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She was forbidden
Last Updated:
2024-05-22 00:26:24
Latest chapter
She, His Enigma Only death
Ellaya sat still before the grand mirror, draped in a white-laced wedding gown that shimmered like moonlight. The delicate veil framed her sculpted face, and her hand, trembling ever so slightly, applied a final stroke of blood-red lipstick. Her amethyst eyes, now framed by flawless makeup, sparkled with beauty—but not with joy. There was no trace of a bride’s glow, no hint of a smile. Only the hollowness of betrayal haunted her reflection. A storm of memories spun in her mind like shards of broken glass. Her first wedding day with Iden—how she had run from her home with a heart full of foolish hope, blind to the cage she was walking into. Back then, he was her savior, her knight, her angel in disguise. She never realized he was also the architect of her ruin. The courtroom. Her confession. The accident. The heartbreak. The beginning of revenge. Now, once again, she was cloaked in white. But it no longer symbolized purity or new beginnings. It felt like a burial shroud—one for th
She, His Enigma Still mine
The moon hung heavy—full, luminous, so low it seemed poised to kiss the earth. Trees swayed in the cool night breeze, leaves rustling like whispers of forgotten lullabies. The wind brushed against Ellaya’s bare arms, her short satin nightgown fluttering around her thighs like a fragile ghost. Her wild hair tangled around her shoulders, caught by the breeze. One hand held a wine glass, the other a half-burnt cigarette. Smoke curled from her lips, melting into the foggy night, blending with the distant chorus of crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl.The scent of wine and smoke clung to her skin, mingling with the cool air. She leaned against the wrought iron railing of the balcony, watching the darkness stretch endlessly before her.Tomorrow, it would be over. The last day. She would face Richeard—end what needed ending.The world already knew. Headlines screamed the news: Iden Devid Ruan and former singer Ellaya Stone were getting married. She’d made a brief public appearance—smi
She, His Enigma Anathema
“Good, very good… just like my little puppet.” Richard’s voice slithered through the phone like a serpent. Ellaya’s head snapped toward Iden. His jaw was clenched, teeth grinding. Tension flickered across his face like lightning about to strike. “That man never stopped looking for you,” Richard continued. “And now, here you are… right next to him.” Iden didn’t speak. He simply turned his back and leaned against the wall, arms crossed, as if trying to shut out the voice on the other end of the call. “It’s a good opportunity, puppet. End him now.” Ellaya’s voice was calm, but her insides were shifting like tectonic plates. “It’s not as easy as you think, Richard. He’s surrounded by an unbreakable wall of security—and his coldest brothers. There’s no way to breach it.” “I know, I know…” Richard chuckled, darkly amused. “But for a wife? Breaking into her husband’s security should be a piece of cake, shouldn’t it?” “I’m not his wife.” Ellaya turned to Iden, locking ey
She, His Enigma String
Two days later, Carl and Louisa’s bodies were discovered floating lifeless in the pool of their own mansion. That same afternoon, a video dropped like a bomb. Broadcasted on every channel, shared across every platform, the footage sent the nation into a tailspin. In it, Carl and Louisa sat side by side, pale and hollow-eyed—like ghosts confessing at their own wake. They revealed the truth: how they destroyed Ellaya’s life and buried her family’s legacy to cover up their crimes. How they framed her, poisoned Alex Ruan, planted an imposter at the Ruan Corporation, and forced Ellaya to lie in court. They ended with a grim, final confession: > “We’ve lived long enough with our crimes. Prison was never meant for us. So we chose the only escape left.” And just like that—public opinion turned. The same people who had spat Ellaya’s name with venom now filled the streets demanding justice. Social media overflowed with apologies and shame. #JusticeForEllaya #ForgiveUsEllaya
She, His Enigma Confession
Ellaya pulled away from him, her body taut like a bowstring, gaze darting around the room as if it were a cage. She rubbed her eyes, smudging away the fog of grief and fury that clouded her thoughts. Then, slowly, she turned to face him—her lips parted slightly, vulnerability shimmering in her eyes like cracks in glass. “I want to see them,” she said softly, her voice a fragile tremor in the stillness. Iden didn’t move. His eyes studied her, the same girl who once curled into his chest like she belonged there. Her heart—once soft, now shielded—beat beneath a skin that life had hardened. Her exterior still looked like stone, smoothed over by time, but he knew the chaos roiling beneath. “Eat first,” he said gently, his voice low, his eyes flicking to the blood dried on her clothes—evidence of a war not just fought outside, but deep within her soul. “And change. Samantha will help you.” ............. With Samantha’s quiet guidance, Ellaya stepped into the bathroom. Steam rose,
She, His Enigma Truth
“I’m still a married man, Ellaya,” Iden murmured, his voice like the weight of stone. “I’d have to divorce you before marrying anyone.” She froze. Then, like a flame catching wind, she turned—eyes blazing, breath sharp. “Then do it! Divorce me! Marry her! I don’t give a damn about you or your f*cking girlfriend!” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t falter. She stormed toward the door, grabbing her coat in a single, furious movement. Something clattered to the floor—a sharp metallic sound that sliced through the tension like a blade. Iden’s gaze flicked downward. A flash drive. Before he could move, Ellaya spun—feral, fast, fire in her limbs—reaching for it. He snatched it up, holding it just out of reach. “What’s this?” Her jaw tightened. “None of your concern.” His eyes narrowed. “Everything about you is my concern.” Their eyes locked—rage meeting sorrow, grief meeting fury. Something unspoken bled between them, too broken to name. She lunged again, and th
She, His Enigma Still married
The tires screeched as Iden slammed his foot on the gas, weaving through the deserted streets like they belonged to him. His knuckles blanched around the steering wheel, jaw clenched tight, eyes flicking toward the passenger seat every few seconds. “Hold on, princess,” he muttered, voice raw, thick with desperation. “We’re almost there.” Ellaya slumped beside him, her coat wrapped tightly around her trembling frame. Blood seeped through the fabric, soaking into her side like ink in water. She clutched the collar like it was the only thing keeping her soul inside her skin. No cries. No moans. Just silence. That silence—so unlike her—shredded him. The car skidded to a halt at the private gates. Before the engine finished dying, Iden was out. He tore open her door and swept her into his arms. Her arm dangled limp, blood trailing behind them like a broken promise. “Stay with me, Ellaya,” he whispered into her hair as the elevator rose. His voice cracked. “Please hold on.” Th
She, His Enigma Confesion or chaos
Ellaya hesitated at the doorway, inhaling deeply. The house still clung to her—whispering ghosts through dust-laden air, pressing its past into her skin. Every shadow murmured stories; memories coiled in the wood and stone, weaving a tapestry of love, deception, and ruin. Her fingers trembled as they brushed the door. It creaked open with a reluctant groan. Silence devoured her whole. She stepped inside. The wooden floor groaned beneath her boots—each step a slow echo, like the thudding heartbeat of the house itself. The air was thick, stale, carrying the weight of forgotten arguments and kisses that had long since turned cold. Then— “Why?” The word sliced through the silence like a blade. She froze. That voice—deep, steady, sharpened by restrained rage—hit her like a gunshot to the soul. Her head snapped to the left. Iden sat on the single worn-out sofa. Legs sprawled. Fingers steepled. Shadows sliced across his face, obscuring the storm underneath—a mixture of grief an
She, His Enigma Not her
The overweight, middle-aged man pulled Ellaya closer by the waist, reeking of sweat and stale cologne. He leaned in, breath hot against her ear. "It’s time to taste my favorite drink," he whispered, his voice thick with sleaze. Ellaya giggled, head thrown back in mock delight. “Mmm, lucky me,” she purred, her fingers brushing his bloated stomach. Her neck-length short red hair bounced with the motion, and when she smiled, her snow-white teeth framed by blood-red lips seemed almost too perfect—almost dangerous. His eyes drank her in with animalistic hunger.“God, you’re a piece of work.” He shoved the door open and tossed her onto the plush bed. She bounced twice, landing with deliberate grace. Her eyes flicked to the hidden camera inside the ornate painting. She smiled—seductive, knowing. --- Iden sat in silence, watching her every move. Every glance. Every breath. His hand clenched around the armrest, knuckles white. His chest burned, rage simmering like wildfire under h
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