Mag-log inA forbidden romance that feels so wrong but yet, so right. I was supposed to be his perfect wife. His breeding vessel, he'd said. Marcus Blackwell married me with a fake certificate, used my body to get me pregnant, and planned to steal my baby before throwing me away like garbage. So I ran and built an empire. I became everything he said I'd never be. And six years later, I'm back in New York—successful, powerful, untouchable. Until I meet HIM. The dark dangerous man I had a passionate one night stand with weeks ago. The same man who had given me sleepless nights just thinking about him. One night of passion that changes everything, and one problem that might destroy my one chance at happiness: He's my Ex-husband father. His hands gripped my hips as he thrust deeper, his breath hot against my neck. *"This is wrong," I gasped, even as my body arched into him, feeling him deep inside my core. " Ahh fuck,” I cried out loud as he pinched my nipples hard. “You're his father—" “And you're not his wife anymore,” he groaned roughly as his teeth grazed my throat. "You're mine now, and nothing will change that, my little rebel.” His thrust became faster as he pounded into me like an animal. “James!...hmmpph.” *"Scream my name again,” he growled. “Say you're mine!” “I'm yours," I whispered, hating myself for how much I meant it. “I'm so fucking yours, Daddy!” “His smile against my skin was pure sin. "Good girl. Now let me show you what it's like to be worshipped instead of used." James Blackwell doesn't just want revenge on his son. He wants me; Completely, Obsessively, and Permanently. But Marcus isn't done destroying me.
view moreChapter 1
“Date me…that’s the payment I want.” her voice stung his ears. It took him aback. It was his first time to meet a girl like her. In their sleepy hometown, where the conservative outlook was standard, girls like her will be the topic of gossip and derision. Gabi Ariola was a bad egg.
The church bell toll from afar. Reminding people that the six o’clock mass in the morning is already approaching. She tried to block the noise but her mother’s shrill voice keeps on nagging her to wake up for their Sunday mass. She hides behind the pillows and stuffs her ears but the bell combined with her mother’s insistent call pushed her to wake up from a very good dream. Dreams that even no saint will blush. Grudgingly, she pulled herself up from the bed thumped down to the “everyone’s bathroom” located on the ground floor. They only have one bathroom despite how big their house is.
It was an old house built before the war of 1942. Her parents bought it from a widowed aunt who did not need much bathroom since she doesn’t have any children nor husband. The aunt sold the house when her relatives start coming to her house and living with her. In her own words, “The leeches are waiting for me to die so that they will spend my money. Might as will sell my house and enjoy the last days of my life in luxury”. So, that is how her parents took hold of the property. Since the budget was tight, her parents end up scrimping the little money they have and making do with the present situation.
Perhaps, the best outcome of their move to this sleepy town called Galas is that the neighborhood is pretty safe and everyone knows anybody. She also grows up just around this place since her grandparents were quite popular in this town. The name is well respected, especially on her mother’s side. Her dad, had only his name when she married her mom but soon after because he was married to a Moran, who was the youngest daughter of the town lawyer he was given an opportunity to work in the old mill owned by her mother’s parents. With her father’s supervision, the mill has expanded into a grocery store. Now, the people produced can also be sold in the grocery store that her dad owns.
“Gabi! You stop staring at space and get your ass in the bathroom!” her mother Pam scream at her while setting up the table for breakfast.
She sighed and lumbered towards the bathroom and pushed open the door when she hears her sister scream, “Sorry!” she called out at her sister Sam.
“Here, eat your breakfast first then have your bath later after Sam.” Her mother pulled the dining chair and pushed her in one of the chairs.
“Will be late for church if I will eat breakfast now. I will eat later once we’re back from the mass.” She stood up and walked back to the bathroom and knock on the door.
“Sam if you will not be out in 10 seconds, I will enter the bathroom. One…two…three….” The door swung open and her sister furious face emerged with her head still wet.
“Next time when you start your counting game with me, I will punch your face!” her sister stormed upstairs muttering a threat at her sister. Gabi grinned as she watched her sister departing figure. She whistled and entered the bathroom. Hers at last.
They arrived at the church late. And the worst part, they arrived during Father Joe’s sermon. Her bushy white brows furrowed and his eagle eyes followed their small group as they entered the church to look for a seat. Gabi tried to disappear between the rows of pews but she knows it to no avail. Some churchgoers, turn and looked at them and she felt that they committed a mortal sin to be late. Her family tried to look for an individual seat on her own while she manages to squeeze in the middle of the pews and sat down between snobbish Ella Aquila and an old man who stared at her with cold eyes. His haughty handsome feature galvanized her for a moment then she smiled apologetically at him. Everybody knows Julian Mariano. He owns half of the land of Galas and he lives in a huge mansion with his nephew Rafa.
The priest looked at her and continued to say, “What happened to the women who were late because they were not ready with their lamps? They were not permitted to enter the gate for the wedding. Today, we saw the same thing happening over and over again…people lost the value of time. They think the world waits for them…” Gabi flushed in embarrassment as their priest chastised the latecomers using the story of the bible of the parable of the ten virgins. It was a long sermon and her ears were singing by the time Father Joe was done with them. She cannot believe that his sermon extended fifteen minutes more just discussing the value of time. She felt her hair at her back crawl as some churchgoers throw them a look and some even murmured about the extra minutes which was caused by their family.
To her, it was twice as long as the usual mass. She sighed in relief when the priest ended the ceremony and to tell them to go in peace. She smiled at the old man beside him and said, “How are you today Mr. Mariano?”
“Not so good…my schedule was hampered due to a very long sermon.” Gabi’s face turns red.
“I’m sorry…showing up late triggered Fr. Joe to expound on the sermon.”
“Well, it would not have mattered to me but I have a cinema to open. Sunday is the best time people will come to see movies. It looks like it could open late. It’s hard to find someone to do it on Sundays.” He stood up putting back his cap and using his cane with Lion’s head handle as a prop for him to stand up.
She blurted excitedly, “I could help you…I’m free on weekends.”
The old man stared at her for a long time. Then he said, “Start next Saturday. “He ambled his way out when he remembered something, “What is your name again?”
“Gabi Ariolla.” She smiled happily at the man. “I’m David and Pamela’s daughter. We own the grocery which delivered to your home weekly.”
“I figured…when you arrived late together with them.”
She bit her lip, “You’re not letting me go with my lateness, are you?”
“Nope child…I don’t want you to be late. If God is more forgiving. I’m the opposite. You only get one chance. Understand?”
“Yes sir, loud and clear” she gamely saluted at the old man.
He shook his head and ambled away muttering to himself, “The youngsters of today…”
Gabi skipped her way towards her parents who were talking to some friends. They looked at her worriedly. Her mother grabbed her hand in concern as she approached them.
“What did Mr. Mariano say to you?” her mother asked.
“Not much…” Dramatically she paused then flips her long hair and said, “I just been offered a job to work on weekends in his cinema.” Of course, she didn’t need to know that she volunteers to work there.
Her father proudly touched her head and said, “That’s great Gab! Working for the man is a great experience for you, once you graduate you can easily get a job anywhere here if you’ve worked for the man”
Pam looked at her suspiciously, “Is that true? Did he really offer you a job?”
“Mom, you doubt your daughter? For your information, I will be working on weekends. It’s not full-time because I have school.”
Her mother smiled, “I’m just surprised. You just sat with him in the pew and he offered you a job. That’s quite er…outstanding.”
“He must be impressed with me my, ahh…character?”
Her sister Angela pipes in, “I’m pretty sure your character is impressive and I suffered it my whole sixteen years.”
David, her father warns his youngest daughter, “Enough…stop already. “
Gabi clipped her words when she saw his father’s upset face. She would love to give her sister a wordy thrashing but her father glared at the two of them while his father friend watched them amusedly.
“I’m sorry Bud…daughters could be a handful at times but they are really good kids you know.”
Bud laughed. “Well, you should try having sons too. They are the worst. My two boys always ended with black eyes or bloodied nose.”
“I always like to have a son but God instead gives me two pretty daughters. I guess he realized having boys would make all my hairs disappear.” They laughed at the idea. His father still looked young with his hair full while Bud, his friend has a receding hairline that shows some sign of baldness.
Gabi and Angela race towards their home. The first one to arrive will be spared from washing the plates they left in a hurry because of the mass. Angela’s long legs sprinted home while she followed with her lungs bursting with her effort. Angela was taller and had long legs. Her slim body and long limbs made her look like a model. While she is the opposite. If her sister had already had a boyfriend and lots of suitors, Gabi, was the opposite. At eighteen, she remained single and never had an experience with having a boyfriend.
“This is not fair Angie…your taller and faster than me…” she gasped in between breaths. Angela laughed triumphantly.
“Sis, nothings fair in this world. Just do the dishes while I get back on my bed.” She pokes out her tongue at her. Madly she dashes towards her sister but she too is agile and ran upstairs laughing at her futile attempt.
Gabi walked back towards the kitchen and started washing the plates. Their parents arrived later but left again to check on their grocery store. She was left alone doing housework. She doesn’t mind, she enjoys doing it. Besides, today was a special day, she just has a job that made her closer to the man she silently admired from afar. Rafa Mariano.
The Paris order shipped on a Tuesday. Thirty-two pieces, each one cut around the water marks or with the tide lines stitched into the design on purpose. I signed off on the final box and pressed my palm against the cardboard like I could send a message through it. This is what surviving looks like. This is what staying looks like.Tayo took a photo of me doing it and sent it to the group chat with the caption: Boss sending love to France. I rolled my eyes, but I saved the photo. Proof for the days I forgot.That night I couldn’t sleep. Not from panic. From the quiet that came after a storm. The studio was empty for the first time in weeks. No fans. No interns. No orders to fill. Just me and the hum of the fridge and the weight of a week I’d been holding up.James found me at the cutting table at midnight, running my fingers over the leftover blue silk. The scraps too small for dresses but too big to throw away. “You’re thinking loud again,” he said from the doorway. “Old habit,” I
The fans at the studio ran for three days straight. A low, steady roar that got into my dreams and made me wake up thinking I was still mopping water off the cutting table. By Thursday the floor was dry, the air didn’t smell like mildew anymore, and the restoration guys said we’d gotten lucky. “Lucky” still meant two weeks behind schedule and a Paris buyer who’d already emailed twice asking for updates.I answered the emails at 2 AM, short and honest. There was a flood. We lost some pieces. The collection will be late, but it will be worth the wait. I hit send before I could delete it and rewrite it ten times. That was new too. Not apologizing for things I couldn’t control.James slept on the couch at the studio the first night because I couldn’t stand being there alone. The second night he convinced me to come home. “The fans are loud, Aria. You need actual sleep, not the kind where you’re half listening for pipes to burst.” He was right. I slept eight hours for the first time in wee
The morning after came soft. No alarms. No emails. Just light through the blinds and James already in the kitchen, moving quiet so he wouldn’t wake me. I heard the kettle click off and smelled coffee, then toast. Burnt, like always.I pulled on his hoodie from the chair and walked out barefoot. “You’re up early,” I said. He turned with a plate in his hand. Half the toast was black. The other half was just pale. “I was trying to get it right,” he said, setting it down. “Failed.”I sat at the table and took a bite anyway. Still tasted like him. “You don’t have to cook,” I told him. “I know,” he said, pouring me coffee. “I want to. You let me handle dinner last night. Fair trade.”Lily would’ve rated it a three out of ten. I gave it a seven, just to make him smile. He did, quick and real, then sat across from me with his own mug. No phone. No TV. Just the sound of the street below and us not filling the silence.My phone buzzed. Tayo. Studio flooded. Pipe burst. We’re moving
The apartment was quiet when I got home. Too quiet. Lily was at her dad’s for the weekend, so there were no shoes by the door, no half-finished drawing on the table. Just the hum of the fridge and the city outside the window. I dropped my bag and stood there for a second, not sure what to do with my hands.James looked up from the couch. He’d been reading, but the book was closed in his lap now. “You’re early,” he said. “Traffic was light,” I lied. Traffic was never light. I just couldn’t stand the studio anymore. Too many eyes, too many questions about the new collection.He stood and came over, not touching me at first. He knew. He always knew. “Bad day?” “Long day,” I said. Then, because he was waiting, “They want me to explain the inspiration again. Like I owe them a reason for making clothes that don’t make women feel small.”James nodded. He didn’t try to fix it. He just said, “You want to talk about it, or you want me to make pasta and we don’t talk?”I almost laughed.
CHAPTER FOUR"Every single word,” I seethed, my voice hard. “Every single insult and shame you painted on my name. I heard every bloody thing, Marcus.”"Aria, please. I know what you're probably thinking, but I swear– I regret every single thing. Let me explain—""Explain what? That you married me
The plane touched down at JFK and my stomach turned inside out.Six years. Six years since I'd set foot in this city that had broken me. Since I'd run with nothing but a bag and Marcus's baby growing inside me."Mommy, look!" Lily pressed her face against the window. "Is this where Daddy lives? Does
The contractions started at 3 AM in a London studio apartment I rented– it barely fit a bed. I was alone, rain hammering the window,and no one to call for help. I dialed emergency services with shaking hands."My water just broke. I'm alone,”I cried into the phone. A few minutes later, the ambulanc
I was going to surprise him. I had just gotten back from the hospital where I was told I would be having a girl. My stomach looked so swollen and I felt so fat.But it didn't matter, because my husband, Marcus Blackwell said I looked just okay.“You might look ugly and fat now, but I promise that d












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