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Planting the Seeds of Doubt
Last Updated:
2025-06-25 12:11:52
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Betrayed by Blood, Saved by a Billionaire Alexander's Fury, Skye's Fear
The ice age in the penthouse continued, day after agonizing day. Alexander was a remote, formidable presence, a storm cloud permanently hovering on the periphery of my existence. His politeness was a weapon, each curt nod and impersonal word a fresh twist of the knife in my already shredded heart. The man who had whispered "I love you" in the dead of night, the one whose touch had felt like coming home, was gone, replaced by this cold, impenetrable stranger.But beneath that icy control, I could sense something else. A simmering, tightly leashed fury. It wasn’t directed at me, not openly. But it was there, in the way he’d snap at Amelia Thorne over some minor detail in a report, the way his knuckles would go white as he gripped his phone during a particularly tense business call, the way he’d sometimes just stare out the penthouse window, his jaw clenched so tight I was afraid his teeth would crack.This wasn’t just disappointment in me. This was Alexander Sterling at war. With Marcus
Betrayed by Blood, Saved by a Billionaire The Bitter Taste of Doubt
Alexander’s words – “Perhaps you’re right, Skye. Perhaps it was (a mistake).” – echoed in the sterile silence of my studio long after he’d turned his back on me and retreated into that icy fortress of his. Each syllable was a fresh stab to my already bleeding heart.He hadn’t yelled. He hadn’t accused me outright of cheating. But his flat, emotionless tone, the way he’d looked at me with those cold, shuttered eyes… it was worse. So much worse. It was the death of trust. The death of whatever fragile, beautiful thing had been blooming between us.The days that followed were a special kind of hell. The penthouse, which had briefly started to feel like a sanctuary, reverted to being a gilded cage, only now it was a cold, lonely one. Alexander was a ghost. He was physically present, sometimes, moving through the vast, opulent rooms like a shadow, but he wasn’t there. Not with me.The easy camaraderie, the shared smiles, the late-night talks, the tender touches… all gone. Replaced by a chi
Betrayed by Blood, Saved by a Billionaire The Compromising Photo
The air in the penthouse for the next couple of days was thick with an unspoken tension that had nothing to do with Marcus Thorne. It was all Alexander. He was… different. Quieter than usual. More distant. The easy camaraderie we’d started to build, those shared smiles and soft glances, were gone, replaced by a guarded watchfulness that made my stomach clench with a familiar, sickening dread.He didn’t mention Hailey. He didn’t mention Dylan. He didn’t mention any suspicious photos. But I knew. I just knew. Hailey had done it. She’d sent him that picture of me and Dylan at the coffee shop, probably with some twisted, poisonous narrative attached. And now, Alexander was… processing. Or doubting. Or maybe just waiting for me to crack and confess to something I hadn’t even done.It was torture. Every polite "good morning," every impersonal business update he shared, felt like a tiny, sharp icicle piercing my heart. The warmth we’d found, that fragile, beautiful thing we’d whispered into
Betrayed by Blood, Saved by a Billionaire Planting the Seeds of Doubt
Alexander’s fierce protectiveness was like a warm shield around me, but even he couldn’t completely stop the insidious creep of Hailey’s poison. The anonymous texts lessened after he’d apparently had his security and legal teams "send a message" (whatever that entailed, I probably didn’t want to know), but the damage had been done. Those little barbs of doubt she’d planted in my mind kept trying to sprout, especially during the long, quiet hours when Alexander was consumed by his war with Marcus Thorne.I tried to focus on my art, on the fragile, budding reality of my relationship with Alexander. We were good. Better than good. The nights were filled with whispered confessions and tender explorations, the days with a growing, comfortable intimacy. He was still the powerful, enigmatic billionaire, but he was also… Alexander. My Alexander. The man who saw me, the man who, against all odds, loved me.But Hailey, I knew, was not one to give up. If direct attacks on me weren’t working, she
Betrayed by Blood, Saved by a Billionaire Hailey's Twisted Obsession
The fragile peace we’d found, that secret bubble of love and understanding between Alexander and me, felt too good to last. And, of course, it was. Because Hailey Miller, my psycho sister, was not the type to just quietly accept defeat and move on with her life. Oh no. That would be far too… normal.She’d been laying low for a few weeks, a disconcerting silence that was almost more unnerving than her usual histrionics. Mom reported that Hailey was spending most of her time locked in her room at our old family apartment, refusing to see anyone, even Dylan. Dylan, from what little I gathered, was still a mess, torn between his lingering loyalty to Hailey (or maybe just the idea of the perfect life he thought they’d have) and his dawning, horrified realization of just how toxic she truly was. Their "perfect engagement" was apparently hanging by a very frayed thread.I almost felt sorry for Dylan. Almost. But then I’d remember Hailey’s venom, her relentless cruelty, and any sympathy I mig
Betrayed by Blood, Saved by a Billionaire Our Secret, Their Game
The morning after our whispered, world-altering confessions in the library felt like waking up in a completely new universe. The air in the penthouse was different, charged with a kind of giddy, nervous energy that was all ours. The city skyline outside the massive windows seemed brighter, sharper. Even the ridiculously expensive coffee tasted better.Or maybe that was just me, high on a cocktail of love, relief, and sheer, terrified disbelief.Alexander Sterling was in love with me. And I, Skye Miller, the awkward art girl, was irrevocably in love with him. It was the craziest, most improbable thing that had ever happened. And it was also, somehow, the most real.He was different with me now. The lingering touches were less hesitant, more deliberate. The glances across the room were no longer just filled with unspoken attraction, but with a warmth, a possessiveness, a quiet understanding that made my heart do acrobatic flips. When he spoke my name, it was a caress. When he smiled at
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