MasukMonica 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."
Lihat lebih banyakThe morning was crisp, silver-gray clouds stretching across the sky like folded sheets. Spencer adjusted the cuffs of his shirt as he stepped out of the elevator, a garment bag slung over his arm, his other hand clutching his phone.Diane stood waiting at the lobby entrance, tablet in hand, her eyes sharp and ready. “Good morning, sir. The car is waiting.”He nodded once, then looked around the open lobby. It was early, but the building was already humming with quiet urgency—assistants hustling down corridors, heels tapping like a metronome of efficiency.“Before I go, I want all files for the Zurich account pulled and scanned to my secure inbox,” Spencer said, walking briskly toward the car. “Call Bernard directly—don’t leave it to his secretary. Tell him I’ll follow up mid-flight.”“yes, sir,” Diane replied, jotting notes down quickly. She hesitated, then looked up. “About the investor meeting next week…”“Postpone it,” he said without missing a beat. “If they can’t wait, they’re no
The music in the club pulsed like a heartbeat, deep and relentless. Lights flashed across their faces in soft strobes—red, blue, white—painting Spencer’s tired expression in fleeting colors. Max took another sip of his drink before speaking. “She didn’t even show up for the after-party.” Spencer didn’t respond. His fingers traced the rim of his untouched glass. “I really thought she would,” Max added. “I mean... the award, the show, all the buzz. It had her name written all over it. She deserved to stand there and own that moment.” “She was just gone,” Spencer said finally, his voice rough. “Like she never existed.” Max sighed and nudged the second drink toward him. “At least you know she’s alive now. You don’t have to keep carrying that guilt.” Spencer’s shoulders tensed. “That doesn’t make it better.” Max frowned. “It should.” “It doesn’t,” Spencer muttered. “Because I don’t know if she’s safe. I don’t know where she is. I don’t even know if she’s eating, sleeping, o
Spencer sat alone in the boardroom, long after everyone else had gone home.The lights were off. Only the faint orange glow from the city bled through the floor-to-ceiling windows. His laptop was still open in front of him, screen dimming to black after hours of inactivity. He didn’t move to wake it.A glass of whiskey sat untouched near his elbow. The ice had melted.Papers lay scattered across the table—maps, reports, drone surveillance stills. GPS coordinates circled in red ink. Names. Time stamps. Useless details.None of them brought her back.His thumb hovered over her last message again. A photo of her coffee, snapped hours before she vanished. It meant nothing, and yet he couldn’t stop staring at it.Two weeks. Two goddamn weeks.And all they had were guesses. Maybes.He leaned back slowly, resting his head against the cold leather of the chair, eyes shutting as if by doing so he could escape the noise in his mind. But even in the dark, Monica’s voice haunted him. Her smile. T
The days that followed felt like a blur of warmth and shadows—of comfort interrupted by the aftershocks of what could’ve been a tragedy.After the police took Anthony and his accomplice away, Max barely let go of Lake. He wrapped his jacket tightly around him and guided him back to the car with a gentleness that made Lake want to cry all over again. No words were spoken for most of the ride—just silence and Max’s hand in his, thumb brushing over his knuckles in quiet reassurance.When they got home, Max helped him out of his shoes, helped him sit, brought him tea he didn’t drink, and tucked a blanket over his shoulders like he was made of glass. Lake didn’t protest. He didn’t have the strength to. He was still shaking, heart still skipping anytime he heard a car outside or footsteps near the door.But Max stayed. He stayed through the night, never leaving the couch where he’d curled up beside him. And when the sun rose and Lake finally fell into a light, uneasy sleep, Max slipped into
“No. No. Leave me alone.”Lake twisted on the bed, voice choked and barely audible.Max stirred. His eyes blinked open into the dim light of the room. He turned toward the sound, brows drawn.“Lake?”He reached out, hand gently brushing against Lake’s shoulder.“Hey. You’re dreaming again. Wake up.
Monica sat on the edge of the bed, still wrapped in a blanket. Her arms rested on her knees. Her fingers tapped against each other in a slow, restless rhythm. The night had ended hours ago, but her thoughts hadn’t. Indiana watched her from across the room, leaning against the wall. Her arms were f
Lake stumbled over a root, nearly falling face-first into the forest floor. The man behind him shoved his shoulder, forcing him upright. “Keep moving.” It was the first time the man had spoken. His voice was low—rough and cold like gravel under boot. Lake’s breath caught in his throat. Someth
Lake stepped down from the last backdrop, sweat clinging lightly at the nape of his neck. The team behind the camera clapped softly—some polite, others more genuine. “That’s a wrap, Lake. Great work today.” “You really nailed that last set. The couch shots were fire.” Tania handed him a bottle o


















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