ログインThe morning sun hits the pavement with a cold, blinding glare as I step out of our apartment building. Joan is right behind me, her hand gripping my forearm so tightly her knuckles are white. "Mara, please," Joan begs, her voice raspy from crying half the night. "Don't go there alone. You saw his message. You read what he wrote. If he calls the police on you—" "I have to do this, Joan," I say, gently but firmly pulling my arm free from her grasp. I turn to face her, wrapping my jacket tighter around my shivering frame. The morning air feels sharp against my fever-flushed skin, and my stomach churns with that familiar, sickening roll. "He needs to know. He can hate me, he can threaten me with prison, but he cannot pay me off like some whorewhile this baby exists." "Then let me come with you," she insists, tears welling up in her red-rimmed eyes again. "I'm not letting you face that monster by yourself." "No," I say, shaking my head. "If you come, it becomes a scene. He'll thi
A few weeks bled together in a blur of gray mornings and endless torment of silence. Every single day began the exact same way: I would reach for my phone the second I opened my eyes, hoping to see a missed call, a single text, or any sign that Adrian was still alive and breathing in the same city. But the screen stayed dark. He had completely erased himself from my life. Joan was furious. Every time his name came up while she was cooking or clearing away the dishes in our small kitchen, her jaw would set into a hard line. "He's a coward, Mara," she snapped one evening, slamming a wooden spoon onto the counter. "A wealthy, arrogant coward. You were grieving your mother! He took advantage of you when you were completely broken, spent the night with you, and then dumped an address on a piece of paper and vanished. I don't care how much money he has—he's trash." I didn't defend him. I couldn't. The hollow ache in my chest had settled into something heavy and permanent. To mak
I turned off the shower, wrapped a plush towel around Mara’s wet frame, and carried her back into the dimly lit bedroom. My body was still buzzing with the aftershocks of what had just happened in that stall: the raw, possessive intensity of taking her against the marble, the overwhelming need to mark her as mine even while my head screamed at me not to trust her. I dressed her gently in a soft silk nightie, smoothing the fabric over her damp skin. She was so weak she could barely keep her eyes open, her body heavy with exhaustion. I pulled back the heavy duvet, slid her onto the crisp sheets, and climbed in beside her. I pulled her flush against my chest, wrapping my arms around her waist in a tight, unyielding grip. Mara let out a long, shuddering sigh, resting her head in the crook of my neck, her small hand resting over my heart. As her breathing slowed and she began to drift off, her voice broke through the quiet room, barely above a whisper. "Adrian... I want to see
Adrian Pov The small, desperate sound of her voice caught me right before my hand turned the brass handle. Don't go. Please... I don't want to be alone tonight. I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second, my jaw clenching so tight my teeth groaned under the pressure. Every protective, primal instinct inside me roared to turn around, drag her into my arms, and erase the pain carved into her face. But the cold, hard logic in my brain slammed the door shut. She was a liar. She had walked into my life under a fake name, carrying Julian Vance’s dirty work directly into my home. She had looked me in the eyes, let me put my hands all over her body, and still lied to my face when I gave her every chance to confess. I should have thrown her to the wolves the second Carter handed me her file. I couldn't even bring myself to say her real name out loud. Yet, I couldn't stop looking at her. I couldn't stop the dark, poisonous need to possess every single piece of her, even the broke
The room went entirely motionless. The crackle of the fireplace, the dull thud of rain against the glass, the sound of my own ragged breathing—everything collapsed into a cold, hollow vacuum. I stared at him, my brain refusing to process the four words that had just left his mouth. "What?" I whispered. "No. No, that’s... that’s not true. She was stable. I paid the money, Julian promised—" "Julian had nothing to do with it," Adrian said flatly. There was no pity in his voice. No warmth, no tremor of regret, no softer edge to cushion the blow. His posture remained stiff, his broad shoulders squared, his steel-grey eyes unreadable and distant. He sat back slightly, removing his hand from my face, placing his broad palms on his knees as if delivering a routine report on a failed corporate asset. "Her renal functions collapsed two nights ago," he continued, his tone smooth, measured, and entirely detached. "The staff at St. Jude's attempted resuscitation at 02:00, but her heart
The world returned in slow, agonizing waves. First came the sound—a heavy, rhythmic thrumming of rain beating against high glass windows. Then came the pain. A sharp, violent throbbing echoed behind my temples with every pulse of my heart, so deep and heavy that even keeping my eyes closed felt like an exhausting task. I groaned, my throat feeling as dry as sand as I forced my eyelids open. The light in the room was dim, filtered through heavy charcoal drapes. I blinked away the haze, trying to make sense of my surroundings. I wasn't in the damp, rotting concrete room anymore. There was no smell of rust, no sound of dripping water, and no iron cuffs cutting into my wrists. Instead, I was lying on a massive king-sized bed wrapped in crisp, high-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets. How did I know that? Yeah I've done my fair share of housekeeping. The scent of fresh forest, amber, and expensive leather hung rich in the air. The room was expansive and distinctly masculine, f
Handsome didn’t quite cut it. He was stunning, the kind of man who made people stop mid-sentence without even realizing it. His hair was jet black, cut sharp at the sides, falling just enough over his forehead to make him look recklessly elegant. He stood at least six-foot-five, broad-shouldered w
The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped out into the afternoon air with the biggest grin I’d had in months. The sun hit my face, warm and sharp, and for once, it didn’t feel like the city was working against me. I had a job. Not just any job —an in. People in expensive shoes brushed past
To win the game, you have to study the players……. if there’s ones thing being broke has taught me is how to win no matter what. The apartment hummed like a tired refrigerator when I came in, the same familiar, low-grade noise that meant the world kept turning even if mine felt stuck. I dropped my
I am fucking tired.If I have to serve one more sorry-ass, rude rich couple with their fake smiles and diamond-studded entitlement, I might as well just throw myself under the next delivery truck.My life is nothing but hell — working four jobs, unpaid bills, student loans, a sick mother, and a lan







