Adrian Lancaster was born into privilege, loved by all except the one who mattered. From childhood, the heir to a powerful legacy clung to the girl he believed was his future. She was everything his family wanted: wealthy, poised, perfect. But beneath the surface, his heart beat for someone else, a man he'd loved in secret for years. When his domineering grandfather arranges a marriage with a partner daughter Celeste to “save face” and secure their reputation, he’s forced to choose duty over desire. Bound in a loveless marriage, he tries to be the perfect husband, kind, attentive, never letting his new wife see the truth in his eyes. But secrets don’t stay buried forever. When his wife uncovers the devastating truth about his forbidden love, her world shatters. Torn between betrayal and sympathy, she must decide if she’ll stand by him or walk away. As the lies unravel, divorce becomes inevitable, and with it comes the wrath of a powerful family and the shame of societal judgment. Now, caught between expectations and his own identity, he must fight for the man he truly loves while facing the consequences of a life built on silence. Will he finally choose love over legacy, or will his past destroy any chance of happiness? A story of forbidden love, heartache, loyalty, and finding the courage to live your truth, even when the world says you can’t.
Lihat lebih banyakChapter 1
ADRIAN POINT OF VIEW The crystal glasses clink around me. I force a smile I've practiced since I was a kid. The Whitehall Hotel ballroom shines with money, bright lights, women with jewels,men in expensive suits. This is my world. My beautiful prison. "Lancaster Enterprises is growing in new markets," I hear myself say to the businessmen around me. The words come out automatically while my mind wanders. "Our Asian expansion is up seventeen percent." They nod, impressed. They should be. At twenty-eight, I proved myself quickly in the family business. I brought fresh ideas that doubled company profits in three years. My grandfather Reginald only gave me this job after I got my master's degree and proved I was "worthy" of the Lancaster name. "Your grandfather must be proud," says Jefferson Moore, an old family friend who once tried to set me up with his daughter. I take a burning sip of whiskey. "Grandfather is never satisfied," I say lightly, though the words carry the weight of my whole life trying to be good enough. As they start talking about golf and vacation homes, my eyes search the room without meaning to. I don't want to admit who I'm looking for. Then I see him. Elias stands by the bar, his tall body easy to spot even in the crowd. The sight knocks the air from my lungs. It's been three days since we last stole time together, rushed hour in my downtown apartment, away from watching eyes. Three days of empty texts that said nothing real because we can't risk the truth. Elias wears a simple black suit that fits him perfectly. No family fortune bought it, just his hard work and good taste. He works at Morrison Architects, a firm that often competes against Lancaster developments. Our work rivalry makes our secret relationship even more dangerous. "Excuse me," I say, walking away before anyone can respond. I move through the crowd, nodding at people whose names I barely know. People my family thinks are important enough to mix with. The Lancaster name opens doors, creates chances, demands respect. It also builds walls and controls my choices. I reach the bar but stay far from where Elias talks with a woman I don't know. I order another whiskey, my third tonight. Not enough to numb the pain, but enough to make me dangerous to myself. "Another Lancaster Enterprises success," says a voice beside me. Gregory Williams, head of a rival company, appears at my elbow. "Your grandfather must be enjoying the glory." I look across the room where Grandfather holds court. At eighty-four, he's still powerful, straight-backed, silver-haired, cold blue eyes that miss nothing. Eyes that have narrowed with disappointment so many times in my life. "Grandfather doesn't enjoy," I say. "He plans the next conquest." Gregory laughs. "The old lion never rests. Speaking of conquests, I hear congratulations are coming. Your grandfather mentioned changes in your personal life." The whiskey turns sour in my mouth. Another announcement Grandfather made without asking me. Another decision about my life made by someone else. "Grandfather speaks out of turn," I say, keeping my voice steady despite the anger burning inside me. "My mistake." Gregory's smile is fake. "I'll wait for the official news." When he walks away, I grip the bar until my knuckles turn white. Two years of hiding my relationship with Elias, of meeting in secret places, of being careful with every word, every look. Two years of loving someone I can never show to the world while Grandfather plans my future as if I have no say at all. I risk another glance at Elias and find him already looking back. Our eyes meet across the crowded room, and everything else fades, the music, the laughter, the expectations. Just for a moment. Elias's face stays neutral, showing nothing to anyone watching. But I see what others can't, the slight tightness around his eyes, the almost hidden clench of his jaw, the way his fingers grip his glass too hard. Signs that tell me everything words can't. Someone calls Elias's name, breaking our connection. He turns away, and I feel the loss like a physical wound. I down my drink and slam the empty glass on the bar. The bartender looks up, startled, but I'm already moving toward the terrace doors. I need air. I need space from the crushing weight of pretending. The night air hits my face, cold and sharp. Spring is here, but the nights still feel like winter. I welcome it, hoping it might clear my head. The terrace is empty, everyone still inside enjoying the warmth and music and fake happiness. "Running away again?" His voice sends electricity down my spine. I don't turn around. I can't trust myself if I do. "Not running. Breathing." Elias steps beside me at the stone railing, leaving careful space between us. Always careful in public. Always afraid of watching eyes. "Your grandfather cornered me earlier," he says quietly. "Asked where I worked. Then spent ten minutes telling me about the bright future ahead for the Lancaster family. About legacy and bloodlines." My stomach twists. "He's living in the past." "Maybe." Elias's fingers tap against the stone, inches from mine. So close. Impossibly far. "But he controls the present." The truth of those words hangs between us, heavier than any fight we've ever had. Grandfather controls everything, the company, the family money, my life. "I've been working on a new project," Elias says, changing the subject. His voice softens, showing the passion that first drew me to him. "A community center in the East District. Something different from our usual corporate buildings. Something that matters." I turn to look at him then, unable to resist anymore. Elias's face in the moonlight steals my breath, his strong jaw, the curve of his lips, the tiny scar above his eyebrow from a childhood accident he told me about during long nights in each other's arms. "Show me," I say. Elias pulls out his phone and shows me his sketches. He moves closer, our shoulders almost touching as he holds up the screen. "The neighborhood needs something beautiful," he explains, his finger sliding across images of the building. "Not just useful. These people deserve beauty in their lives too." I study the design, but more than that, I study Elias's hands, strong hands that have moved across my skin with both gentleness and hunger. Hands that create beauty from nothing but thoughts and dreams. "It's amazing," I say, meaning it. Elias has always seen possibilities where others see only limits. "Your firm is lucky to have you." "My firm doesn't care about the social part," he says, his face hardening with determination. "They want profitable corporate projects, not community centers with small budgets." For a moment, we're just two professionals talking about architecture. Then Elias looks up, and our faces are inches apart. Too close for safety, too far for what we both want. "I miss you," he whispers, the words almost lost in the night air. I close my eyes against the pain those three words cause. "Don't." "Three days feels like forever," he continues, his voice barely audible. "Sneaking around, stealing moments. I'm tired of pretending we're nothing to each other." "We agreed," I say, opening my eyes to face the hurt in his gaze. "After what happened at Christmas..." "I know what we agreed." His voice turns harsh, then softens again. "I know. But I didn't think it would be so..." He stops, shakes his head. "Doesn't matter what I thought." I want to reach for him, to pull him close and breathe him in, to feel his heartbeat. Instead, I grip the railing tighter and look at the city lights. "Grandfather ordered me to dinner Sunday," I say, the words tasting like ash. "He said we have important things to discuss about my future." Elias goes still beside me. "And you'll go." It's not a question. We both know the answer. "What choice do I have?" My voice breaks. "He's all I have. The only family who..." I can't finish. My parents died when I was seven, leaving me to Grandfather's cold care. Care that came with conditions, with expectations, with the constant reminder that the Lancaster name must be protected at all costs. "You have choices, Adrian. You just won't make them." Elias steps back, making space between us again. "You always say 'someday.' Someday we won't have to hide. Someday you'll stand up to him. Someday you'll choose what you want instead of what he demands." The truth burns. "It's not that simple." "It is that simple. And that hard." Elias's voice holds no anger now, only tired giving up. "I love you, Adrian. I have for two years. But I can't keep living on somedays." I turn to him, fear clawing at my throat. "What are you saying?" "I'm saying I got an offer. From an international firm. In Chicago." Elias straightens, his face unreadable now. "I'm thinking about taking it." The world tilts under my feet. Chicago. Hundreds of miles away. A different company. A different life. A life without stolen moments in locked apartments, without secret messages, without the hope of someday. "You can't," I whisper, sounding weak even to myself. "Give me a reason to stay." His eyes hold a challenge, a final chance. Behind us, the terrace doors open. Laughter and music spill out, with voices calling my name. Reality breaking in again. "Mr. Lancaster!" Someone calls. "Your grandfather is looking for you." I watch the last hope fade from Elias's eyes. "That's what I thought," he says quietly. He fixes his tie, his face changing back to the mask he wears around others. "I should get back inside." "Elias," I reach for him, fingers brushing his arm before falling away. "Please. I need more time." "Time isn't the problem, Adrian. Courage is." Elias gives a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Congratulations in advance. On whatever your grandfather has planned for your future." He walks away, back straight, head high, passing the group now entering the terrace without looking back. I watch him go, feeling something breaking inside me, something precious I can't replace. The city stretches before me, lights blinking in the darkness like fallen stars. Beautiful, distant, cold. Like my life. Like the man I pretend to be. "Mr. Lancaster?" A voice pulls me back to reality. "Sir, your grandfather is asking for you. He wants to make an announcement." I turn, my face settling into its perfect mask. The perfect grandson. The worthy heir. The lie I live every day. "Of course," I say, straightening my shoulders and burying the pain deep where no one can see it. "We mustn't keep him waiting." As I walk back to the bright, noisy ballroom, I feel the weight of Elias's words crushing me. You have choices. You just won't make them. I pause at the doorway, looking back one last time at the empty terrace, at the space where Elias stood, at the moment of truth that slipped away like so many before. Then I step inside, back into my golden cage, the door swinging shut behind me.Chapter 10CELESTE POINT OF VIEWI wake to the sound of a shower running, morning light barely filtering through heavy curtains. Three forty-three, the bedside clock glows in neon green. Adrian has come home, finally. I lie still, listening to water rushing through pipes, trying to piece together a puzzle that keeps changing shape.Three nights this week he hasn't returned until dawn. Business emergencies, he's explained. Important client meetings. Strategy sessions that couldn't wait for morning.I believe him, mostly. The dark circles under his eyes testify to sleepless nights. The constant calls from the office confirm his busy schedule. But something feels wrong. Something gnaws at my gut like hunger, keeps me awake counting the hours until he comes home.The water stops. I close my eyes, pretending to sleep. I've learned that Adrian speaks more freely when he thinks I can't hear, when he mutters to himself while dressing or makes late-night calls he thinks are private.The bathro
Chapter 9ANDRIAN POINT OF VIEW The Lancaster dining room stretches long and dark, family portraits watching from wood-paneled walls like silent judges. I sit at one end of the mahogany table, Grandfather at the other, twenty feet of polished wood and family history between us. The weekly Sunday dinner ritual, unavoidable as death in the Lancaster world."The board is asking questions," Grandfather says, cutting into his steak with surgical precision. "About the future. About succession plans."I sip my wine, buying seconds before responding. My heart already knows where this is heading. "I've been CEO for less than two years. Isn't talk of succession a bit early?""Not succession for your position." His knife scrapes against fine china like nails on a chalkboard. "Succession for the family line. For the Lancaster name."The air thickens around me. I set down my glass carefully, keeping my face blank despite the storm building inside me. My stomach drops like I'm falling off a cliff.
Chapter 8WRITER POINT OF VIEWMarcus Dane's desk overflowed with coffee cups and documents. The newsroom bustled around him, but his attention remained fixed on an email from an anonymous sender.*The perfect Lancaster marriage is a sham. Adrian Lancaster's heart belongs to Elias Voss. Follow the money. Follow the meetings. Find the truth the Lancasters want hidden.*Short. Direct. Potentially explosive.The Lancasters were untouchable royalty, old money, powerful connections, spotless reputation. Their recent merger with the Moreau family had made headlines for weeks.If this tip was legitimate...Marcus typed "Elias Voss" into a search window. Not a celebrity, just professional mentions. Architectural awards. A recent move to Chicago. An architect with no obvious connection to Adrian Lancaster or the family business.Digging deeper, Marcus discovered Voss had returned to the city three days ago, a brief mention in an industry newsletter about consulting on a downtown project. The t
Chapter 7CELESTE POINT OF VIEWMorning light streams through the bedroom windows as I wake up alone, again. My hand reaches across the empty space beside me, the sheets cold. Adrian didn't come home last night. The third time this month.I check my phone. No new messages since the texts I sent at midnight. The dinner I made sits untouched downstairs, candles burned down to nothing, wine put away.The shower starts in the bathroom. So he's home now. I pull my knees to my chest, waiting.When Adrian comes out with a towel around his waist, he jumps slightly when he sees me awake."Good morning," he says, voice carefully flat. "I didn't want to wake you.""You didn't come home." I keep my voice steady, watching his face.He moves to his dressing room, turning away from me. "The Tokyo deal fell through. Everything we'd been building for months, gone because someone leaked information. I was stuck in emergency meetings all night."His back is to me as he picks out clothes. I study the tig
Chapter 6ADRIAN POINT OF VIEWRain pounds my windshield as I drive through the darkness. My wipers can barely keep up. The country road twists ahead, no streetlights, just my headlights cutting through the black.My phone rings through the car speakers. Celeste's name flashes on the dashboard. The third call in an hour. I press ignore, guilt crushing my chest. Another lie to explain tomorrow. Another evening meeting that ran long.How many excuses have I given her in our month of marriage? Too many to count.The GPS tells me to turn onto an even smaller road, unmarked, dirt, hidden between thick trees. At the end of the path sits a small cabin, warm light glowing from its windows. I park beside the only other car a rental with out-of-state plates.For five minutes, I just sit, listening to rain drum on the roof. Five minutes to remember who I really am. Five minutes to shed the mask I've worn all day, devoted husband, obedient grandson, worthy heir.When I finally step out, the rain
Chapter 5CELESTE POINT OF VIEWI stand at the bedroom window watching morning sunlight spill across perfect gardens, but all I see is my reflection in the glass, a ghost woman in a house that doesn't belong to her.Two weeks. Two weeks since I became Mrs. Adrian Lancaster. Two weeks of Paris cafés where my husband ordered for me without asking what I wanted. Two weeks of museum visits where he walked three steps ahead, checking his phone while I pretended to admire art. Two weeks of sleeping next to a stranger who touches me like I'm made of porcelain and might break.Or maybe like I'm something distasteful he has to endure.Behind me, Adrian sleeps soundly, one arm thrown above his head. He looks different when he's not awake, younger, softer. For these few minutes each morning, I can almost pretend we're a real married couple. That he chose me. That this ring on my finger means something more than a signature on a contract.Then he wakes up, and the walls go back up.I wrap my silk
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.
Komen