LOGINClarissa has spent seven years being humiliated, slapped, cheated on, and spoken to like she’s disposable—but the moment she walks in on her husband and his mistress mocking her existence, something inside her finally snaps. What rises in that quiet, beaten-down woman isn’t fear anymore—it’s anger sharp enough to gut an empire. By the time Nicho realizes the wife he thought he owned is about to destroy everything he built, it’s already too damn late. Why don't you read on and see the uprising of Clarissa Monroe...
View MoreDante’s POVI was still furious by the time the sun began to set in the west, I was furious enough that my hands shook every time I touched the keyboard. Someone had breached our system, not just a regular breach. This was different, they had been inside. And they hadn’t left fingerprints, which meant they were good. Very good, more better than a professional.Reed and I had been at it all night, fueled by cold coffee and the kind of tiredness that made every sound feel too sharp. Email logs, server traces, access history, I combed through everything in loops, hoping the tenth pass would show something the ninth hadn’t. It never did and for the first time in a long while, I felt frustrated.“This makes no sense,” Reed muttered for the fifth time. His glasses were smudged, but he hadn’t noticed. “If it were a standard intrusion, we’d see at least a ghost of a pattern. But this—this is like fighting a shadow.”A shadow with government-grade discipline. I didn’t say it aloud, not yet. No
Clarissa’s POVI had spent the entire day rebuilding Vivëe’s presentation slide by slide since the original got stolen. I didn't know if it was necessary but I wanted it as a proof in court that it was my original idea.I had woken up early the next morning, and I told myself keeping busy meant I wouldn’t have to think about Dante, about the case, about the sleepless nights that had started blurring into each other. If I stopped working, even for a moment, everything I’d been shoving into the corner of my mind might break loose and I start thinking again, I was more scared having the thought of Dante. “He was just a friend who wanted to help me.” I tried to assure myself but it wasn't so easy.By eight, my eyes burned from staring at the screen. That was when the doorbell rang.I wasn’t expecting anyone. My pulse jumped as I crossed the room, wiping my hands on my leggings, trying to make the space look less chaotic in the two seconds I had. But when I opened the door, I saw Dante
Dante’s POVThe sun hadn’t even considered rising when I stepped into my office. I walked towards my evidence board, hoping I could get more clues to finally end the court matters. It was becoming more and more serious, I could only put on a straight face when I was with Clarissa so that she didn't become worried. I hated to see her sad or even depressed, I had always wanted the best for her and wanted to see her happy. It seems like her smile was like a soothing relief in my heart.I picked up my pen as I began to mark names and things that looked useful, Every connection I drew only revealed two more I hadn’t seen before. Blackwell’s mess was deeper than anyone wanted to admit, and someone inside that company had gone to great lengths to bury the truth. Clarissa’s name sat in the center of it all not because she was guilty, but because someone wanted the world to think she was and it was obvious who the person was.I rubbed my eyes, already feeling the exhaustion behind them. Anot
Clarissa’s POVI woke to too many papers stacked in uneven piles across my dining table. For a moment I didn’t even understand what I was looking at. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stop the shaking. It didn’t work. The room felt cold even though the heater was humming. I had built everything with my own strength and now everything I had sacrificed for was now dangling over a pit I might never climb out of. By the time the knock came at the door, my throat was already tight with panic.I opened it to find Dante standing there, looking like he’d just walked out of a storm, shirt sleeves rolled up, tie gone, hair slightly mussed as if he’d run a hand through it too many times. He looked calm, but there was tension in his jaw that only someone who knew him could spot.He didn’t ask permission. He stepped inside, took one look at the table, and let out a slow breath.“Don’t panic,” he said, his voice steady in the way mine never was. “We’ll handle this.”Something in me eased
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