MasukFive years locked away. Her only child taken away. One cold, disabled billionaire husband. Liana Dakota will do anything to get her daughter back, even marry Logan Grey, a ruthless, reclusive CEO in a wheelchair. The deal is simple: be his fake wife, save her child. But nothing is ever simple. Not when her past still haunts her. Not when the man she once loved disappeared without a word. And definitely not when her heart starts to betray her… again.
Lihat lebih banyakKEITHI didn’t want to let her go. I didn’t want to move or do anything that would drift us apart again, but she looked me in the eyes and said she needed time alone. That I should leave when the rain stopped. So I let her go, even though every part of me was screaming not to. When I heard her door slam shut, I followed the sound and stood right in front of it. Then I heard soft sobs, muffled but clear enough to break something in me. I dropped to my knees, head bowed, fists clenched tight. And I stayed there, cursing myself.Why did it take so long for my memories to come back? Why now, when everything was already broken? She went through hell without me. And I wasn’t just not there, I forgot her. I forgot the girl who saved me when I couldn’t save myself. I forgot the one person who pulled me out of my own darkness, and in return, I left her in hers. Alone. She was pregnant, and I didn’t even know. Her losing our child was entirely my fault. If I hadn’t gotten in that accident, if
It started raining.I’d already freshened up, my hair down, and slipped into one of my oversized t-shirts. But even still, I couldn’t stop thinking. I kept replaying everything that happened at the restaurant, trying to make sense of it—why he looked like that, why he held my hand like he was in pain, and why he pleaded for me to make it stop. What was “it”?My body jerked when my phone buzzed on the sofa. The staff had already left. It was just me in the house now, and the rain outside was getting heavier. I reached for my phone, the screen lighting up with a single message—from anonymous. “Large size T-shirts? A black lingerie would look better on you. Just checking to know if you’re still going according to the plan.”What?I swallowed the lump in my throat. Anonymous was a man. Only a shitty man would comment on how a woman should dress. Wait. Large-sized t-shirts? My chest tightened. He’s watching me. He’s always been watching. Suddenly, the doorbell rang and my body jumped agai
I’d been isolated for years. Staying in that house alone brought back too many flashbacks—flashbacks from the basement. I didn’t want the past haunting me anymore. I had to stay positive for Hannah.I twisted the knob and opened the door that led to the greenhouse. The fresh scent of leaves and flowers wrapped around me the moment I stepped in. I remembered being obsessed with flowers when I was nine. Mom had her little garden, and after school, I’d always find her there—tending to her flowers and talking to them like they could hear her. She said it helped them bloom better.Back then, I thought flowers were magic. I was addicted to their scent. But growing up now… flowers don’t smell like they look. Not even close. They smelled weird. Growing up is realizing flowers aren’t loved for how they smell—but for how they look.I was still staring at the lilies when I heard the clicking of heels on the smooth pavement. I froze. Someone was here.I turned to see who it was. Blanca, in a cre
"Mom, I want ice cream. They don't have that here," a big brown-eyed boy whined to his mom, who wouldn't let go of his hand. "Can't you just give me a pass for today?" I stood a few feet away from them, watching. She didn't look like motherhood was weighing her down—she looked the opposite, her hair was neatly styled in a side bob, no spill on her dress either. I'd seen mothers on the internet complaining about how tough it is, and to add, they all have something in common—messy bun that's barely holding on with a stretched-out scrunchie, dark under-eye circles from poor sleep and stress, coffee and food stains on their clothes. Maybe they were exaggerating, or maybe it was true. I wouldn’t know until I experienced it.I wondered what kind of child Hannah was. The whining-for-everything type? The one in love with animals? The quiet one? The messy one? Would she cry at bedtime and beg for one more story? Would she scream for no reason and then laugh like nothing happened? I smiled












Welcome to GoodNovel world of fiction. If you like this novel, or you are an idealist hoping to explore a perfect world, and also want to become an original novel author online to increase income, you can join our family to read or create various types of books, such as romance novel, epic reading, werewolf novel, fantasy novel, history novel and so on. If you are a reader, high quality novels can be selected here. If you are an author, you can obtain more inspiration from others to create more brilliant works, what's more, your works on our platform will catch more attention and win more admiration from readers.