
Too Late, Mr. Johnston: She Is Gone
Kara was diagnosed with cancer, and her unborn child could not be kept. Kara planned to end the pregnancy, get a divorce, and face her impending death with equanimity, allowing Davin and his new love, Alyse, to be together. But Davin had no intention of letting her go so easily. He and the increasingly frail Kara were inseparable day and night, just to leave a child for the infertile Alyse. Kara lay dying in her hospital bed, crying and laughing, pleading, "I'll give you my life, please let me go." Later, the cold and aloof man knelt before Kara's tombstone, holding gardenias day and night, his eyes red as he murmured, "Baby, stop it, come back."
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Chapter 1
Kara stared at her reflection in the dirty mirror of the coffee shop bathroom,her skin looked translucent. Her fingers trembled as she pressed the send button on the disposable burner phone. The encrypted data packet vanished from the screen, on its way to the client who knew her only as The Ghost.
A sharp cramp twisted in her lower abdomen, it wasn't a normal ache, it felt like a serrated knife being dragged through her insides.The phone slipped into the sink, Kara gasped, gripping the edge of the porcelain sink so hard her knuckles turned white.
Then she felt it, a warm, wet sensation sliding down her inner thigh.
Kara looked down.
On the cracked beige tiles, a drop of bright red blood splattered, then another, then a stream.
She stumbled backward, colliding with a woman who was just walking in, the woman screamed.
The edges of Kara vision turned black, she fell. The last thing she saw was her own hand, pale and shaking, reaching out across the floor as a pool of red expanded around it.
The sounds of the emergency room were a symphony of chaos, Beeping monitors. The squeak of rubber soles on linoleum. Voices shouting medical jargon that Kara couldn't process.
She was on a gurney, the lights overhead were blinding.
Dr. Evans was there. She recognized him from her previous secret visits. He looked grim, was shouting orders at a nurse who was trying to find a vein in Kara's bruised arm.
Kara grabbed the doctor's sleeve.
"My baby," she whispered. "Is the baby okay?"
Dr. Evans didn't look at her, he looked at the monitor, his voice was fast, clipped.
"Acute complications from the leukemia, we have to terminate the pregnancy immediately. We have to do a D and C right now or you are going to bleed out."
Kara shook her head, tears mixed with the cold sweat on her temples. "No. Please. Save him."
"We don't have a choice, Kara. You are dying."
The doctor looked at the nurse. "Get the consent forms, we need a signature, or get the husband. Is the husband here?"
Kara's hand fell from his sleeve, she nodded weakly. The nurse shoved a phone into her hand, It was her personal phone.
She dialed the number that was pinned to the top of her contacts list. The number she was never supposed to call during business hours.
Davin.
The conference room at Johnston Global was silent, save for the hum of the air conditioning. Davin Johnston sat at the head of the long mahogany table, the acquisition team was droning on about quarterly projections.
His personal phone vibrated against the polished wood.
He glanced down. The name on the screen made his jaw tighten. Kara.
He reached out to decline the call. Then he remembered his grandfather's voice from yesterday. Be nice to her, Davin. She's family.
Davin let out a short, annoyed breath and picked up the phone.
"What is it, Kara?"
"Davin." Her voice was wet, broken. "I'm at the hospital. The baby... please, I need you to sign..."
Davin froze, his eyes flicked to the end of the table. Alyse was sitting there, ostensibly taking notes for the meeting, though she was mostly just twirling a gold pen. She looked up, catching his eye.
She mouthed the words: Is she asking for money again?
Davin remembered the conversation he had with Alyse last night. Alyse had warned him, she said Kara was desperate, that she would invent a pregnancy scare to lock down her share of the trust fund before the fiscal year ended.
A cold sneer curled Davin's lip.
"Kara," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You really have no bottom, do you? You're lying about a child to squeeze cash out of me?"
"Davin, please!" Kara screamed on the other end.
"If you want to get rid of it, that's your choice," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Don't try to pin this on me as leverage. I'm in a meeting."
He pulled the phone away from his ear and tapped the red icon. He tossed the device onto the table. It landed with a loud clatter.
The room was dead silent. Every executive was staring at him.
"Continue," Davin said, leaning back in his leather chair.
The dial tone buzzed in Kara's ear.
She let the phone slide from her fingers. It hit the floor.
The monitor above her head let out a long, high-pitched whine.
"BP is crashing!" Dr. Evans yelled. "Forget the husband! We're losing her! Get her to the OR now!"
The gurney began to move. The ceiling tiles rushed past in a blur. Kara felt the cold creeping up her legs, settling in her chest. She closed her eyes. A single tear leaked out, hot against her freezing skin.
Davin, she thought, as the darkness swallowed her whole. You just killed us.
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8.7
On her eighteenth birthday, Elinor thought she was finally an adult. But a single text message reminded her she was just property.
Boyd Walker, the ruthless billionaire who dictated her every breath, threw a contract onto her bed. He had bought her adoptive father's medical debt—one billion dollars. And she was the sole collateral.
The punishment for even a hint of rebellion was catastrophic.
When her disabled friend tried to check on her, Boyd had his good leg shattered in front of a live security feed just to teach her a lesson.
When she fought off an entitled frat boy at school and came back with a bleeding arm, Boyd didn't comfort her.
Driven by a twisted, suffocating jealousy, he held her under a freezing bath, then tied a red thread with a silver bell around her ankle.
"You are a pet that needs to learn its boundaries."
Every time she moved, the high-pitched ring was a humiliating reminder of her gilded cage. The billion-dollar debt was a chain she could never break, and the monster holding the leash would destroy anyone who dared to help her.
Stripped of her money, her friends, and her dignity, Elinor lay completely still in the dark room for three days, refusing all food and water.
If Boyd wouldn't give her freedom, she would take the only thing she had left to control—her own death.

7.8
After eight years in a cold marriage, I watched my husband, Damian, run past me during a raging fire. He ignored my screams, his only focus on saving another woman.
That night, he coldly admitted he never loved me. Our entire marriage was just a business deal he was forced into.
But his betrayal didn't end there. His mistress, Aida, framed my innocent younger brother for a crime he didn't commit. Damian believed her lies without question.
He stood by as she had my brother murdered in his hospital bed. He even forced me to crawl over broken glass to apologize for "upsetting" her.
The final blow came when he threatened me with my mother' s heirloom box, not knowing it held my brother' s ashes. He had taken everything from me-my love, my family, my dignity.
He thought he had broken me. But he only forged me into a weapon.
Now, I'm back. And as the new majority shareholder of his company, I'm here to make him pay for every last sin.

7.3
Eloise was the untouchable Brandt family heiress, just one audition away from landing a lead movie role and escaping her golden cage.
But overnight, her family's empire completely collapsed.
With her father dying of heart failure, her mother forced her to beg the only man who could save them: Christian Clarke.
Christian was the ruthless billionaire who had publicly humiliated Eloise in college, ripping up her love letter in front of a laughing crowd.
Now, he tossed a fifty-million-dollar acquisition contract on the table.
"What exactly is the Brandt heiress putting up for sale today?"
To secure her father's medical care, Eloise was forced to sign a suffocating marriage contract, selling herself as a corporate tax shield.
He moved her into his freezing penthouse and treated her like a purchased asset. He mocked her attempts to cook him dinner, yet pinned her against the wall with punishing, possessive kisses whenever she tried to pull away.
Eloise's pride was entirely shattered.
She didn't understand why he was doing this. If he hated her so much and only wanted revenge, why did his touch carry such an agonizing, desperate heat?
Determined to survive, she went to her final audition and miraculously won the lead role, crying tears of joy because she had finally earned something on her own.
She had no idea that the cold-blooded monster sleeping beside her had just secretly threatened to destroy all of Hollywood to give it to her.

8.5
I woke up in the tangled black silk sheets of the Mafia Don's bed, my skin still burning from his ruthless touch in the dark.
The heavy door burst open, and his pristine wife, Bianca, looked at my bruised collarbones with visceral hatred.
Instead of having me killed for soiling her husband's bed, she offered a devil's bargain.
"You will take my place in his bed. You will be a shadow in the dark."
In my past life, I foolishly accepted, thinking her money would pay for my dying mother's hospital bills. I didn't realize the untouchable Mafia Queen was barren and just needed a disposable incubator. After I endured the Don's violent possession and birthed the Moretti heir, they cut off my mother's medicine. Then, they dragged me to a remote warehouse and suffocated me with a wet mattress to bury their dirty secret forever.
Until my last agonizing breath, I didn't understand why my absolute submission and suffering were rewarded with such a brutal, meaningless death.
Opening my eyes again, I was back on the morning after the Don first claimed me.
I knelt on the Persian rug, weeping tears of fake gratitude as Bianca handed me the cash. But the moment my escort looked away, I didn't take her fertility herbs. I bought a bitter root from an alley witch to keep my womb empty. This time, I won't give the Don a child. I'll become his darkest obsession, and use his lethal power to burn this entire family to the ground.

9.3
"W-wait! Someone's comi- ah!" Dylan's gasps were muffled with a kiss that made his legs go weak.
"Want me to stop?" The whisper made him shudder.
"...no, b-but there's-"
"Then be a good boy and focus on me. Spread your legs."
Dylan as an innocent college student knew what he wanted in a guy and coincidentally, the Waltson's, their new neighbor, had a son Theo who was a perfect fit. But sadly straight and also not single. Aiming to drink out his sorrows at the school party and move on was an act he did not see ending with him sleeping with someone, but having no idea who it was the next morning.
Soon, his hunt for the truth gets narrowed down to the Waltson's, and he gets faced with the late realization that Theo wasn't the only son of the Waltson's. With his elder brother, Lucas, and a mute twin, Kyle, his options of his drunk one night widens from one to three.
Lucas and Theo had been present at the party, and Dylan saw his only chance of knowing the truth was getting closer to them. But to do that, he needed the help of Kyle who was anything but nice to him. His constant glares, his mischievous smiles, and his hand signs that get interpreted into nothing but lies. Almost like he was trying his best to keep him away from his brothers. And just when he thought that, he takes up the initiative to search up a sign Kyle had shown to him.
^^You and him are never going to work out. I'll make sure of that.^^
In the game of finding out what Kyle meant by that, he stumbles across something even bigger. The Waltson's secret

7.5
After my boyfriend of four years publicly humiliated me at a charity gala, calling me a "charity case," I drowned my sorrows at a dive bar and had a one-night stand with a stranger.
I woke up the next morning in a luxury hotel suite to find out the stranger was Christian Porter, the most ruthless billionaire on Wall Street.
Worse, paparazzi had photographed us leaving the bar. He coldly informed me that the photos would create a scandal that could tank his company's upcoming IPO, costing him hundreds of millions. As if my world wasn't collapsing fast enough, I got a call that my younger brother had been arrested for assaulting my ex in my defense.
Christian didn't want my apology; he wanted a solution. He slammed a prenuptial agreement on the table in front of me.
He gave me an ultimatum: sign a two-year marriage contract to turn the scandal into a corporate fairy tale, or he would ruin me. Trapped, I agreed. But when my furious brother confronted him at the police station, Christian looked him dead in the eye and said something that left me breathless.
"I didn't marry her to solve a problem," he said, his voice echoing in the small room. "I married her because I've been in love with her for ten years."