INICIAR SESIÓNAnya's POVHot tears started streaming down my face before I could stop them. I'd been trying so hard to hold it together, to be strong, to focus on healing and moving forward. But this—this public humiliation, this complete distortion of the truth—it was too much.I curled up on my side, careful of my ribs, and let myself cry. Deep, gasping sobs that hurt my chest and made my head pound but that I couldn't hold back anymore.Each sob sent a fresh wave of pain through my broken ribs, sharp stabbing sensations that made me want to stop crying, to hold my breath, to do anything to make the physical pain stop. But I couldn't. The emotional pain was so much worse than the physical pain, so overwhelming and all-consuming that the hurt in my ribs barely registered as more than background noise.The tears came in hot, relentless waves, soaking into the expensive pillowcase beneath my cheek. My whole body shook with the force of my crying, trembling so hard that I had to wrap my arms around m
Anya's POVThere was a photo of me on the screen—an old one from some charity event I'd attended with Kennedy a couple of years ago. I looked happy in the photo, smiling at the camera in an elegant dress, Kennedy's arm around my waist. It was all a lie, of course. I'd been miserable that night, as I'd been miserable at most events with Kennedy. But I'd learned to smile for the cameras, to play the role of the happy, devoted wife.Next to my photo was one of Orion—a professional headshot that must have been from some business magazine article. He looked powerful and handsome and completely untouchable.The news anchor, a blonde woman with too-bright lipstick and an eager expression, was talking in that breathless, gossipy tone that these entertainment shows always used."...the disgraced heiress Anya Russell-Davenport, daughter of real estate mogul Richard Russell, has reportedly left her husband Kennedy Davenport after a shocking affair with billionaire businessman Orion Konstantinos,
Anya's POVHe gestured toward the door. "Just opposite, across the hall. Close enough that you can call me if you need anything, but far enough to give you privacy. There's an intercom system too—there's a panel by the bed if you need to reach me and don't want to get up."Of course there was an intercom system. Of course this penthouse had every possible amenity and convenience."Thank you," I said again, feeling like the words were inadequate but not knowing what else to say. "Thank you for all of this, Orion. For the room, for bringing me here, for everything. I don't know how I'll ever—""Stop," he said gently but firmly, holding up a hand. "You don't need to keep thanking me, Anya. I want to help you. I *need* to help you. After everything that's happened, after..." He trailed off, his jaw tightening. "Just let me do this. Please."I nodded, my throat tight with emotion.Then a thought occurred to me—something I'd been wondering about but had been too afraid to ask until now. I b
Anya's POVI tried to take a step toward the building entrance, determined to walk on my own, to not be completely helpless. But my knees wobbled dangerously, and I had to grab onto Orion's arm to keep from falling."I'm sorry," I whispered, frustrated with my own body's weakness. "I thought I could—"Before I could finish the sentence, Orion had swept me up into his arms, lifting me effortlessly like I weighed nothing at all. One arm supported my back while the other came under my knees, holding me securely against his chest."Orion, you don't have to—" I started to protest, but he cut me off with a look."You're exhausted and you're healing," he said firmly but gently. "Let me help you."I wanted to argue, wanted to insist that I could walk, that I didn't need to be carried like some helpless damsel. But honestly, being in his arms felt safe and warm, and I was so tired that the thought of trying to walk all the way to his penthouse—however far that was—made me want to cry.So I jus
Anya's POVWe made our way through the hospital corridors—past the nurses' station where several nurses called out warm goodbyes and well-wishes, past other patients' rooms, through the main lobby with its institutional furniture and outdated magazines. People stared at me as we passed. I knew I still looked pretty bad—the bruises on my face were fading but still visible, and I moved stiffly and carefully like every motion hurt.Let them stare. I was alive. That was more than Kennedy had intended.Finally, we made it outside into the bright afternoon sunshine. I squinted against the light, my eyes having gotten used to the dim hospital room over the past week. The fresh air felt amazing after days of breathing recycled, antiseptic-scented hospital air. I took a deep breath—as deep as my ribs would allow—and felt something in my chest ease slightly.Orion's car was waiting at the curb, his driver standing beside it. The same driver who'd rushed me to the hospital that terrible night, t
Anya's POVWhat if he let me down again? What if this care and attention was just temporary, just guilt over what had happened, and eventually he'd go back to his regular life and leave me behind again?I hated that I thought that way. I hated that I couldn't just accept his help and his kindness without questioning it. But five years of Kennedy's manipulation and abuse had taught me not to trust easily, not to believe promises without proof.Today, though, I was trying to focus on the positive.I was finally leaving the hospital.The doctors had cleared me this morning, declaring that while I still needed rest and follow-up appointments and probably some physical therapy for my ribs, I was stable enough to continue my recovery at home rather than taking up a hospital bed. I'd been both relieved and terrified when they'd told me.Relieved because I desperately wanted to get out of this sterile, antiseptic-smelling room with its uncomfortable bed and constant beeping monitors. Relieved
Anya’s POVThe next morning, when I arrived at the mansion, I could tell something was different right away.Orion looked… better.Not completely fine, but better enough that my chest loosened a little. The sharp paleness was gone from his face, and his eyes looked clearer, more focused. He was dre
Anya’s POVLater that afternoon, Jamie arrived at the mansion with the documents. I met him near the front door, the sound of his footsteps echoing softly through the wide hallway. He handed the files to me, thick and neatly arranged, the edges sharp against my palms. They felt heavier than paper s
Anya’s POVThe fever… he must not be thinking straight. He must think I’m someone else—me from before, the girl he once loved or rather pretended to love.I swallowed hard and forced myself to breathe.“I’m right here,” I whispered, even though my voice wobbled. “Just hang on, okay? Don’t move.”He
Anya’s POVSomething dark flashed in Orion's eyes, like a storm cloud rolling in fast. I didn't expect it at all when he lunged forward, his big hand grabbing Phillipe's collar tight, bunching up the fabric. With one strong push, he slammed Phillipe back against the desk.The wood creaked under the







