Se connecterSHE WAS PUSHED TO HER DEATH BY THE MAN SHE LOVED. NOW, SHE’S BACK—AND SHE’S MARRYING HIS BIGGEST ENEMY. Vespera Thorne spent five years building her husband’s empire, only to be betrayed and murdered by him for her stepsister. But fate gives her a second chance. Reborn on the morning of her engagement, Vespera makes a ruthless choice: she walks away from her golden-boy fiancé—and proposes a contract marriage to Cyprian Hale, the city’s most feared and filthy-rich outcast. Cyprian is ruthless, possessive, and dangerously obsessed with her. He agrees to her deal, but he wants more than just revenge. He wants her. Together, they embark on a war of ruin—destroying her ex’s empire piece by piece, slapping every face that ever looked down on her, and uncovering a royal secret that changes everything. But as lines blur and passions ignite, Vespera must choose: Is she still the vengeful ghost of her past? Or has she finally found a love worth living for?
Voir plusCandy Kane was fretting as she awakened that morning in early October. She was scheduled to meet downtown with a couple of attorneys representing her employer, Aerospace Technologies, Inc., along with a mediator. This was the result of the sexual harassment suit she had filed against them. The fact was there was nothing to the suit; the reality was that the “sexual harassment” had been in the form of the lack of same. Candy thought she had just been ignored.
And the reality was that she had been. On the other hand, she was honest enough with herself to admit — privately — that ignoring her was the best possible behavior on the part of her coworkers: She was as prickly as a porcupine. This, in turn, largely resulted from the fact that she hated herself and for as long as she could remember had felt she was ugly as sin. The reality was that — probably as a result of an accident when she was very young — her mouth and jaw were horribly misshapen with her teeth having grown in at odd angles. She even had two pairs of teeth with one behind the other. At a time when schools were featuring self-esteem, Candy’s was in very large negative numbers.Furthermore, she considered herself to be flat as a board. The reality was that she had a gorgeous figure, albeit with a pair of small breasts. Although they were small — sort of a B-minus cup — they were perfectly shaped with lovely little nipples that sat on areolae scarcely larger than the nipples themselves. Because she never wore a bra — never feeling the need for one — she had always totally misinterpreted the looks in her direction. She thought the men were laughing at her when in fact they were admiring her lovely body with its gorgeous little ass. At five feet nine, she was a tall girl with much of her height in a pair of perfect long legs. But Candy never realized that.Then there was her name itself. She always thought it was the perfect name for a stripper — Candy Kane — and had even thought about stripping. Two things stopped her cold: her face, distorted by her misshapen jaw, and a figure with all the curves — she thought — of a straight stick. Nonetheless, she had investigated the possibility of silicone implants, and had actually gone to see a plastic surgeon who did such work. She was immediately turned off, though, when his receptionist — one of his earlier patients — proudly stripped off her blouse to reveal a pair of size double-D melons that, in Candy’s opinion, looked utterly ridiculous on her slender frame. While reaching that conclusion, it never occurred to Candy that her figure was far better than the girl’s. Her shoulders were broader, her buns were far nicer, and her legs were utterly magnificent. The receptionist’s legs were okay, but most of her height — five feet three — was in her torso; proportionately, her legs were quite short.The other thing that affected Candy was the fact that she was a mechanical engineer and a very good one. In her more objective moments she realized that it was only her engineering talent that kept her employed. I would have fired my ass within the first thirty days, she admitted to herself.Finally, there was her relationship with her parents who were now both dead. It started, she realized, with her name: She hated it and always had. Candace Kane wasn’t so bad, she admitted, but from the very beginning she had been Candy, and she hated it. Perhaps because of her strained relations with her parents things were worse than they needed to be; she was an only child born to her parents late in their lives: her mother had been 48 and her father had been 56 when she was born.It was over parental objections that she had decided to become an engineer. Moreover, she realized that the reason for her becoming an engineer was probably because they objected. At any rate, she had gone to Cal Tech where she received her bachelor’s and master’s degrees, as well as completing all the course work for her doctorate. In fact, she had recently submitted her just-completed dissertation based on her own machine design work.Now at age 27 she was at a bit of a loss. In spite of its name, Aerospace Technologies wasn’t an aerospace company at all. Located in Huntington Beach on the Pacific coast south of Los Angeles, it was a machine tool company. The company had been founded by a couple of engineers from McDonnell-Douglas who had developed some computer-controlled machine tools with aerospace applications. When McDonnell-Douglas wasn’t interested in pursuing their ideas, they left and founded their own company. In the intervening years, it had grown and prospered, but Candy felt it could have and should have been doing far better than it was.The Hale Fortress. The Private Library.Sunday. 11:00 PM.The library was the quietest room in the Fortress. It smelled of old paper, leather binding, and the faint, lingering scent of the vanilla tea Vespera had finished an hour ago.Outside, a gentle rain tapped against the bulletproof glass of the floor-to-ceiling windows. It wasn't the violent storm of the past, nor the chaotic dimensional rifts of the recent week. It was just rain. Cleansing. rhythmic. Peaceful.Vespera Hale walked along the mahogany shelves, trailing her fingers over the spines of the books.Philosophy. Strategy. History.She stopped.On a shelf at eye level, nestled between The Art of War and a first edition of The Count of Monte Cristo, was a book she didn't recognize.It had no dust jacket. The binding was matte black, textured like volcanic rock. The lettering on the spine was silver, sharp and angular.SAVAGE REBORN.Vespera frowned. She knew every book in this library. She had curated it herself.She pulle
The Hale Fortress. The Gardens.Wednesday. 10:00 PM.The air smelled of ozone, sulfur, and high-quality wagyu beef.The inter-dimensional raid was over. The adrenaline was fading. Now, the Council of Vesperas and the Council of Cyprians were doing something they rarely did: relaxing.In the center of the patio, Fantasy Cyprian (The Shadow Knight) was using his flaming greatsword to light the charcoal grill."A bit more to the left," Modern Cyprian instructed, holding a pair of tongs.WOOSH.A gout of magical fire ignited the coals instantly."Efficient," Modern Cyprian nodded.Around the garden, the variants mingled under the soft glow of the string lights. It was a surreal cocktail party at the end of the universe.Modern Vespera sat on a stone bench next to Fantasy Vespera. They were both holding glasses of wine—Modern had a vintage Merlot, Fantasy had a goblet of mead she had conjured."So," Modern Vespera said, looking at her armored counterpart. "You have to go back to the mud an
Dimension X-9. The Golden Palace. The Throne Room.Local Time: The Age of the Sun.Emperor Lysander sat on a throne made of melted swords and pure ego.He wore a golden toga and a laurel wreath made of diamonds. In this timeline, he had found the Orb of Control early. He had enslaved the populace, crushed the resistance, and turned the world into a shrine to his own magnificence.At the foot of the dais, a woman in rags scrubbed the marble floor.She had matted hair and bruises on her arms. She kept her head down, terrified to look up.Slave Vespera."Missed a spot," Emperor Lysander sneered. He kicked over a goblet of wine, watching the red liquid splash onto her clean floor. "Clean it up. And be grateful I let you live to serve me."Slave Vespera trembled. "Yes, Master.""I am a God!" Lysander shouted to the empty room, spreading his arms. "No one can stop me! Not the rebels! Not the Council! I own time itself!"BOOM.The eastern wall of the palace—a solid slab of gold-reinforced co
The Hale Fortress. The Library.Wednesday. 8:45 PM.If the Dining Room was a chaotic storm of conflicting egos and pizza grease, the Library was the eye of the hurricane.It was a sanctuary of dark leather, mahogany, and silence.Five figures occupied the room. They weren't speaking. They weren't arguing. They were simply... existing.Modern Cyprian Hale sat in his high-backed wing chair near the fireplace, swirling a glass of 50-year-old single malt. He looked weary but content.Across from him, sitting on a sturdy oak bench, was Fantasy Cyprian (The Shadow Knight). He was still wearing full plate armor, which groaned softly every time he breathed. He had a massive greatsword across his lap and was rhythmically running a whetstone along the edge.Shhhk. Shhhk. Shhhk.Leaning against the mantelpiece was Mafia Cyprian (The Enforcer). He wore a fedora tilted low over his eyes and a pinstripe suit that strained against his shoulders. He was smoking a thick cigar, blowing perfect smoke ri
[VIDEO START][TIME CODE: 09:00 AM][LOCATION: THE HALE FORTRESS - EXTERIOR GATES]The camera frame is shaky. It zooms in on the massive, fifteen-foot steel walls topped with sensors and what looks suspiciously like automated turret mounts (currently deactivated).INTERVIEWER (Off-Camera): "We are
St. Jude’s Penitentiary. The Palliative Care Ward.Noon.The hallway smelled of industrial cleaner and dying men.Vespera Hale walked down the corridor. Her heels clicked rhythmically on the linoleum—click, click, click—a sound too sharp, too alive for this place.She wore a cream-colored coat over
The Hale Casino & Lounge.Midnight.The jazz band was playing something slow and mournful, the saxophone weeping over the low hum of conversation.Smoke hung in the air like grey silk. It caught the light of the crystal chandeliers, creating a haze that made everyone look beautiful and dangerous.V
The Hale Fortress. The Dining Room.Friday Night.The bottle of Château Margaux was a 1982 vintage. It was older than their marriage. It was older than their empire.Cyprian Hale stood at the head of the long obsidian table. He was sixty years old. His hair was silver at the temples, but his should






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