I loved the son. I married the father. And now… I'm carrying my stepson’s secret baby. Sophia Monroe spent years loving William Hartley—until he shattered her heart by sleeping with her best friend. Humiliated and betrayed, she disappeared, vowing never to look back. Two years later, fate delivers her into the path of Dominic Hartley—William’s father. A ruthless billionaire with ice in his veins and fire in his eyes. He offers her a way out: a flash marriage. Cold. Calculated. Tempting. Sophia says yes—for revenge, for power, and for the only man who sees her worth and takes what he wants. Now, her ex is her stepson. What began as a weaponized marriage spirals into something far more dangerous when old flames reignite, jealousy burns, and obsession deepens. And she’s hiding the one secret that could bring it all crashing down—she’s pregnant with Williams baby after a drunken mistake. Now Sophia must choose: The boy who broke her… Or the man who would burn the world to keep her.
View MoreIt's the wedding day!I never imagined my wedding day would feel like a secret I’m hiding from the world. But when your life becomes a series of betrayals and threats, silence and shadows become the safest companions. Dominic agreed instantly when I told him about the message—the one that arrived just minutes after I signed the contract. The one that chilled my spine and made the ink on the page feel like blood. We still don’t know who sent it, or what they plan to do. That’s why this wedding, our union, had to be private, hidden from prying eyes and whispered rumors. Only a handful of trusted people were invited. No press. No announcements. Just soft music, flickering candles, and the echo of something that feels more like war than love.But even shadows can’t keep out fire.The moment I hear the heavy slam of the doors behind me, I freeze. Every inch of my body goes rigid. I know that voice. That thunder. That storm."What the hell is this?"My breath catches in my throat as I slowl
I tell myself this is just a meeting.Just another business conversation. Another strategic move for the hotel. I even rehearse what I’ll say to Dominic Hartley if he brings up more collaboration terms. Maybe he wants to talk partnerships or another investor pitch. That’s what I tell myselfBut as the elevator rises, and the numbers climb higher and higher toward the top floor, my chest tightens with something else. Not anxiety. Not fear. But the feeling that says this isn’t just about business.When the doors slide open, he’s already waiting for me.Dominic Hartley stands beside the glass wall of his towering office, the city sprawling like a kingdom beneath him, but he’s not looking outside. He’s facing me with that same unreadable expression he wore the last time—dark, composed, sharp in a way that makes every breath I take feel monitored. His suit is immaculate. His presence is overwhelming.“Sophia,” he says smoothly, stepping forward, his voice like velvet and fire stitched into
Two years laterTwo years. It feels like I’ve been holding my breath for two entire years, each inhale shallow, each exhale forced. And yet, I survive. Through betrayal, humiliation, and pain that cracks something sacred inside me, I stand tall. My name, Sophia Monroe, once whispered with judgment and pity, now resonates in boardrooms and banking halls as the founder of Monroe Luxe—the six-star hotel that sits on the city’s skyline like a silent, glorious revenge.But success isn’t as glamorous as it sounds. Behind the glossy magazine features and the televised press interviews, I juggle ledgers and chase investors, sometimes struggle to pay staff, holding down a fortress with holes that nobody but me sees. Debt clings to me like an invisible leech, draining me day by day, feeding on my drive. I haven’t slept properly in months. I eat out of habit, not hunger. Every smile I wear is stitched together with silent screams.And then the invitation arrives. A high-profile business summit h
The rooftop is empty now. I sit alone beneath the six flickering candles that dance like they’re mocking me, their flames burning low just like my patience. The wine has gone warm. My food is untouched. And I’ve counted every step I’ve heard on the stairwell for the past forty minutes—none of them his.Clara and William never came back with that so-called forgotten gift. I should’ve known. I should’ve known the moment they exchanged that glance. The moment William shifted uneasily and Clara dabbed her lips like she was already hiding something she’d tasted and didn’t want me to smell.I check my phone again. No text. No missed calls. Nothing.My heart thuds in my chest like it’s knocking to escape. Every second feels like a judgment. My dress feels too tight, not because it is, but because my lungs don’t trust the air anymore. Something is wrong. Deeply, terribly wrong. And when that kind of knowing sets in, it doesn’t whisper. It claws.I rise from the chair slowly, smoothing the sat
Sophia POVI light the last candle on the table, watching the tiny flame flicker before settling into a soft, steady glow. The wind teases my curls as I step back and take in the rooftop setup. White linens, rose petals, and two wine glasses catching the golden spill of the city lights. It should feel perfect. Magical, even. Six years with William Hartley. Six years of shared birthdays, late-night phone calls, growing dreams, and quiet sacrifices.But tonight, everything feels like it’s trying too hard to be beautiful.Clara—My friend leans back in her seat, legs crossed high, a glass of wine already halfway gone. "You’re always so extra, Soph," she says with a teasing grin, swirling the red liquid like it’s gossip. Her voice is playful, but her eyes are sharp, too sharp for someone already tipsy."It's a special night," I say with a soft smile, forcing warmth into my tone. My voice sounds light, but something in my chest tugs.She laughs. "Yeah, well, I hope your Prince Charming show
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