LOGINShe was the temptation they prayed against—and the salvation they didn’t see coming. The story centers on a woman who’s done playing nice. After a betrayal that shattered everything she thought she knew—marriage, motherhood, self-worth—she sheds her shame, steps into her desire, and discovers power in places she was once told were sinful. Her past doesn’t define her. Her pleasure doesn’t shame her. And she’s not asking for permission anymore.
View MoreCallum lay awake in the dark, the ceiling above him a cold, blank canvas. The house breathed softly around him—faint creaks, the hum of the furnace, the occasional sigh of wind scraping along the eaves. But his mind was anything but still.He thought about Eden.About the way she had looked last night, curled on the couch, cardigan wrapped tight around her like armor. About the tremor in her voice when she pointed out the crow’s feather on the porch. About the message scrawled in the condensation on her car window. See you soon.That wasn’t just a threat. It was a promise.He pushed the blankets off, swung his legs to the floor, and stood. Outside, the world was silent, but his gut tightened as he stepped into the kitchen and flicked on the light. The glow illuminated a stack of papers Eden had left on the table — court documents, maps, and a worn folder with tabs labeled in Eden’s neat handwriting.He ran his fingers over the edge of the folder, but his thoughts were already outside,
The sound of rain woke her.Not the soft kind that lulled you back to sleep — this was sharp, needling against the windows, the gutters rattling with the rush. A branch scraped somewhere near the bedroom, an insistent fingernail dragging down the siding.Eden lay still, holding her breath. Sometimes she swore she could hear more than the weather — little changes in the air, like someone had stepped too close. She listened harder until her own heartbeat filled her ears.Beside her, the space was empty; Callum had stayed downstairs again. She rolled out of bed, pulling a sweatshirt over her tank top, bare feet whispering against the hall rug.The glow from the kitchen spilled into the hallway. Callum was at the table, laptop open, a legal pad covered in his tight handwriting. His shoulders hunched forward, his focus absolute.“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked.“Didn’t want to.” His voice was rough from hours awake. He gestured toward the papers. “Security quotes. Cameras. Motion lights.”She
The house wouldn’t sleep.It breathed and creaked the way all old houses do, but tonight every sound felt sharper, like it was cutting through the dark to find her. The wind scraped along the siding, sighed through the eaves, and made the loose screen on the back porch door thrum like a heartbeat.Eden sat on the couch, cardigan pulled tight, one knee tucked under her. Callum was across from her in the armchair, still in jeans and boots, as if undressing for bed meant letting his guard down. His head was tipped back, eyes closed, but she knew he wasn’t asleep.Upstairs, a soft cough. Katie Faith.Eden pushed herself up and padded down the hall, careful to avoid the board that groaned when stepped on. She found Katie tangled in her blankets, hair sticking to her cheek. Eden smoothed it back and kissed her warm forehead. The little girl stirred but didn’t wake.“Go back to sleep, baby,” Eden whispered. She stayed there a moment longer, hand resting on that small rise and fall, grounding
The wind clawed at the house, rattling loose shingles and whispering through the cracks like it carried secrets.Eden sat at the kitchen table, court papers and maps spread before her like a battle plan. A half-full mug of coffee sat cooling by her elbow, untouched. The house wasn’t silent—it breathed, creaked, whispered—but every sound felt like a question she didn’t have an answer for.She stared at the manila folder in front of her. Not the one from the lawyer—no. This one was older. Worn edges. Tabs labeled in her neat, obsessive handwriting.It still smelled faintly of candle wax and old hymnals.August.She could see herself as she was then—his cologne on her pillow, his voicemail in her ear, and the heat of a Tennessee summer pressing against the windows like it wanted to listen in.“You’re such a good girl for me, baby. I wish she touched me like you do.”The words hadn’t detonated that day. They’d settled—slow and smoky—until her ribs felt like cinders and her stomach like so












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.