Emery Sinclair had spent years perfecting the art of being the perfect wife. The devoted, loyal, and elegant Mrs. Sinclair. Even when whispers of her husband's infidelity trailed after her like a ghost, she held her head high, convinced that love—her love—was enough to fix the cracks in her marriage. But the moment she walks into that hotel suite and finds her husband entangled with another woman, something inside her shatters. She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t scream. Instead, she walks away, her heart numb, her mind spinning. The life she built is over. The man she sacrificed everything for never deserved her. Then comes Killian Wolfe. Cold, calculating, and ruthlessly powerful, Killian is everything her husband is not. And he is done watching from the sidelines. For years, he’s kept his distance, biting his tongue as his foolish stepbrother squandered the one good thing in his life. But now? Now, Killian doesn’t hold back. He steps in—offering her a way out, a place to stay, and, most dangerously, a deal she never saw coming. "Let me take care of you," he tells her, his voice a low, commanding whisper. She should say no. She should run. Because nothing about Killian Wolfe comes without a cost. But the way he looks at her—like she’s something precious, something worth ruining kingdoms for—makes her wonder if, just this once, she should let herself be wanted. The game changes in a single night. A kiss turns into something more, and before she knows it, she’s tangled in his sheets, in his world, and in his control. But Killian doesn't just want her in his bed. He wants everything—her body, her mind, her soul. And most terrifying of all? He wants her heart.
Lihat lebih banyakThe invitation was made of ivory cardstock, laced in gold foil, and wrapped in a lie.The Ashworth Foundation Annual Charity Gala.Dress code: cruelty masked in couture.I stood beneath the towering glass arch of the Venari Ballroom, the cold winter wind teasing the slit of the silk gown I wore. Midnight blue. Backless. Sleek. A fabric that kissed every curve and promised power I hadn’t quite reclaimed yet.Killian’s assistant had dropped it off that morning, boxed and pressed and paired with heels I couldn’t pronounce. The note attached was simple.Wear it. Remind them who the hell you are.I did.Because tonight, I would walk into a room that once praised me... and now waited to devour me.The moment I stepped from the car, a wall of camera flashes exploded across the curb. Shutters clicked like rapid-fire gunshots. Reporters shouted questions I didn’t answer.“Emery, is it true you were never married to Tobias?”“Were you the other woman all along?”“Where have you been hiding?”I
I hadn’t left the penthouse in four days.I didn’t need to. Killian’s place sat above the city like it was built to defy gravity—above the noise, above the gossip, above the ashes of my life.No reporters camped out front. No curious neighbors. Just silence. Stillness. Glass walls that watched the city breathe beneath my bare feet.Each morning, I woke up and made tea I never drank. I wandered across the cold stone floors, circled the same rooms like they might offer clarity if I passed them enough times. I stared out at the skyline until my vision blurred and my thoughts drifted into nothing.And every time I passed the teddy bear on the couch, something inside me twisted so hard I thought I’d tear in half.The silence didn’t scare me.It was the only thing that made sense anymore.Killian gave me space and that was what I appreciated the most.He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t offer or give any unwanted pity. Just presence quiet which was ConstanceThe sound of ice clinking in a glass
I didn’t cry.Didn’t scream.“Go to the sitting room and wait for me, Emery.” Tobias said putting on a shirt, “we will talk about this and I know you will understand.”I resisted the urge to scoff. Go to the sitting room and wait for him? At what point, did I make Tobias believe he could treat me this way and I’d be nothing but docile about it?I had no idea but somehow I’ve successfully and unintentionally passed that message.I took a deep breath which did nothing to calm the raging storm of anger and pain brewing inside me - and walked away from the room.There was no need to argue or give in to the urge to yell and curse at them.What would that do?I just walked.Each step echoed against the marbled floors of the Sinclair Tower. “Good evening, Mrs. Sinclair,” the butler greeted me by the hallway, as if I hadn’t just been dragged through hell. As if my husband hadn’t just killed our child.I didn’t respond. I walked past him like I didn’t hear. Like I wasn’t carrying death beneat
My legs wouldn’t stop trembling, no matter how tightly I pressed them together. My fingers kept tapping against the velvet box beside me, restless and unable to stay still. I inhaled slowly, trying to calm the nervous energy crawling under my skin, then looked down at the box.It was small, wrapped in soft black velvet and tied with a satin ribbon I had redone three times before leaving the store.Inside, it held a gold-plated rattle I bought an hour ago from a boutique downtown. There wasn’t a card or bouquet of flowers—just this tiny gift and the hope that it might spark something good again.Hope that maybe—just maybe—this child would bring us back to the beginning.“Surprise him,” my best friend had said over the phone. “Make it sweet. Remind him why he chose you.”But deep down, I wasn’t sure he even remembered why he had.My phone buzzed in my lap, pulling me from my thoughts. I reached for it quickly, expecting a promotional text or another message from my mother reminding me
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