Novels by Margaret Mark

The TestimonyChapter 44: The TestimonyThe courtroom felt colder when Camille returned to the witness stand. The air-conditioning hummed, but it wasn’t that—it was the icy stares of the prosecution, the desperate eyes of the defense, and the restless whispers of the media gallery. Every camera lens seemed to point at her like a weapon, waiting to record every syllable that would fall from her lips.Collins—or Julian, as the prosecutor now called him in a deliberate attempt to strip away the aura of power attached to his surname—sat at the defense table, hands folded, jaw locked. His face betrayed nothing, but Camille could sense the storm underneath. This was the moment they had both dreaded. Her words could either save him…or doom him.The prosecutor rose. “Mrs. Blake,” he said smoothly, “you have lived with the defendant. You’ve seen him in his most private moments, when the world wasn’t watching. Tell this jury—what kind of man is Julian Blake?”The question landed like a thunder

The Trial BeginsThe courthouse was a fortress of flashing cameras, microphones, and restless voices. Reporters clustered outside the marble steps like vultures, shouting questions that sliced through the cold morning air. The banners of every major network had been staked out days in advance, and the pavement groaned under the weight of live-streaming rigs. It wasn’t just a trial; it was a spectacle, and Camille stood in the center of it, her pulse echoing louder than the shutters snapping in her face.Collins walked ahead of her, flanked by his defense team. His suit was pressed to perfection, his jaw set in granite, but Camille could see the faint tremor in his hand when he adjusted his cufflinks. To the world, he was still the billionaire magnate, untouchable in wealth and influence. To her, he was the man who had kissed her scars in the dark, the man who had betrayed her, the man whose fate now twisted in her hands.“Mrs. Blake! Mrs. Blake, do you still support your husband?”“Ca

House of CardsJulian had always believed his empire was indestructible. He had built it on precision, ruthless ambition, and the kind of unflinching confidence that made lesser men bow to him. But now, as the lawsuit with Camille began to dominate headlines, the foundation of his empire began to tremble.It started with whispers. A few anonymous leaks to the press. A rumor that his empire wasn’t as solid as he claimed. Journalists began digging into contracts, acquisitions, and financial filings. Then the shareholders—those same men who had once praised his brilliance—started making calls he wasn’t invited to join.By the third week of the lawsuit’s publicity, the market had already shifted against him. His company’s stock dipped six percent in a single day. By Friday, it had plummeted ten.Julian stormed into the boardroom, eyes blazing. His executives sat stiffly, avoiding his gaze. He slammed his hand on the table. “Cowards,” he hissed. “One woman makes an accusation, and you all

The LawsuitThe summons landed on Julian’s mahogany desk like a dagger driven into wood. He stared at the crisp white envelope, the seal of the court glaring at him like an accusation. For a man who had built empires, fought hostile takeovers, and dismantled competitors without flinching, this was the first time his hands trembled while holding a single sheet of paper.Camille had sued him.Not for money. Not for breach of contract. But for coercion.The word alone was enough to make his chest tighten. In the court of law—and worse, in the court of public opinion—it was poison. He thought back to the moments they had shared, the nights of passion that blurred with fury, the fragile vulnerability in her eyes when she believed him. Somewhere in that tangled history, she had decided he had forced her into a cage. And now, she was fighting to prove it.Julian rose from his chair and paced the office, his jaw clenched. “Coercion,” he muttered, tasting the word as if it were ash. “She think

Breaking PointCamille’s heart hammered against her ribs as she stumbled out of the powder room. Vivian’s words clung to her like smoke, poisoning her thoughts: This empire will burn. No amount of perfume or polished marble could mask the stench of betrayal. She needed air. She needed truth. She needed Julian.The ballroom lights glared too brightly, the chatter too loud, every face a mask of greed and deceit. Vivian’s laughter followed her like a shadow, echoing in her head. Camille barely noticed when Julian’s hand touched hers, steadying her.“There you are,” he murmured, concern flickering across his handsome features. “I was beginning to worry.”Camille stared at him, her throat tightening. How could she tell him? How could she describe what she had seen, Vivian’s lips pressed against Adrian’s, their whispered conspiracy? She opened her mouth, but the words tangled. Instead, all she managed was, “We need to talk. Alone.”Julian’s eyes narrowed. He read her expression, and somethi

The Betrayal KissCamille had never liked attending the high-society galas that Julian thrived in. The endless chatter of investors, the forced smiles of socialites, the glint of champagne glasses raised in hollow toasts—it all felt like a play where she didn’t belong. But tonight, Julian insisted she accompany him. “It’s important,” he had whispered as he fastened her diamond bracelet. “The Thorne deal is almost finalized, and we need to show unity.”Unity. The word lingered in her mind long after Julian had disappeared into a circle of men in tailored suits. Camille drifted through the ballroom like a shadow, smiling when necessary, nodding politely, but her heart wasn’t in it. She only wanted air.The balcony offered that reprieve. She stepped outside, letting the night wind tease her curls, the cool breeze brushing away the suffocating perfume of the ballroom. She leaned against the railing, eyes wandering across the skyline glittering with ambition. For a moment, she could breath