LOGINš ššThis book contains explicit sexual content and is intended for mature readers only. I traded my freedom for a last name. Now, I wear silence like perfume and lies like lipstick. To the world, Iām the elegant wife of Mattio ā wealthy, powerful, untouchable. Behind closed doors, Iām his possession. A woman trapped in a gilded cage, drowning in a marriage built on control. Then came him. Maxwell. A stranger who touched me like I mattered ā just once. A stolen night that made me feel alive again. But my brief escape shatters when I walk downstairs⦠and see him smiling in my living room. Heās not a stranger anymore. Heās Mattioās long-lost stepbrother. Now Iām caught between the man who owns me⦠And the man who awakened everything I thought Iād lost. Secrets unravel. Desires ignite. And one wrong move could ruin us all. How do you forget the one man who made you feel human againāwhen heās now part of your family?
View MoreCHAPTER 27 the gym is gone Lianaās POVThe USB drive had given me answers.But answers without context were just more questions wearing different clothes.I knew what Matteo had done. I knew the shape of it now the debt, the transfer, the correspondence that referred to me as the subject like I was a line item in a budget. I knew my marriage had been a transaction completing itself and that I had walked into it believing it was a choice.What I didnāt know was what Maxwell had intended to do with any of it.And that gap that specific gap between what I knew and what I didnāt was where everything lived. Where the anger lived. Where the something-that-wasnāt-quite-hope-but-wasnāt-quite-dead-yet lived.I needed more.I started small.Careful. Methodical. The way you move when youāre searching inside a house that watches you.I had a name the holding company that had purchased the gym. The attendant had been tight lipped but the sale of a business left records. Public records. The kind
Lianaās POVThe USB drive had given me answers.But answers without context were just more questions wearing different clothes.I knew what Matteo had done. I knew the shape of it now the debt, the transfer, the correspondence that referred to me as the subject like I was a line item in a budget. I knew my marriage had been a transaction completing itself and that I had walked into it believing it was a choice.What I didnāt know was what Maxwell had intended to do with any of it.And that gap that specific gap between what I knew and what I didnāt was where everything lived. Where the anger lived. Where the something-that-wasnāt-quite-hope-but-wasnāt-quite-dead-yet lived.I needed more.I started small.Careful. Methodical. The way you move when youāre searching inside a house that watches you.I had a name the holding company that had purchased the gym. The attendant had been tight lipped but the sale of a business left records. Public records. The kind accessible to anyone who kn
Lianaās POVThe USB drive sat on my nightstand for two days before I touched it again.Not because I forgot it was there.Because I was afraid of what it contained.Or worse, afraid of what it didnāt.On the third morning I woke up before five, lay in the grey dark staring at it, and decided that fear was a luxury I was done affording.I took my laptop to the bathroom. Locked the door. Sat on the cold tile floor with my back against the tub the same position I had found myself in more times than I could count in this house, the floor being the only place that ever felt honest and pushed the drive in.One folder.Titled with a date from eight months ago.I opened it.It took me a long time to understand what I was reading.Not because the language was complicated, it wasn't. Whoever had compiled this had been thorough and precise. Dates. Names. Transaction records. Correspondence. A paper trail laid out with the patience of someone who had been building toward something specific.I r
Lianaās POVThree days passed.Then four.Then a week.And somewhere in that week I made a decision ā not dramatic, not announced, just a quiet internal shift ā that I was not going to fall apart over a man who had packed his bags before I woke up.I was not going to be that woman.I had already been too many versions of broken in this house. I was not adding Maxwell Reyes to the list of men who had reduced me.So I got up every morning.I ate.I moved through the house with the practiced composure of someone who had been performing fine for years and could do it for a few more weeks without breaking.I was fine.I was absolutely fine.The visitor arrived on a Tuesday.I heard him before I saw him ā a heavy voice in the hallway below, the particular boom of a man who assumed every room wanted to hear him. Matteoās response was warmer than usual which meant this was someone who mattered in whatever world Matteo actually inhabited.I came downstairs composed. Dressed appropriately. The
Maxwell povAm beIng careless agaIn. I dIdnāt mean to talk to her so rude, It just slipped out. Truth is, I wasnāt expectIng to see her so soon, not here, not like this.While I was outsIde wIth Matteo, Iād mIstakenly spilled my drInk on myself. Embarrassing enough, but worse, It left me stIcky and
āMadam, Itās Steph.āThe voIce was muffled through the door at fIrst, soft but persIstent.āPlease⦠should we go on preparIng the food, or⦠or can you do it yourself?āI blinked rapidly, draggIng myself out of the fog of my own thoughts. Steph. My maId. She and Maria are The only familiar, steady p
Liana ā POVāOh my Godā¦āThe words broke from my mouth, brIttle and tremblIng. The sound startled even me, sharp In the thIck, suffocatIng aIr. For a moment, I dIdnāt recognIze my own voIce.They were gone.Or at least, out of the room.But It dIdnāt feel empty. The aIr stIll crackled, charged, as
(Present day). Liana pov⦠āLiana.ā Before I could fully open my eyes, he was already in the room. No greeting. No explanation. Just⦠that box. Sitting on the dresser. The one he kept locked, except for nights like this. My stomach twisted. āNo,ā I whispered, sitting up. Dread pooled fast in
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