LOGINFor five years of their contractual marriage, Serena couldn’t even catch a glimpse of her husband Alexander Vanderbilt who fled the country right after he signed the papers. She couldn’t even see him when his assistant came with divorce papers. Unbelievably, their first encounter unfolded as one night of intoxicated intimacy, with both failing to recognize one another. The next morning, she realized what had happened but when her husband still did not recognize her, she did not bother to inform him. Serena believed their paths would never cross again, only to discover that this was the commencement of their intertwined destinies. The next time Serena met with Xander, she used her middle name 'Ava' and her mother's maiden name 'Alvarez'. Recalling the virgin that had shared his bed the previous night, he almost mistook her as a prostitute until he saw her designs for his new house which, according to rumor, he bought for him and his soon-to-be bride and also his first love, Victoria. How ironic. Fate dictated otherwise and true love indeed saves the day as the more they interract, the more Xander started to feel something for Serena while Serena herself remain cool and composed, which only made him even more curious! If only he knows that she is still his wife...
View MoreThe sharp scent of coffee and polished silver lingered faintly in the air when the knock came at the door.Finn moved to open it — and in rolled two waiters pushing a gleaming breakfast cart. Behind them walked a tall man in a crisp white chef’s uniform, sleeves rolled just so, his movements confident and unhurried.Ava’s brows lifted the moment she saw him.Ezra?“Chef Rogan, at service number six,” Ezra announced with a courteous smile, stepping onto the terrace behind the waitstaff. His voice carried its usual warmth — polished and effortlessly charming. “I’m here to serve breakfast for Mr. Vanderbilt and Miss Vega.”He stood neatly beside the dining table, posture casual yet professional, his smile widening by a fraction. “May I know your preferences, Mr. Vanderbilt? How do you like your eggs done?”Ava blinked, momentarily thrown.In-room dining for the Presidential Suite was always handled by the head chef — never a sous-chef, and certainly not by Ezra Rogan himself. What on ear
The moment Ava stepped out of the lift, Finn Huntley was already waiting. The man’s polished smile and immaculate posture practically screamed assistant to a Vanderbilt.“Miss Vega,” he greeted, dipping his head politely. “Good morning.”Ava stopped mid-stride, tilting her head. “Mr. Huntley, what a surprise. You were looking for me?”“Yes,” he said pleasantly, though his eyes betrayed the faintest flicker of nerves. “Mr. Vanderbilt would like to see you in his suite. He’s prepared a gift for you.”Ava’s brows arched. A gift? From him?It was barely nine in the morning. What game was that man playing now?She glanced around — a few members of staff were watching from down the hall, whispering behind their hands. Maintaining her poise, Ava smiled thinly.“Please tell Mr. Vanderbilt,” she said lightly, “that I’m very busy with work and have no time for such… childish diversions.”She turned to walk away.“Miss Vega,” Finn called after her, still smiling though his tone had grown more ca
Back in her own room, Ava slipped through the open door onto the terrace, the cool air washing over her skin like a sigh from the night itself.Spring had settled over London — that uncertain season where the air was warm enough to breathe softly against the skin, yet still sharp enough to bite when the wind turned.She drew her arms around herself, her cotton shirt fluttering slightly as the breeze slipped down her collar, a chill whisper tracing along her neck — right where the bruise lay hidden.The city below was quiet. Streetlamps cast pale pools of amber light over the empty pavements, and somewhere in the distance, the Thames murmured under the bridges.For a few moments, she simply stood there, letting the silence soothe the storm still lingering in her chest.Then something caught her eye.A black sedan.Parked neatly at the edge of the road, just beneath her building. Its engine was off, headlights dark, but the faint metallic gleam of its body reflected the streetlight abov
Ava snapped back to reality and yanked the building door open, the chill of the night air rushing against her skin as she stepped outside.The Bentley was still there, its black surface glinting under the streetlight. Finn had just closed the passenger door and was rounding the bonnet when he saw her appear on the steps.He hesitated, unsure whether to intervene. The driver, out of courtesy, lowered the window on Alexander’s side.Ava stopped midway down the stairs, her breath steady but her heart still unquiet. “Mr. Vanderbilt,” she said clearly, her tone sharp and formal, “you needn’t waste your efforts. I’m not interested in you.”Inside the car, Alexander turned his head slightly — the faintest movement — his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the dashboard. His blue eyes found hers through the open window, cool and fathomless as deep water.“I’m interested in you,” he said simply.The words landed like a challenge.Ava opened her mouth, then closed it again, utterly at a lo












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