LOGINHe needed a fake fiancée. She needed a lifeline. Neither expected to become a target. Amelia Monroe signs a contract to save her clinic and escape a crushing lawsuit: pretend to be the future wife of Frederick Blackwell, a cold, calculating billionaire with more enemies than friends. But the moment the ink dries, everything spirals. A mysterious car crash. Silent boardroom wars. Leaked secrets. And Frederick—her supposed fake fiancé—goes missing. As Amelia gets pulled deeper into his world of corporate deception and hidden vendettas, one thing becomes terrifyingly clear: this was never just a contract. The threats are real. The danger is closing in. And the only thing more dangerous than the lies… is the growing truth between them. How do you fake a love that starts to feel real—when someone out there wants to see you both destroyed?
View MoreThe screen went black.The last flicker of that familiar hair burned into Amelia’s mind, lodging itself behind her eyes like a splinter she couldn’t pry free. The silence that followed was worse than the ping of alarms, worse than the static hum of the machines. It was heavy. Crushing.Frederick didn’t move at first. He stood there, muscles locked, jaw clenched, one hand braced against the console as if the weight of the entire Empire rested on that single point of contact.She wanted to reach for him, to close the gap, but she knew him well enough now to recognize the stillness. It wasn’t calm. It was storm.When he finally spoke, his voice was a low scrape of gravel. “They want me to believe it’s you.”Her throat tightened. She took one step closer, her bare feet whispering against the polished floor. “And do you?”The question hung between them.Slowly, painfully, Frederick turned his head. His eyes found hers, dark and raw, threaded with a kind of fear she had never seen in him be
Amelia’s chest tightened so fiercely that it felt as if her lungs had been compressed in a vice. Her fingers shook as she reached for the folder, as though touching it might erase the damning truth printed in cold black letters. She didn’t. She couldn’t. To do so would be to admit that maybe, in some twisted corner of reality, the accusation could be true. That maybe her presence at the Empire had been exploited, or worse, that someone had used her without her knowing.“Frederick…” Her voice trembled, soft, almost pleading. “You have to believe me. I wasn’t there. I didn’t—”“Then explain it,” he snapped, the words slicing through the room. His hands clenched the folder until the edges bent. “Tell me how your card was used at the Empire at the exact time the security systems were breached. Because right now, Amelia, it looks like you’ve been lying to me.”The accusation hung in the air like smoke, curling around her ribs, suffocating. She took a trembling step back, then another, the
Amelia’s breath refused to steady. She sat on the floor of her clinic, glass scattered like sharp stars around her, the note still trembling in her hand. Patients whispered, some cried, nurses tried to calm them, but all the noise blurred into the background. The only thing clear was the paper between her fingers, the threat carved into it with jagged strokes.He will never be yours.The words seared her like an open flame, and for a moment, she thought she might choke on the weight of them. She’d known from the start that being tied to Frederick painted a target on her back, but seeing it written so bluntly, so personally, cut deeper than anything else. This wasn’t just about him. Whoever had sent this wanted her gone. Wanted her broken.The phone still lay where it had fallen, Frederick’s voice spilling out in fragments. “Amelia? … answer me. Amelia.” His tone carried a sharpness that made her chest tighten, as if he were here already, pulling her up, shielding her with that unshaka
By the time the room emptied, Frederick was no closer to breathing.He had ordered them out—every technician, every guard, every last witness to the frame frozen on the wall. The silence that followed pressed against his skull, thick and suffocating, leaving him alone with the glow of screens and the shape of a woman who could not, must not, be Amelia.He replayed it again. The movement. The fall of hair over the shoulder. The turn of her body as the ID card was swiped. Credentials flashed on the corner of the screen: Dr. Amelia Hart.Each time, the same truth stared back at him, and each time he refused to believe it.His fists clenched at his sides. His pulse was a steady roar in his ears, drowning out reason, drowning out memory. Yet memory fought to surface—her voice shaking in the dark when she confessed her nightmares, the way her breath trembled against his chest, the desperate honesty in her eyes when she let him touch her as though she’d been waiting her whole life for someon
PRESENT DAY Frederick stood at the observation window of one of New York’s top trauma hospitals, arms folded as he listened to the head physician rattle off stats and success rates. His gaze, however, was elsewhere. He barely registered the room’s polished sterility or the pristine white coats bus
The Blackwell Estate shimmered under the glow of a hundred lanterns, each one flickering like a star in the early December sky. The air was crisp, laced with the scent of pine and chilled champagne. Inside, the grand ballroom had been transformed into a kingdom of elegance and mystery. Velvet drape
He tasted like desperation and hunger, like a man who had waited too long to breathe. She melted into him, her fingers digging into his hair as he lifted her off her feet."I thought I lost you," he murmured against her lips.She answered him with a moan, her legs locking around his waist. "Then ta
SIX YEARS AGO The rooftop of the Silex Innovations gala shimmered like a mirage against the New York skyline. Golden chandeliers hung beneath glass arches, violins played in the background, and champagne flowed like silk. Everyone was dressed to dazzle, to impress, to be seen. Well, except Amelia H






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