The Rejected Burden: Rising From The Shadows
I liquidated every asset I owned for a single gala ticket, convinced that after twenty years, Grafton Blanchard was finally going to ask me to be his partner. My husband, Kingston Riddle, even hinted that the diamond "Eternity Lock" bracelet I’d been eyeing was gone from the vault, and I was sure it was waiting for me.
But when I reached the VIP suite, Grafton didn't look at me with love; he snapped that very bracelet onto the wrist of my rival, Bella Sterling. He stood before the crowd and announced their engagement, laughing as he called me his "little mascot" while I stood there in my best dress, feeling the entire world crumble beneath my feet.
The betrayal went deeper when I overheard him telling his friends I was nothing more than a "burden" and a "puppy" he was too kind to kick to the curb. Desperate to fix his image, he lured me to a "peace offering" dinner where Bella theatrically threw herself down a flight of marble stairs. Within seconds, Grafton was looming over me, his face twisted in fury as he accused me of being a jealous, vicious monster.
"I'm calling the cops. You want to play games? Let's see how you like a holding cell," Grafton roared, snatching my phone so I couldn't record his cruelty. The restaurant manager and the crowd sneered at me, ready to watch me be hauled away in handcuffs for a crime I didn't commit. I was a pariah, discarded by the man I’d spent my entire life protecting.
I stood trembling against the wall, realizing that the man I loved was willing to ruin my life to protect a lie. I felt the weight of twenty years of devotion being thrown into the trash, and for the first time, I stopped wondering why I wasn't enough and started wondering how I could have been so blind.
Just as the security guards moved in, the heavy doors swung open. My husband, Kingston—the man I thought was a cold stranger—stepped into the light and demanded the manager play the security footage on the big screen. As the video of Bella launching herself backward played for the entire restaurant, I didn't look at Grafton's pathetic apologies; I looked at the exit and realized my life was finally beginning.
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Chapter 5
The rain was relentless. It felt personal, like the sky was trying to wash her out of existence. Isadora took a step off the curb to look for a cab, and her right foot slipped on an oil slick.
She flailed, catching herself before she hit the ground, but her right heel snapped. The shoe came off, skittering into a puddle of black water.
"No," she whispered. "Please, no."
She stood there, one foot bare on the freezing asphalt, the other in a broken shoe. She kicked the broken one off. Being barefoot was better than the imbalance. The pavement was rough and gritty against her soles.
She pulled her phone out. The screen flickered green, then went black. Water damage.
She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to preserve whatever body heat she had left. She was shaking violently now.
A pair of headlights cut through the darkness. Twin beams of white light that illuminated the falling rain like diamonds.
A black car slowed down. It wasn't a taxi. It was the same custom sedan from before.
Isadora tried to step back into the shadows, shame burning in her chest. She didn't want anyone to see her like this. Especially not Kingston's people.
The car stopped right beside her. The rear window rolled down halfway.
Kingston Riddle sat in the back. The interior light cast shadows across his sharp cheekbones. He looked at her-at her wet hair, her ruined dress, her bare feet standing in the gutter.
He didn't look pitying. He looked angry. His jaw was set tight.
The driver was out of the car in a second, holding a massive black umbrella. He opened the rear door.
"Miss Dyer," the driver said. "Please."
Isadora shook her head, her teeth chattering. "I... I can't. I'm wet. I'll ruin the leather."
"Get in," Kingston said. His voice cut through the sound of the rain. It wasn't a suggestion. "Don't make me say it twice."
The authority in his voice triggered an automatic response. Isadora ducked under the umbrella and scrambled into the back seat.
The door closed, sealing out the noise of the city. The silence inside was absolute. The air was warm and smelled of that same cedar and gin scent.
Kingston pressed a button on the armrest. The partition between them and the driver slid up, turning the glass opaque. They were in a private capsule.
He looked at her shivering form. Without a word, he unbuttoned his suit jacket. He took it off and leaned over, draping it around her shoulders.
The jacket was heavy, warm, and lined with silk. It engulfed her. Isadora pulled the lapels tight against her neck, burying her nose in the fabric. It smelled like safety.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, water dripping from her hair onto the pristine leather seats. "I'm making a mess."
Kingston ignored her apology. He opened a small refrigerated compartment and pulled out a bottle of water. He cracked the seal and handed it to her.
"Drink."
Isadora took it, her hands shaking so much the water sloshed. She took a sip.
Kingston watched her for a moment, then reached into a storage cubby near his door. He pulled out a small white box.
He set it on the console between them and opened the lid.
Inside was a single vanilla cupcake with white frosting. It looked simple, almost out of place in the luxury car.
Isadora stared at it, then up at him. Her mascara was definitely smeared under her eyes. She must look like a raccoon.
"It was supposed to be dessert at the dinner I just left," Kingston said, his voice flat. "I doubt you ate."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver lighter. He flicked it. A small flame danced in the dim light. He held it over the cupcake, pretending there was a candle there.
"Make a wish," he said.
Isadora looked at the flame. It reflected in Kingston's grey eyes, making them look almost silver.
She thought about wishing for Grafton to love her. But the memory of the word burden rose up, choking her.
She closed her eyes. I wish to be free of him. I wish to find myself.
She blew out the imaginary candle. Kingston snapped the lighter shut. The click was final.
"Happy Birthday, Isadora," he said softly.
He pushed the box toward her. Isadora picked up the cupcake. She took a bite. The frosting was sweet, melting on her tongue, chasing away the bitter taste of champagne and bile.
She ate the whole thing in silence. Kingston didn't speak. He leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes, giving her the privacy to eat like a starving person.
The car slowed to a stop. Isadora looked out the window. They were at her apartment.
"Thank you," she said. Her voice was stronger now.
Kingston didn't open his eyes. "Keep the jacket. The driver will walk you to the door."
Isadora hesitated, then opened the door. The cold air rushed in, but she was warm inside the oversized suit coat.
"If you need anything," Kingston said, still not looking at her, "you know where to find me."
Isadora stepped out. She watched the taillights of the sedan disappear around the corner before she turned to face her empty building.
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7.5
The Duke was standing in the middle of the room, his hands in his pockets, his head tilted to one side. It was a relaxed, casual pose, and yet the way he looked at her was anything but casual. The deep midnight of his eyes burned and he radiated a subtle, sensual energy that made the air around him crackle.
He looked like a man who'd never heard the word 'no' in all his life. Unluckily for him, 'no' was the only word she had.
"There's no reason why I should stay," Anna clasped her shaking hands together in an effort to still them. "I'm not marrying you."
His gaze flickered, his mouth curving slightly, and she had the disturbing thought that far from putting him off, her insistence was only inciting him further.
"But you haven't heard my proposal yet," he said mildly. "Isn't that why you're here?"
"I don't need to hear it. I already know that my answer will be no."
"Of course. But you can hardly tell your father that you heard me out when you haven't, in fact, heard me out.... Anna."
8.9
Adela stood outside the private room, holding the obsidian necklace she had spent three months hand-crafting for her boyfriend.
But through the cracked door, she heard Juston laughing with his friends, calling her a stupid, obedient pawn and her art "garbage."
After she shattered the necklace and walked out into the freezing rain, Juston texted her a far more horrifying truth.
Her own family didn't just hate her-they had actively tried to kill her.
Two years ago, her brother Kayden intentionally slipped deadly shellfish into her food at a gala, sending her into anaphylactic shock.
Worse, her parents had covered up the attempted murder as a simple kitchen mistake, all to protect the family name and elevate her adopted sister, Kara.
Adela collapsed on the wet pavement, suffocating under the weight of the ultimate betrayal.
She had spent her entire life begging for their love, secretly working as the anonymous designer keeping their failing company afloat, only to realize she was nothing but a disposable tool.
She had absolutely no one, and nowhere to go.
Just as the storm threatened to swallow her whole, a sleek black Maybach pulled up to the curb.
Harmon Holland, the ruthless Wall Street billionaire she was originally arranged to marry, stepped out into the rain.
He didn't offer her pity. Instead, he handed her a legal document.
"Marry me, Adela. For one year."
She took the pen. This time, she wouldn't be an obedient pawn; she would be their executioner.
7.2
My family went bankrupt overnight, leaving me to face a mountain of predatory debt.
Instead of standing by my side, my billionaire fiancé's mother threw a five-million-dollar check on the marble table, demanding I take the money and disappear from her son's life forever.
Meanwhile, my former social circle mocked my downfall. They secretly took photos of me meeting with ruthless loan sharks, waiting for me to come crawling back to beg for charity.
I didn't give them the satisfaction. I legally took on my father's massive debt, threw the check back, and ruthlessly dumped my fiancé.
To stop my heartbroken mother from worrying, I lied and told her I had already found a new, reliable boyfriend.
But the lie was a ticking time bomb. My malicious rival even forced her way into my cramped apartment, demanding to meet this mysterious man, laughing that he must live in a dumpster.
I was suffocating under the pressure. I had nothing, and I had no idea how I was supposed to magically produce a husband to get these toxic people off my back.
Until a dying stranger I helped in the park made a final wish.
His grandson—my cold, aloof high school upperclassman, Caleb Barnes—handed me a watertight prenuptial agreement at the hospital.
"Marry me," Caleb said flatly. "I get to give my grandfather peace. You get a shield against your family."
I picked up the pen and signed my name.
8.5
Billionaire oil mogul Iyke Obiora is a man who has everything-money, influence, and a marriage admired by society. But beneath the polished surface, his empire is cracking. His wife has grown distant, his rivals are closing in, and his secret underground deals could cost him everything.
Then he meets Amara Okoye, a stunning and ambitious school secretary whose quiet charm awakens a hunger he thought long dead. What begins as an innocent encounter soon becomes an all-consuming affair-one that threatens to shatter their lives.
Caught between fiery passion and deadly consequences, Iyke and Amara must face the truth: their love burns too brightly to remain hidden, but stepping into the light may destroy them both.
A tale of power, forbidden desire, and dangerous secrets-Crude Desires will leave you breathless.
8.7
My new boss is gorgeous, arrogant, and filthy rich.
The only problem?
He doesn't know he's also the father of my baby.
Six years ago, I was supposed to get married.
But the night before the wedding, my groom-to-be showed me sides of himself I'd never seen before.
I might've died in that hotel room...
If Mikhail Novikov hadn't burst in to save me.
Handsome, strong, capable knight in shining armor-sign me up, right?
WRONG.
Because Mikhail wasn't just the hero I never knew I needed...
He was also way more dangerous than I ever could've known.
But for one night, I let myself do something I never should've done.
It was worth it-several times over, if you catch my drift.
In the morning, though, I did the reasonable
I RAN.
For six years, I keep running.
Until I walk into work one day, and find my new boss waiting in my office.
Guess who?
And guess what he does when finds out about our baby?
8.3
My five-year-old daughter was turning blue in my arms, her body rigid with a 104-degree fever. I called my billionaire husband, Clifton, dozens of times as I rushed to the hospital, but he declined every single call.
While I was screaming at doctors and fighting to save our child’s life, a news alert flashed on my phone. Clifton was at the Met Gala, looking devastatingly handsome as he intimately draped his tuxedo jacket over the shoulders of his mistress, Eleanora.
The nightmare didn't end at the hospital. Clifton used a secret clause in our prenup to snatch Lily from her bed and move her to a private facility without my consent. When I finally found her, my own daughter shrank away from me in terror. "Go away, bad Mommy!" she sobbed, while the mistress fed her oatmeal and whispered that I was the one who made the doctors hurt her.
Clifton stood by and watched, telling me I was too "hysterical" to be a mother. But then I discovered the real reason they were hiding her. My husband was illegally using my late mother’s rare bone marrow samples to treat Eleanora’s secret blood disorder. Now that those samples are failing, he is taking Lily to a secluded castle in Germany to harvest our daughter’s marrow for his mistress.
I sat in the dark, watching them play happy family with the child they plan to sacrifice. I realized then that my marriage wasn't just a lie—it was a biological harvest. They think I’m just a broken trophy wife who doesn't understand the science they are using to destroy me.
They have no idea that I am "Ghost," the anonymous medical genius behind the very research they are trying to steal. As we board the private jet to Germany, I’ve stopped crying and started calculating. If they want to play with life and death, I’ll show them exactly what happens when a mother stops being a victim and starts being a predator.