เข้าสู่ระบบShe signed on to save a life. not lose her heart. For sixty million pesos, Fiona Generys signs on for a deal she never thought possible pretend to be the loving wife of tycoon Charles Billion. It's business. He wants a bride to inherit his grandmother's estate. She requires the money to rescue her adopted child from cancer. The rules are simple: no emotions, no attachments, and walk away when the contract ends. But the heart has no rules. Behind the cameras and expertly choreographed affection, something hidden starts to happen. Charles, who was once cold and calculating, starts to melt. Fiona, who was supposed to protect her heart, starts to imagine a life that might be real. Then Marie is lovely, serene, and inseparable from Charles. with a little girl who addresses him as "Papa." Jealousy seethes. Secrets unravel. And when Fiona discovers the truth behind Charles's carefully constructed illusion, the line between love and betrayal is broken. Was it all just a transaction? Or did she accidentally become the one thing he never planned for his greatest love?
ดูเพิ่มเติมJamaica's words were clinical, chosen to wound.“but if you make a move to take Candy by force, you will be arrested and the evidence will be used against you.”The threat hung in the air like a blade. For the first time since her carefully cultivated fury had become a social weapon, Marie felt fear. It was a small, hot thing that made nausea burn under her ribs.“You’ll rue this,” she rasped, fight flaring hot and foolishly. “You’ll all rue this.”“Perhaps,” Jamaica said softly, and in that was pity quieter than fury and infinitely colder. “But not for my family. For you.”The line went dead. Marie sagged against the window, the city tilting beneath her.She'd wanted war. She had thought it would look like headlines and stock blips and a crowd eating her words up like bread. Instead it had looked like a child bundled in someone else's arms and a woman's voice saying, plainly and irrevocably, that she was not fit to be trusted with her own daughter.The maid came in again, whispering,
The car slid up the drive to Marie's building like a dark promise. She let herself in with shaking hands, rain still clinging to her lashes. The penthouse felt cavernous, every surface a mirror to the night. She shoved her keys into the bowl by the door and kicked off her heels, the sound too loud in the emptiness.A face of a maid, eyes round, apron damp, a towel clutched to her chest appeared from the doorway to the kitchen.“Ma’am—” she started, her voice strangled. “Ma’am, Candy,”Marie didn't wait for the rest. "What about Candy?" She had expected fury, yes, but not this.this thin, untethered panic in the house that had been her fortress.The maid's hands fluttered like trapped birds. "They… they took her, Ma'am. Madam Jamaica's guards two men in suits and two in uniform—arrived. They said they were escorting Candy for her safety. They would not let me stop them."The syllables hit Marie like a physical blow. For a second she could not breathe. "They what?" Her voice was small an
Fiona halted a yard in front of Marie and took a breath, the cameras devouring the hesitation. "Why are you doing this to me?" she asked, and the statement was not a question so much as an accusation. "Why are you constantly besmirching my reputation? Do you think Philip would be proud of this? I never—never—did anything to hurt you. Why persist in persecuting me—and even my daughter Liza? Tell me, Marie. Tell me now."Her voice shook with rage until it hardened to brittle steel. She advanced and took Marie's hands, clasping them with such force that the woman winced. The reporters' shutters stuttered in a blur.Marie's eyes were brimmed at the corners, fury and embarrassment intertwined. She managed to free one hand and spat the reply like a blasphemy. "Because you stole the one I loved. I loved Charles first, before Philip—before any of it. I cannot bear him happy with someone else. I won't let the Billion fortune pass into your hands."
Inside the mansion, Jamaica stood before the raging fire, her outline chiseled in gold by the blaze.Fiona arrived with stealth, cradling the flash drive."She's smart," Fiona whispered. "But not invisible.Jamaica swung her head around. "No one is invisible, my dear. Least of all those who think they are."Fiona's pause was hesitant. "You mean to reveal her?""When the moment is right.""And when is that?"Jamaica's eyes rose to look beyond the glass at the storm. "When the truth will hurt her more than the lies ever damaged us."The morning broke without pity.Marie Drams awoke to quiet that wasn't hers—too quiet, too calculated. She rolled over in bed, bedding in a knot, her heart racing and off. The champagne flute on the bedside table sparkled with pale light.Her phone vibrated. One text. From Brenn.We have a problem.Her eyebrows furrowed. She responded immediately. What sort of problem?
She looked out the window. Outside, the storm clouds massed again, dark and foreboding.“Let her burn herself out,” Jamaica murmured. “Then we’ll end this—for good.”The rain had returned by noon.It came down in thin silver curtains, streaking across the long windows of the Billion estate like ghosts that refused to leave.Fiona stood in the atrium, arms folded, eyes distant. She hadn’t slept. None of them had.Madam Jamaica’s instructions had been clear that morning: No interviews. No statements. Wait for the next move.But now there was one."Ma'am," one of the butlers said, moving inside. "A woman is here to see you. Says it's an emergency. Her name's… Layla Vern."Jamaica set aside her chair. "Send her in. Alone."The butler hesitated. "She appears… scared.""All the better," Jamaica said.Layla Vern appeared in the room as a specter, her hand
The morning dawned in a storm of headlines.Charles was awake first—burning eyes, phone ringing incessantly on the nightstand. Curtains still drawn, but the light that seeped through was cutting and merciless.He reached for the phone, scrolling through messages, his jaw clenching tighter with each phrase."Billion Foundation Handed Embezzlement Scandal." "Anonymous Source Alleges Fiona Generys' Scholarship Fund Was Laundered." "Insiders Say: Madam Jamaica Knew."His blood curdled. "No," he said, sitting up. "Not again."Fiona woke beside him. Her voice was a murmur, still knotted with sleep. "Charles? What's wrong?"He faltered. How could he explain? That all they'd worked to rebuild every public gesture, every scrap of dignity had just been pulled into the sludge overnight.He passed the phone to her. "You should see this."Fiona's hands shook as she scrolled. Her face went white. "Oh my God," she breathed. "They're saying I""That you stole from your own students," Charles grow






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