THAT SUMMER I MET HIM

She thought he was her childhood friend, but she was wrong. It isn't him. This man is vicious, this man is cruel but against all odds, this man is the one who will take her heart.

Chapters

Chapter 1

Everything in this book is a work of fiction. Therefore, names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are use fictitiously.

Any resemblance to real persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Prologue

I did a double take.

I have to make sure.

I do not want to make assumptions. I don’t want my heart to be broken again.

I stared at him, alive and well and handsome, as always.

The leaves fell down around us. The summer sun’s heat pierces my skin but I couldn’t care less. The sunlight bathed everything with that fairytale glow. The sweet breeze blew. The kids walking hand in hand as they ate their ice cream sort of brought me back into the past. Today was like the day I met him: Me, riding a bicycle and him, walking down the pavement.

Except that in the past, I met him here, because he was crying but now, he is not. He is smiling so wide that he even have the guts to flirt with the girls. I grab the handle of the bicycle and watch him as he make his way towards me. I do not know why I feel nervous. A trickle of sweat drip on the side of my face, my heart beat fast and I could hardly breathe. He was meters away, until it grow shorter to a foot and then bam, he bumped into me and we fall down, him on top of me.

This felt like a deja vù, like it was our very first encounter.

We scurried to get up but ended up bumping our heads together. I glared at him as he got up, He didn't even offer me a hand. He didn’t even give me a second glance.

He just passed by me. Not noticing me. Not even looking at me.

I do not know which hurts more. Hearing about his death and believing that I am delusional right now thinking of seeing him as a ghost. Or seeing him, alive and well, as he pass me by. Not even a glance or a look of familiarization.

I felt my heart constrict and my face redden. I let go of the bicycle and turn to face him. I remove the helmet that I was wearing and grip it tightly before screaming, “YAH!

He turn to face me and gave me a weird look. He just stood there and it gave me a moment to admire his beauty. He was like a real life Adonis. The young cupid has now bloom into a very beautiful god. My eyes held his blue eyes. His eyelashes are so long that it brushes his cheek every time he blinks. His nose was a bit crooked; maybe he’s gotten into fights before and his lips, same as before. They are shaped like cupid bows and have the color of the deepest red.

His laugh caught me off guard as it woke me from my admiration. He took my hand and said in his now deep voice, “Lass, back off. The likes of you are not my type. You have the body of a little girl and that doesn’t impress me much. Good day.” He wink at me before letting go of my hand. My hands curled into a fist and before I know it, the helmet I was holding was already flying towards him.

I raise my hand as if to save him but it collided on his head right before I could even react. It sounded a hollow thump and a pronounced groan. His hands made his way to the back of his head as he turn and face me. With those eyes that seem like it was murdering me, he chase me off and I hastily took my bicycle and ran.

I couldn’t help but feel happy instead of guilty as he ran after me. This was like before. This was like that summer, that summer I met him.

Continue to next part

The soft glow of candlelight danced across Ryan's face as he raised his champagne flute toward mine. The restaurant hummed with quiet conversation and the occasional clink of silverware against fine china, but in our corner booth, it felt like we were the only two people in Seattle. "To my beautiful fiancée," Ryan said, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always made my heart skip. "Happy birthday, Cassie." I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through my chest that had nothing to do with the champagne. "To us," I replied, touching my glass to his. "And to only a few more weeks of calling you my fiancé before you become my husband." The crystal sang as our glasses met, and I took a sip, savoring the moment. Four years ago, I couldn't have imagined being here—happy, loved, safe. After what happened in Portland with Madison, I'd been convinced I'd never feel whole again. My right ear still rang with phantom sounds sometimes, a permanent reminder of her cruelty. But Ryan had changed everything.

Modern Mystery Romance

7.9

After My Husband Abandoned Me, I Became a Billionaire

7.9

The rhythmic beep of the heart monitor was my only companion in the sterile hospital room. I stared at the ceiling, counting the tiny holes in each tile as I had for the past eighteen hours. My hand rested protectively over my now-empty womb, the other clutching the grainy ultrasound photo—the only proof I had that my baby had ever existed at all. Three days ago, I'd been planning a nursery. Now, I was recovering from a D&C procedure, my body as hollow as my heart. Northwestern Memorial Hospital's maternity ward was cruelly ironic—a place meant for new life had become my sanctuary of grief. "Mrs. Walsh?" A nurse with kind eyes poked her head in. "Can I get you anything for the pain?" Physical pain I could handle. It was the other kind that was unbearable.

Billionaire Modern Romance

7.6

Christmas Downfall: Don, You Shouldn't Harass A Mafia Princess

7.6

Anna Brown, the formidable mafia princess of the Brown clan, once shared a passionate bond with Daniel White-the "Silver Fox" of New York's underworld-whose Christmas vow of eternal love had her believing in a future together. But when Daniel's tattoo artist lover Lola brands Anna with a humiliating slur and claims to carry his child, Anna's devotion curdles into ruthless revenge. She strips Daniel of his power, freezes his assets, and exposes Lola's greed, only to watch Daniel spiral into the clutches of the vicious gangster Grizzly. As Christmas memories of roasted sweet potatoes and rose-lined proposals fade, Anna confronts the bitter truth: some love, like a cold sweet potato, can never be warmed again.

Mafia Modern Romance

7.9

Give Up Loving Him and Start Over

7.9

When the elevator chimed, I heard his voice—light, cheerful—and another one beside it: Julian Croft, his wealthy friend. Their laughter floated down the hall, careless and bright, slicing through the early stillness. Through the glass, I watched Julian patting Mark’s shoulder. “Let’s see if your unpaid maid strikes again,” he said with a smirk. And Mark laughed—casual, careless. My throat closed, the air catching somewhere deep in my chest. For a moment, I couldn’t even hear them anymore—just the echo of that phrase ricocheting in my head. Unpaid maid. That was what I was to him. Not the person who stayed until 2 a.m. perfecting his slides. Not the one who memorized his coffee order, his favorite pen, the subtle shift in his tone when he was tired. Just a convenient fixture in his world—useful, invisible. The blood roared in my ears.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.2

Mistress Meets Her Match

8.2

The soft afternoon light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of our penthouse living room, casting gentle shadows across the cream-colored marble floors. I sat curled in my favorite armchair, a leather-bound novel resting in my lap while Whiskers purred contentedly against my thighs. His gray fur was warm beneath my fingers as I absently stroked behind his ears, finding comfort in the rhythmic vibration of his purring. The silence of our home wrapped around me like a familiar blanket—a peace I'd learned to treasure in these quiet moments. The sharp beep of the security system shattered that tranquility. I looked up from my book, my hand stilling on Whiskers' fur. The front door's electronic lock disengaged with a soft click, and I heard the distinctive tap of designer heels against marble. My stomach clenched with a familiar dread, though my expression remained perfectly composed. Only one person besides Kane had access to our home's security code. Nyomi Grant swept into the living room as if she owned it, her pregnant belly prominently displayed beneath a form-fitting designer dress that probably cost more than most people's monthly salary.

Billionaire Modern Romance

7.0

My Coldhearted Ex-Husband Demands A Remarriage

7.0

Erika was a disgraced ex-wife, struggling to survive in a freezing Brooklyn slum to raise her five-year-old son. But her billionaire ex-husband, Doyle Morgan, wasn't done destroying her. He orchestrated a cruel trap, forcing her to deliver a custom sapphire brooch to his new mistress, just to watch her get humiliated and severely burned by scalding coffee. When Erika fought back and refused to beg, Doyle's punishment was swift. He demoted her to scrubbing executive toilets with raw, bleeding hands. Starved, exhausted, and pushed to the absolute brink of organ failure, she finally collapsed lifelessly in front of him in Central Park. For five years, she had endured his relentless torment and the world's mockery just to keep her child safe. Doyle despised her, convinced her son was the filthy proof of her cheating with another man. He didn't know the boy was actually the child of his deceased older brother, conceived in a dark, drugged hotel room. Why couldn't he just leave them alone to suffer in peace? But when Erika woke up in the VIP hospital ward, the nightmare took a terrifying turn. Doyle pinned her weak wrists to the mattress, his eyes burning with a dark, possessive obsession. He had figured out the truth about the boy's bloodline. "He's a Morgan. He has my family's blood in his veins, and I will not allow my nephew to be raised in a slum. If you can't care for him, I will. From this moment on, you and that boy belong to me. And you are never leaving my sight again."

Billionaire Modern Romance

THAT SUMMER I MET HIM

Chapter 1

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