登入What happens when the man you married isn't the man who truly sees you? Cassie Everly thought she had everything she ever wanted. A powerful husband. A prestigious family name. A future most women could only dream of. The reality is far less perfect. For five years, David Jeffson has put business before marriage, leaving Cassie alone in a mansion that feels more like a prison than a home. Every promise is postponed. Every anniversary forgotten. Every attempt to save their relationship met with another excuse. Then Mark Jeffson comes home. David's twin brother. The black sheep of the family. The man who built his own empire while the Jeffsons handed everything to David. The man who looks at Cassie as though she's the only person in the room. Mark was never supposed to be part of her story. But the more her marriage falls apart, the harder it becomes to ignore the one man who always seems to be there when she needs him. The one man who remembers every detail her husband forgets. The one man who makes her question whether she chose the wrong brother all those years ago. As family secrets unravel and a bitter battle for the Jeffson empire begins, Cassie finds herself trapped between loyalty and desire, duty and happiness. Because loving her husband's twin could destroy everything. But walking away from him might destroy her even more.
查看更多Mark. The rain started just as we cleared the warehouse district, a cold, needle-sharp downpour that washed the grease from my forearms and slicked the asphalt lane into a black mirror.I led the pack, my boots locked hard against the metal pegs of my chopper, the headlights of five secondary transport vans cutting through the torrential sheets behind my back. The younger riders—Hammer, Roach, and eight full-patched Vandals—were trailing my exhaust pipes like a silent wall of iron. We had an hour before the city precinct’s tactical sweep hit the eastern garages, and I needed to ground our network servers at the docks before the badges could weld the net shut. We turned sharply down the narrow, dark avenue behind the old rail yards, our tires screeching against the wet concrete.Suddenly, a blinding flash of high-beam high-beams exploded from the intersection ahead, slicing straight through the thick river fog. Three heavy custom choppers rammed out from the shadow of an abandoned s
Cassie. The air inside the storage loft was thick with the sharp smell of raw canvas and old machine grease, a heavy dust settling over the wooden floorboards every time the custom engines rumbled down in the lower bay.I stood by the rough timber sawhorse, my fingers tightly gripping a long pair of industrial metal shears as I lined up the first layout cut across a dark slate-grey tarp. The high-society fabrics from the Jeffson pass were completely gone, and the dead studio downtown was nothing but a memory under a police block. But I refused to sit idle in a corner whimpering while the Iron Vandals tore themselves apart around the Round Table upstairs. My father had chosen his badge, and Mark had chosen his blade, but I was going to choose my own hands. If the golden cage was turning into a city-wide manhunt, I was going to build my own armor right here in the middle of their grease."Hold the edge of this canvas down, Mom," I said, my voice surprisingly steady despite the rapid,
Mark. The raw roar of the custom chopper finally died as I skidded the machine into the rear loading bay of the Sanctuary.The air inside the concrete walls was heavy, thick with the smell of wet gravel, exhaust smoke, and stale tobacco. I didn't help Cassie off the seat. I just kicked the stand down and stood up, my leather cut creaking against my chest as I unzipped the front to let the cool morning mist hit my bare skin. My split knuckles were still throbbing with a dull, burning pain from the beating I’d given my brother, but right now, the internal lines of this compound were a much bigger problem."Stay behind me, Cassie," I muttered, my voice a flat vibration as I caught sight of Hammer standing by the iron stairs.She didn't answer. She just held that old wooden drafting kit tight against her ribs, her grey sweater damp, her chin up as she followed my heavy boots up the timber steps. The main bay downstairs was dead silent, but the moment we pushed the heavy double doors of t
Cassie. The narrow service stairs of the Sanctuary led down into a small, dark loading lane behind the main bays. The cold morning air hit my face, breaking through the suffocating cloud of tobacco smoke that had filled the upper chapel."Get your helmet on," Mark muttered, his voice a flat, low vibration as he manually checked the fuel line on his heavy black chopper. His face was a completely frozen mask of predatory focus, his knuckles still raw and split from the beating he’d handed David at the mansion. He hadn't said a single word about the knife he’d just driven into Clay’s Round Table, but the lethal tension vibrating off his leather cut told me everything I needed to know. The internal lines of his club were cracking because of me."We need to check on my mother, Mark," I said, my fingers tightly curling around my old wooden drafting kit as I stood by the rear tire. "If David’s corporate spotters are tracking the hospital precinct, she isn't safe at that clinic. We have to












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