Novels by gloryebube7

“I didn’t do anything,” Miranda said. Her voice was steady despite the tremor in her burned wrist, fingers curled tightly around it. “She… ”“She hurt me,” Vivian cried, cutting her off.Miranda turned her eyes to Adrian. “She tipped it.”“That’s enough,” Adrian said sharply. He didn’t look at Miranda. “How exactly does someone deliberately pour hot coffee on herself? I saw what happened.”Miranda said nothing.Vivian collapsed back against the couch with a fragile sob, clutching her thigh. “Why would she do this to me, Addy? I didn’t provoke her. I was just sitting there. You shouldn’t have let her serve me.”Adrian’s attention was already on Vivian. “You need ointment.”Before he could finish, Aunt Felicia rushed in with the first-aid box.“I’ll handle it,” Adrian said, taking it from her. “Her skin is sensitive. She doesn’t tolerate pain well.”He knelt in front of Vivian and began applying the ointment himself.Vivian winced exaggeratedly, her eyes flicking toward Miranda with qui

The moment he confirmed Miranda had left the event venue and had headed home, Adrian drove home like a man possessed.The city blurred past in streaks of red and white as his grip tightened around the steering wheel. He didn’t slow down. He didn’t curse. He didn’t speak.By the time the car slid into the underground parking of the penthouse, whatever fury he carried had hardened into something colder.He entered the apartment without announcing himself.The lights were dim. The faint scent of chamomile hung in the air.Miranda Jones sat curled on the couch, a throw blanket draped around her shoulders. She looked up when she heard his footsteps.“Adrian,” she said quietly.He tossed his jacket aside.“So this is how you do it now?” His voice was sharp. “You go behind my back and involve my family.”Her brows furrowed. “What?”“My father stopped treatment today,” he said flatly. “My mother flew in from Switzerland in a panic. And suddenly, you’re the wounded saint everyone is furious on

Adrian’s phone buzzed sharply against the polished surface of his desk. He didn’t need to look to know who it was.“Vivian,” he said, voice low and deliberate.“Adrian,” Vivian’s tone was clipped, sharp with annoyance. “Miranda disobeyed me.”A slow, dark smile curled at the corner of his mouth. “Disobeyed you?” he repeated, amusement and malice blending seamlessly. “Yes, and I’m going to deal with her for embarrassing me.” “Do whatever pleases you. Handle it.” Adrian responded casually, like Miranda is not his business. “Handle it?” Vivian echoed. “You mean…?”“I mean exactly that,” Adrian cut her off. “She’s there to perform, to obey, to endure. You make sure she does. Publicly, privately… whatever you like.”“Yes, Adrian,” Vivian said, her voice steady. “I’ll take care of it.”Adrian hung up before she could add another word. “Sir,” his assistant showed him a picture on the tablet. In the image, Miranda is on the floor, her hand under Vivian’s heels. “It made it to the news. Pe

The phone rang just as Miranda settled with her coffee, the sunlight cutting across the living room in sharp, almost cruel lines. She frowned at the display.“Good morning, Mrs. Cole,” said a clipped, overly cheerful voice. “This is Marissa, Adrian’s assistant. I’m calling about this afternoon’s fundraising gala.”Miranda straightened. “What about it?”“Well… Mr. Cole won’t be able to attend. Something urgent has come up. He… he asked that you represent him instead. He insists.”Miranda’s hand tightened around the cup. “He what?”“Attend… on his behalf,” Marissa said nervously. “He didn’t give me the details, only that he expects you there. Dress code, protocol, the works. Everything as if…”“As if I were Adrian Cole’s wife?” Miranda finished, her voice sharp. “Marissa, Adrian would never allow me to go to an event in his stead.”“Well…” Marissa hesitated. “He did say…“I’ll call him myself,” Miranda cut in, her tone final. She ended the call before Marissa could protest and dialed Ad

Collateral HeartsAdrian refused to believe silence could be real.He paced his office, tension coiled tight beneath his tailored composure, irritation sharpening with every second that Miranda remained unchanged. Still. Controlled. Unresponsive.“She could have begged,” Adrian muttered.Richard looked up from where he sat, unimpressed. “Begged?”“I don’t know,” Adrian snapped. “She always tried to please me. If she loved me—really loved me—she would have fought this. She would have tried to stop it.”“And you don’t think,” Richard replied carefully, “that she stopped because she finally stopped hoping?”“That’s not it,” Adrian shot back. “If she loved me the way she claimed, she wouldn’t be acting like this.” He turned sharply. “She wants this. That calm? That countdown? She’s waiting for eight days so she can take what she’s entitled to and leave.”Richard frowned. “The woman I saw last night wasn’t calculating. She was shattered.”“That’s because I beat her to it,” Adrian said cold

Adrian Cole did not come home that night.By morning, Miranda Jones understood something worse than abandonment had taken place.He had already moved on.The night dissolved into dawn without him, the hours stretching hollow and impersonal inside the penthouse. The city outside remained awake, restless and indifferent, but Miranda slept. Deeply. Without interruption.It surprised her.Perhaps it was because she had finally laid down the weight she had been carrying alone for three years. The explanations. Patience. The quiet negotiations with a man who treated marriage like a contract with optional clauses.When she woke, there were no tears waiting for her. No panic. No frantic reach for her phone.Only a disciplined calm that felt foreign in her own body.By the time the front door finally opened, the apartment was already awake.Lights glowed softly. Curtains were drawn back just enough to admit the pale grey of early morning. The kitchen carried the faint scent of ginger tea and t