LOGINThree years of marriage. One contract. Zero kisses. Lira Hart, rising actress and media sweetheart, has been married to cold, enigmatic billionaire Damian Blackwood for three long, loveless years. Their union was forged not from love, but from a contract signed by their powerful families. While the world envied her last name, Lira knew the truth: he never wanted her. Never touched her. Never looked at her like she mattered. Until the night she asked for a divorce. Suddenly, the man who never cared is showing up on her film sets, making headlines with unexpected kisses, and whispering things that sound dangerously like regret. But Lira’s heart isn’t something she’s willing to gamble anymore, not after three years of being invisible in his world. Can a man who locked his heart away learn how to love the woman who’s already slipping through his fingers? Or is this billionaire three years too late?
View MoreDamian's footsteps echoed sharply against the polished hospital floor as he entered through the glass doors. The antiseptic smell hit him immediately, sharp and clinical. The lobby was busy with people moving in different directions—nurses pushing wheelchairs, doctors walking briskly with clipboards, visitors sitting anxiously in waiting areas.He barely noticed any of it.His eyes scanned the space quickly until he spotted the information desk. A young woman in a crisp blue uniform sat behind it, typing on a computer."Excuse me," Damian said, his voice tight. "Lord Blackwood. Where is he?"The woman looked up, startled by his intensity. She typed quickly on her keyboard. "ICU, third floor. Take the elevator on your right."Damian didn't wait for more directions. He turned sharply and headed toward the elevators. His shoes clicked rapidly against the floor. When he reached the elevator, he jabbed the button repeatedly, his jaw clenched with impatience.The doors finally opened with a
Back at the Blackwood mansion, Damian stood in the kitchen preparing a light snack for Lira. The morning sun poured through the large windows, filling the room with warmth. He arranged sliced fruit on a plate with careful precision, adding a small bowl of yogurt on the side.His phone sat on the counter beside him, face up. He glanced at it occasionally while he worked, but his mind was focused entirely on Lira and the baby.Everything else could wait.He picked up the tray and began walking toward the stairs when his phone suddenly rang. The sound cut through the peaceful silence like a knife.He stopped and looked back. The screen displayed "Mother" in bold letters.His brow furrowed slightly. His mother rarely called him directly. She usually sent messages or had staff relay information. A phone call meant something important. Or urgent.He set the tray down on the counter and grabbed his phone, swiping to answer."Mother?""Damian." Her voice came through broken and shaking. He co
The morning sun rose over the Lord Blackwood estate, casting long shadows across the manicured gardens. The mansion stood tall and imposing, its white walls gleaming under the early light. Everything looked peaceful. Orderly. As it always did.Inside, Lord Blackwood's bedroom was quiet. The heavy curtains were still drawn, blocking most of the sunlight. A faint golden glow seeped through the edges, just enough to illuminate the large four-poster bed where Lord Blackwood lay.He had been awake for over an hour, but he hadn't moved. His body felt heavy and weak. The pain in his stomach had been growing worse each day, but this morning it felt different, sharper, and more insistent.He tried to sit up, but his arms trembled with the effort. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool air conditioning. His breathing came in shallow, uneven gasps.Something was wrong.Very wrong.He reached for the small bottle of medication on his nightstand. The pills the doctor had prescribed. The one
The evening had settled over the city like a thick blanket. Inside Bernard's school auditorium, rows of folding chairs were filled with parents, grandparents, and excited children waiting for the annual school play to begin.The stage was decorated with painted cardboard castles and paper trees. Colorful lights hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over everything. The air smelled faintly of popcorn from the concession stand in the lobby and the nervous energy of children about to perform.Barrister Harrington sat in the third row beside his wife. Mrs. Harrington held the program in her hands, reading through the list of performers with a proud smile. She was dressed elegantly in a navy blue dress, her hair styled beautifully. She looked happy. Excited.The barrister, on the other hand, looked like a man attending his own funeral.His suit was wrinkled despite his wife ironing it that morning. His tie sat crooked. Dark circles hung under his eyes, and his jaw was tight with tensi












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