Monica Banks had it all—beauty, fame, and a rising career as one of the industry's top lingerie models. Her distinctive curves and magnetic presence made her a favorite on every runway and billboard. But at the peak of her success, she gave it all up. Not for herself, but for her father—agreeing to marry Liam McKenzie, a cold and calculating business tycoon, in exchange for a crucial deal that would save her family’s company. The McKenzie family loathed her profession. To them, modeling lingerie was shameful. They gave her a choice: her career or the marriage. Monica chose Liam, foolishly hoping her sacrifice would earn his love. She terminated her contract—despite her agency’s desperate pleas—and stepped away from everything she had built. For three long years, she played the role of the perfect wife and obedient daughter-in-law. And when Liam finally touched her like a husband should, she believed—naively—that she had finally won a place in his heart. That illusion shattered when she returned home early and found him in their bed with another woman. Her sister. Brie Banks. Liam didn’t deny it. He didn’t even apologize. Instead, he coldly revealed that their marriage was nothing more than a favor to his mother. Broken. Betrayed. Humiliated. But Monica had enough . When Spencer McKenzie—Liam’s estranged half-brother, the black sheep of the family blamed for a fire that killed their grandfather—returned to the country, he made her an offer. One that promised revenge. A scandalous one, She accepted. --- “Are you insane, Spencer? You’re stirring up a scandal with my wife!” Liam’s voice thundered through the room, his eyes blazing. His lips twitch"No you stay away from her, she's mine now."
View MoreMonica clutched the sheets tightly as Liam opened the cabinet. She held her breath, afraid to move, afraid to break the moment.
It had been three years. Three silent, distant years—and now, finally, he had touched her. She watched him as he searched through the cabinet, her eyes tracing the lines of his bare back. His body still made her breath catch. He shut the cabinet and turned. Their eyes met. Her heart skipped. Monica froze when she saw the small foil packet in his hand. A condom. Her heart thudded. They were married. Why would he need that? Doesn’t he want to have a child with me? The thought stung. She laid there, quiet, holding the sheets tighter around her. Why does this feel like a hookup? she wondered. Why not like a wife? All these thoughts raced through her head as she watched Liam tear the packet open, calm and focused, like it was just another routine. Was this even love-making, or just sex? It wasn’t how she had pictured their first time. But as Liam climbed into bed and pulled her close, the air rushed out of her lungs. He looked so good—his fingers moving to his belt, his lips brushing her neck. When he gently parted her legs, she didn’t resist. She gave in. It was fine. It had to be. At least now, she told herself, she was one step closer to winning his heart. The Next Day Hours later, Monica stood in the checkout line, her basket filled with Liam’s favorite things—ingredients for that cheesy garlic pasta he loved, the sparkling water he always kept in the fridge, even the chocolate-covered almonds he claimed he didn’t like but always ate. She smiled. He liked her cooking. Monica held the grocery bag close as she got into the cab, her heart still floating from last night. She stepped into the mansion, greeted by the smell of polish and silence. Rose, the maid, hurried over. “I’ll cook tonight,” Monica said, handing her the groceries. “Yes, Ma,” Rose replied, already heading to the kitchen. Monica climbed the stairs slowly, touching the railing like it might steady her racing thoughts. Liam had finally touched her. Three years of waiting, hoping, pretending not to care—and now, something had changed. He made love to her. He kissed her. He held her close. But her smile faded. She remembered the condom in his hand. Why? They were married. Her fingers brushed her stomach as a quiet ache settled in her chest. Didn’t he want a baby with her? Was she still just someone to share the house with? No. She wouldn’t ruin this moment. He was trying. That had to mean something. She always knew Liam hadn’t married her for love. Not at first. But he’d never had a girlfriend before, so she kept hoping. Maybe, one day, he’d feel something for her too. Last night had felt like the start of that. Liam had been her magazine crush long before he became her husband. As a model, Monica had seen her fair share of good-looking men—but Liam was different. Ocean-blue eyes, a sharp jaw, and a smile that looked like it belonged on a billboard. He was the kind of man everyone wanted. The man she had fallen for the moment she saw his photo years ago. She hurried up the stairs, hope bubbling inside her. Maybe things were finally changing. Maybe she should change into something pretty, surprise him. But then she stopped. Right at the top of the stairs—clothes. Not hers. A lace bra. A silky blouse. One red high heel tipped on its side like it had been kicked off in a rush. Monica’s breath caught. Her heart raced. She didn’t move. Couldn’t. Her eyes stayed locked on the mess by their bedroom door. Then, slowly, dread pushed her forward. Her steps were quiet. She stepped over the scattered clothes, each one feeling like a slap. Her hand shook as she reached for the doorknob. And then—she opened the door. From the other side of the door came a voice—soft, familiar, and sweet. “Why don’t you divorce Monica? I’ve waited long enough, Liam.” Monica froze. That voice. She knew it. Every word felt like a knife. Brie. Her sister. The one person she had loved with her whole heart. Then Liam spoke, his voice calm. “You know how much my grandma loves Monica. She has to mess up first before I can divorce her.” Monica’s hand flew to her mouth as a sob escaped. Tears rushed to her eyes, blurring everything. No, this couldn’t be real. But it was. She didn’t need to see more. Her husband. Her sister. In her bed. Tears filled Monica’s eyes as she stepped back, her legs shaky. “But I’m tired of hiding,” Brie said. “Sneaking around is too much. I feel sad all the time.” Monica’s stomach hurt. Sneaking around? So this wasn’t the first time. “Just a little more time, love,” Liam said. Love. He had never called Monica that. She couldn’t breathe. Her throat felt tight. She tried to stay quiet, but a small cough slipped out. Liam and Brie turned fast. Their eyes went wide. They grabbed the sheets, trying to cover up. But it was too late. Monica had seen everything. “Monica!” Liam shouted, jumping out of bed. His face went pale. “How long have you been there?” Brie grabbed the blanket, covering herself. Her voice shook. “I’m sorry, sister. I love Liam. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Monica just stared at them. Her chest hurt. Her own sister. Her husband. “You don’t need to say sorry,” Liam said fast. “It’s not your fault.” Monica let out a dry laugh. “How long?” she asked. “How long have you been doing this?” Brie looked down. Liam didn’t say anything. “How long?” Monica shouted. Brie whispered, “Three years. We love each other. We want to get married.” Monica’s world stopped. “Three years?” she whispered. “You’ve been cheating since the start?” She stepped back, shaking. “I gave up everything for you. My dreams. My life. For this?” “This marriage was never a choice,” Liam said coldly. “It was just a favor to my mother.” The words hit her like a slap. Monica blinked, her voice shaking. “So all those late nights… the lipstick on your shirt… the dents on your car… You were with Brie? You were with my sister?” More tears spilled, but she didn’t bother wiping them. Brie let out a shaky breath. “Look, sister… I didn’t mean for it to happen like this.” Monica turned to her, her face pale. “You didn’t mean to? All those nights I tried to get close to my own husband—he was already giving himself to you.” Her voice broke as she whispered, “I waited for him… I stayed loyal… I loved him.” Liam’s eyes narrowed. “Stop whining like a baby.” Her tears poured as she grabbed a photo frame and threw it. “You’re both shameless!” Brie covered her belly. “Stop! You’ll hurt the baby!” Monica froze. “Baby?” Her voice was small. “You’re pregnant?” Liam rushed over and grabbed Monica’s arm, pushing her away from Brie. She fell. “You pushed me…” she whispered. “You were going to hurt my child,” Liam said, his voice cold. Monica laughed, but it sounded broken. “Your child? With my sister?” Monica's voice shook as the truth sank in. "Oh... I get it now." She took a shaky breath, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Last night... you used protection because it wasn’t love. It was just... a hookup. In our marriage." Brie’s voice was soft, but it cut deep. “I’m sorry, Monica, but Liam and I are meant to be. You’ve been so obsessed with him, you never saw that he wasn’t happy with you.” Monica nodded slowly, the pain settling in her chest. “You’ve always taken what’s mine… ever since we were kids.” Liam’s eyes were empty. “I was never yours.” Brie stood next to him, her voice almost sweet. “He loves me now. You two were just arranged.” Monica’s heart broke, and her voice cracked. “What about last night? Was it all fake?” Liam didn’t even look at her. “I felt bad for you. That’s all.” Monica’s throat tightened. She couldn’t speak. Her world felt like it was shattering. Without another word, she turned and ran.She didn’t dare breathe. Monica pressed herself deeper into the shadow of the tree, rough bark scraping her spine. Her hand clamped over her mouth so tightly her fingers were starting to cramp, but the trembling wouldn’t stop. Not in her limbs. Not in her chest. Her heartbeat was loud enough, she feared it might echo. The woods had fallen eerily silent, as if even the wind was holding its breath. Crunch. A footstep. Then another. He was closer. She heard him mutter under his breath. The way twigs snapped beneath his boots. The rustling of leaves as he parted branches. She slowly crouched lower, eyes darting around the forest floor. Dry leaves. Moss. A broken stick nearby, but too brittle to be useful. Her throat was dry, her legs coiled tight like a spring. “I know you’re out here, sweetheart,” the man called out suddenly, voice dark and amused. “Why don’t you come out before you step into something worse?” Monica flinched. He didn’t sound winded anymore. He soun
Monica’s eyelids fluttered open, light slicing into her skull like a blade. A groan slipped from her lips as the throb behind her temples pulsed harder. Her muscles screamed in protest, as though she’d been hit by a truck and left to rot. She shifted, or tried to. The sharp bite of rope cut into her wrists, yanking her fully awake. “What the…” Her voice cracked, dry and hoarse. Her arms were pinned behind her back, wrists bound tightly. She looked down—one leg bent awkwardly, the other strapped to a wooden chair leg. The coarse rope dug into her skin like sandpaper. She winced. “Fuck,” she hissed, twisting. The rope only scraped deeper. The room swam into focus. Bare walls, a single bed with sheets askew, and a chipped center table. On the cabinet: two empty glasses. A bottle of wine, half-drained, stood like an accusation. Someone had been here. Recently. Her gaze darted to the window—curtains drawn, nailed shut from the inside. The air was stale, tinged with old perfu
The door clicked open with a soft chime as Adriana stepped inside, her heels clicking sharply against the glossy marble floor. She paused in the doorway, eyes sweeping the decadent space—chandeliers dripping from the ceiling, velvet furniture draped in gold accents, and a panoramic view of the glittering skyline beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Brie was already waiting. She lounged across a velvet chaise in a backless silk dress, a glass of rosé in one hand and a remote in the other, casually flipping through fashion week highlights on a muted TV screen mounted across the room. Adriana shut the door behind her with a slam. “When you told me to meet you at this penthouse,” Adriana said, stalking forward with crossed arms, “I didn’t know you did something useful with the money you stole from Liam’s company.” Brie didn't flinch. Instead, she offered a soft smile and lifted her glass lazily. “You’re welcome to sit. Or judge. I enjoy both equally.” Adriana scoffed and remai
“It’s been over four goddamn hours and you’re telling me she’s vanished into thin air? Not a single camera caught anything?” Spencer’s voice thundered through the office like a storm, slamming against the walls as the two uniformed officers stiffened under the pressure.“We’re doing everything we can, Mr. McKenzie,” one of them said cautiously. “But the details you gave us are limited. We need more time.”Spencer’s jaw clenched, veins tightening at his temples. “Time?” he spat. “She was taken from under our noses. You had one job—track her. You can’t even do that?”“Sir,” the second officer stepped in, trying to keep things civil. “We understand your concern, but your tone—”“Don’t lecture me on tone,” Spencer cut in, eyes blazing. “Just get out. Both of you.”The first officer’s lips thinned. “Out of respect for your situation, we’ll overlook the disrespect this time. But be mindful, Mr. McKenzie. You’re not above the law.”They turned and left stiffly, closing the office door behind
“But we need to talk about Anthony,” Max said gently, voice dipping low as his eyes searched Lake’s face.“I don’t want to.” Lake stepped back, trying to shake off the weight in his chest—and Max’s touch.Max didn’t let go so easily.He grabbed Lake’s wrists and pinned them softly but firmly above his head, stepping into his space. “You don’t want to?” Max murmured, leaning in.His lips brushed Lake’s neck—warm, hungry. He pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive curve, dragging his tongue down to the hollow of Lake’s collarbone.Lake let out a breathy moan, twisting slightly beneath his grip. “Max…”“Are you turned on?” Max teased, lips brushing over the quickening beat in Lake’s throat.Lake’s mouth parted, but instead of words, he lunged forward, desperate for another kiss. Max pulled back just an inch—just enough to deny him.He grinned.“That’s all for now,” he said, voice low and wicked. “You want more…” His thumb skimmed Lake’s bottom lip. “Then talk to me.”“Bastar
Max guided Lake carefully toward the car, one arm wrapped securely around his waist. He reached out and pulled the passenger door open with one hand, the other steadying Lake."Slowly, Lake," Max mumbled, voice low with concern.Lake didn’t respond, but the way his body leaned heavier told Max he wasn’t doing as fine as he claimed. Once seated, Lake let out a shaky breath and immediately closed his eyes, head resting back against the seat. Max watched him for a beat longer, worry pinching the corners of his brows, then gently shut the door.As Max rounded the front of the car, his eyes landed on Leo, who stood by the curb with his hands in his pockets and an unreadable look on his face."You can find your way back, right?" Max asked, his tone cool and unconcerned.Leo scoffed, one brow rising. “You can actually ask that like you mean it, you know.”Max didn’t offer a response. He had already turned away, sliding into the driver’s seat without another word."Jerk," Leo muttered under h
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