LOGINVivian’s world collapses when her best friend, Zara, steals her fashion designs and her boyfriend, Leo. Fired from her dream job and left with nothing, she stumbles upon an abandoned stone statue on a lonely highway. She drags it home, cries her heart out, and jokingly wishes it were her husband. Miraculously, the statue awakens into Stan, a handsome, powerful being from an ancient era. With Stan by her side, Vivian reclaims her confidence. Stan uses a touch of magic and fierce devotion to protect her from Zara’s continued sabotage and public humiliation. When a video of Stan saving Vivian from a runaway truck goes viral, the duo captures the public’s imagination. Vivian uses the momentum to launch a new collection, taking the fashion world by storm and building her own empire from scratch. As they work together, their bond deepens into a profound love. But their newfound joy is cut short. Stan reveals he is an ancient prince suffering under an unbroken curse—and he has begun turning back into stone. Refusing to lose him, Vivian embarks on a grueling trek up a frozen, sacred mountain to find the cure. Battling freezing winds and sheer exhaustion, she carries his stiffening form to the summit. As time runs out and Stan fully hardens into stone, Vivian's tears of true love and selfless sacrifice awaken ancient forces, breaking the curse permanently. Returned to the city, Vivian exposes Zara's theft, leaving her former friend ruined while Leo is left in regret. Free from their past and their enemies, Vivian becomes a renowned fashion mogul with Stan permanently by her side, proving that love can shatter even the heaviest fate.
View MoreVivian's POVI could feel the cold radiating off him before my fingers even grazed his sleeve.It was a deep, subterranean chill—the kind that belonged in dark caverns or ancient burial vaults, not in my sunlit third-floor design studio. Stan stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring down at the city traffic fifteen stories below. His tall, broad frame was silhouetted against the amber glow of the setting sun, but there was no warmth in him. Not anymore."Let me see it, Stan," I whispered, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to keep it steady.He didn't move. His jaw remained set in that carved, unforgiving line I had come to know so well. "It is nothing, Vivian.""Don't lie to me." I stepped closer, the soft carpet muffling my footsteps until I was standing right beside him. The scent of pine and crushed earth hovered around him, mixed with the faint, terrifying smell of ozone and dry dust. "You used it again last night, didn't you? When those corporate thugs tried to set
Vivian's POVThe white leather contract sat between us on the glass coffee table like a fresh grave.It was bound in custom silver foil, crisp and unblemished, gleaming under the dim amber light of my tiny, rented apartment. Outside, the rain beat a relentless, hollow rhythm against the windowpanes, blurring the city lights into smears of yellow and red.Leo sat across from me on my worn fabric sofa, looking completely out of place in his tailored three-piece charcoal suit. He didn't look like a man who had dropped unannounced into a drowning woman's living room at ten o'clock on a Tuesday night. He looked like an angel of mercy who knew exactly how much his wings were worth.He smelled of rain, cedarwood, and the obscenely expensive cologne I used to buy him when we still shared a bed and a dream."Read page four," Leo said softly. His voice was as smooth as raw silk, carrying that quiet, intoxicating authority that had swept me off my feet five years ago. "The clause is entirely in
Vivian's POVThe silence in my apartment wasn't peaceful; it was thick, heavy, and tasted like stale rain.I sat on the edge of the worn sofa, staring at the blurred yellow streetlights bleeding through the fogged windowpane. Every surface in the room was covered in stacked boxes, muted fabric swatches, and legal letters with red headers that I couldn't bear to read again. Forty-eight hours ago, my name was on the cover of every major style magazine in the city. Tonight, I was a disgraced designer, disgraced by a public campaign so thorough that even my oldest friends wouldn't return my texts.In the shadows near the balcony door stood Stan.To anyone walking past the window, he looked like nothing more than an extraordinary piece of art—an ancient, life-sized marble statue of an ancient warrior, carved with muscle so precise and a face so arresting it felt like a holy relic stolen from a museum. But I could feel the faint, steady pulse of magic radiating off his stone skin. I could f
Vivian's POVMy palms were so slick with cold sweat that the heavy brass shears nearly slipped from my grip.I set them down on the oak cutting table with a muffled clatter, breathing in through my nose until my chest ached. The studio smelled of unbleached linen, steam from the industrial press, and the stale, copper tang of fear."Ten seconds, Vivian," Chloe whispered, her hand hovering over the iron deadbolt of the front studio doors. Her knuckles were bone-white, her eyes wide and bloodshot. "The moment I open this door, they’re going to shove cameras straight into your face. There are at least forty journalists out there on the landing. Channel 5 is broadcasting live.""Let them," I said, though my voice sounded paper-thin to my own ears.I looked back over my shoulder one last time. There were no podiums. No microphoned stands. No glossy PR banners or carefully scrubbed statements drafted by corporate lawyers.Instead, my entire workspace lay completely exposed.The heavy cuttin












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