LOGINElena found out her husband was cheating—not from him, but from the headlines. The man didn't even have the decency to keep it in his pants or out of the press. He made her a public joke, expecting her to just sit there and take it. Bad move. Elena didn’t cry. She got busy. She put his mistress in a jumpsuit, took every dime of his money, and handed him the divorce papers with a smile. She was done. Like, officially done with men and their drama. But then, something weird happened. The second she stopped caring, everyone else started obsessing. Now, she’s literally the most wanted woman in the city. We’re talking billionaire heirs, hot surgeons, mysterious bad boys, and even international superstars—all of them tripping over themselves to get her attention. Some have been crushing on her for years, while others are just now realizing what they missed out on. They’re all begging for a chance, but Elena’s not playing the supportive wife anymore. She’s the one holding the remote now, and she’s picky as hell.
View MoreElena’s POVI struggled, but Damon was a solid wall of muscle. Julian was just upstairs—one floor between us and a total disaster. If he walked down now and caught us like this, my entire plan would go up in flames before I even made my first move.Damon, of course, was loving every second of my panic. That smug, dark grin never left his face."What if he sees us? Wouldn't that be easier?" he murmured. "Then you’d finally have to sign those damn divorce papers.""Damon, stop it!" I hissed, trying to shove him off with everything I had."Hmm?"He didn't move an inch. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a hot, lingering kiss right against my earlobe. A violent shiver ripped through me. This man had figured out exactly where my buttons were in a single night, and he was clearly planning to push every last one of them.My face was burning, a dull heat prickling the tips of my ears. I was caught somewhere between pure rage and a weird kind of vulnerability I absolutely hated. His fingers b
Elena’s POVWhen I got back to the villa, Julian was still missing in action.I’d just stepped out of the shower when my mother-in-law, Rose, appeared in the living room, nursing a glass of water like she owned the place.“What time is it? Why isn't breakfast on the table yet?”I didn't even give her a glance. I walked straight into the kitchen and made coffee. Just for one. When I walked back out, she was scowling.“Where’s Julian? Is he still in bed?”“He went out last night,” I said, taking a slow sip. “Never came back.”Rose looked me up and down, her lip curling in pure disgust.“You can't even keep your own husband at home. You’re pathetic, Elena.”She shot a nasty look at my bowl of plain oatmeal.“And you’re eating that? No wonder you’re so dull. I’m heading out. My friends are waiting for brunch. I cleaned everyone out at poker yesterday, and I’m planning on doing it again today.”I sat there alone after she left. The porridge was bland, yeah. But after a night like last nigh
Elena’s POVI stood outside the club, staring up at that glowing window one last time. Without a flicker of doubt, I pulled out my phone and dialed the police.“Hi, I’d like to report some illegal activity at the Private Club… Yeah, third floor. It’s a prostitution sting waiting to happen.”Damon watched me, a predator’s grin spreading across his face.“It’s done,” he said, checking his own screen. “The photos will hit her university’s forum in an hour. By tomorrow morning, the whole campus will know exactly how Candy’s been paying her tuition.”I didn’t say anything. I just watched the streetlights.“Elena,” Damon’s voice dropped, “why did you ask me to keep Julian’s name out of the police report? You still catching feelings for that loser?”“Don’t be ridiculous,” I snapped. “His company is going public soon. If he goes down now, my shares are worth zero. I’m not protecting my husband, Damon. I’m protecting my bank account.”He nodded, looking more than satisfied with that answer. Wh
Elena’s POVI cleared the chat. No paper trail, no drama.But a second later, a message from an unlisted number flashed across my screen. Damon. Again.“Just got that loser off your back. What’s in it for me?”I didn't bite. I put the phone down, but he wasn't done.“Fine. I get it. I don’t do charity. Guess I’ll just send him back home to you then.”I let out a frustrated sigh and finally gave in. “What do you want, Damon?”“I’m trashed. Come get me.”“Fine. But on one condition.”“Anything you want, sweetheart.”The address was a high-end private club downtown. The kind of place where billionaires go to hide their worst impulses.Damon’s shadow, Marcus, was already waiting for me at the curb. He didn't say much, just nodded and led me inside.“He’s upstairs,” Marcus said, opening the door to a private suite before disappearing.Damon was sprawled on a leather sofa, looking like a god and a disaster all at once. His tie was loose, his eyes were a little glassy from the drink, and he






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