FAZER LOGINAs heiress to a billion-dollar empire, my life is a gilded cage every smile calculated, every friend vetted. When a kidnapping attempt shatters my world, my father tightens the chains. He hires Ethan Knight. A ghost from special forces, Ethan is cold indifference and silent scrutiny. I am his reckless, rebellious charge. From the moment we meet, it's war. I despise him; he has no patience for a spoiled heiress. Then a bullet tears through the air, and Ethan takes it for me. In the aftermath, the mask crumbles. I see the haunted eyes, the hidden scars, the man beneath the soldier. In recovery, the walls dissolve. We find something real. A love with nothing to do with my money. I thought I'd escaped my cage. But I'd only traded one prison for another. Because Ethan didn't stumble into my life. He was sent by ghosts of his past. My father the man he's sworn to protect is the same man who destroyed his family. The man I love is not my protector. He is my enemy. Now, as a hidden threat resurfaces and deadly secrets begin to unfold, I'm torn between love and truth. Someone wants me dead, and the only man who can save me is the one whose heart I have every reason to fear. Our love is a lie, but it might be the only thing that keeps me alive.
Ver mais"They're here."
The whisper came from behind me. I turned slowly, expecting to see one of the waiters or perhaps one of my father's business partners trying to get my attention. Instead, I found Marcus. His face had lost its usual calm expression, the man who never panicked looked tense, his sharp eyes scanning every corner of the grand ballroom. Something was wrong. Very wrong. The ballroom sparkled under the glow of crystal chandeliers, expensive flowers decorated every table, filling the room with the sweet scent of roses and lilies. Soft classical music drifted through the air while waiters in black uniforms moved gracefully between guests serving champagne and fine wine, It should have been another perfect night another celebration of Victor Sterling's success. My father stood near the stage, surrounded by politicians, celebrities, and wealthy business owners. He looked exactly as he always did: confident, powerful, and completely in control. People laughed at his jokes. They shook his hand. They congratulated him for buying yet another technology company. To everyone else, he was an inspiration. To me… he was simply my father. A man who loved control more than freedom. "Lillian." Marcus spoke again, this time more firmly. "We have to leave," I frowned. "What do you mean?" Before he could answer, the lights went out. Darkness swallowed the ballroom. For one second, everything became silent. Then chaos exploded. Women screamed. Glasses shattered against the marble floor. Someone bumped into me so hard that my champagne slipped from my hand. The sound of breaking glass echoed through the room. "What happened?" "Turn the lights back on!" "Somebody help!" People pushed each other, trying to reach the exits. Children cried. The music stopped. Somewhere outside Bang! A gunshot echoed through the night. Then another. Bang! Bang! My heart nearly stopped. Those weren't fireworks. Those were bullets. Marcus grabbed my wrist so tightly it almost hurt. "Miss Sterling." His voice was calm, but I could hear the urgency underneath. "We're leaving. Now," he pulled me through the frightened crowd. "Marcus!" I struggled to keep up. "Tell me what's happening!" "No time." "But my father, Mr. Sterling, is protected." His answer did little to calm me. I looked around, trying to find my father. The ballroom was a sea of frightened faces. People were running in every direction. Someone fell. Another person stepped over them without stopping. Fear had turned everyone into strangers. "Lillian!" I heard my father's voice somewhere across the room. I turned toward it. For a brief second, I saw him standing near the stage with several guards surrounding him. Our eyes met. He looked relieved to see Marcus beside me. Then one of the guards pushed him toward another exit. That was the last time I saw him that night. Marcus pulled me into a narrow hallway away from the crowd. The noise from the ballroom became quieter. Only our hurried footsteps echoed against the polished floor. "What is going on?" I asked again. Marcus finally looked at me. "Someone breached the estate." "What?" "They're armed." A chill ran down my spine. "Our security system should have stopped them." "It didn't." "How many?" "We don't know." The answer frightened me even more. Marcus knew everything. If he didn't know how many people had entered the estate… then the situation was worse than I imagined. We reached the end of the hallway. Marcus stopped in front of what looked like an ordinary wooden wall. He pressed his thumb against a hidden scanner. A soft beep sounded. Then part of the wall slowly slid open a secret passage. I stared at him. "We have secret tunnels?" "We have many things you don't know about." "Father never told me." "He didn't want you to know." Marcus stepped aside. "Go." I looked into the dark tunnel. It was narrow, cold, and completely silent. "I'm not leaving without my father." "He's already being moved to another safe location." "Then I'll go with him." "You can't." "Why not?" Before Marcus could answer, footsteps echoed behind us. Slow. Confident. Not the hurried footsteps of frightened guests, but the footsteps of men who knew exactly where they were going. Marcus immediately pulled out his gun. His eyes narrowed. Three masked men appeared at the other end of the hallway. All dressed in black. Each carrying a weapon. One of them tilted his head when he saw me. Then… he smiled. "There she is." My blood turned cold. They weren't looking for money. They weren't looking for my father. They had come… for me. The masked man shoved me toward the waiting SUV. "Get her inside!" he shouted. Before he could force me into the car, a dark figure dropped from the roof of the SUV. Everything happened in seconds. One punch. One kick. One man crashed into the car. Another hit the ground with a painful groan. The third kidnapper stepped back and pulled out a gun. My heart stopped. "Look out!" I screamed. The stranger turned toward me. Bang! The bullet hit his side. Blood spread across his white shirt. Even after being shot, he refused to fall. He threw a knife with incredible speed. The blade struck the gunman's shoulder. The kidnapper screamed as the weapon slipped from his hand. At that moment, security guards rushed into the garden from every direction. "Protect Miss Sterling!" The kidnappers escaped into the darkness before they could be caught. The stranger swayed where he stood. I ran to him and caught him before he hit the ground. "Please… stay with me." His eyes met mine. They were filled with pain… but also relief. He studied my face for a long moment before whispering, "They finally found you, Lillian." My breath caught. How did he know my name? Before I could ask another question, his eyes closed and his body went limp in my arms.“Who is this,” I said again, my voice steadier than I felt. Ethan was already watching me, alert to the shift in my posture, and I put the phone on speaker without needing to ask.“My name doesn’t matter yet,” the voice said. Male, older, careful in a way that suggested caution rather than menace. “What matters is that I was in your gardens two nights ago. I imagine your security team is still trying to figure out who.” Ethan’s whole body went rigid beside me. “You were the one in the tree line,” he said, leaning toward the phone. “Ethan Knight,” the man said, not quite surprised. “I wondered if you’d be with her when I finally called.” “Who are you.” “Someone who used to work security for Aldridge Holdings, before it dissolved. Someone who got paid very well, for a long time, to make sure certain things stayed buried. I’ve spent the last several years trying to decide whether I could live with that silence forever. I’ve decided I can’t.”I gripped Ethan’s hand tighter. “You were watc
We didn’t talk about the kiss again right away — not because either of us regretted it, but because something about naming it too quickly felt like it might make it smaller than it was. Instead, for the rest of that morning, we existed in a strange, comfortable orbit around each other, finding excuses to be in the same room without needing a reason.I found him in the library after lunch, and instead of leaving him to whatever he was reading, I sat across from him with a book of my own, and we stayed like that for over an hour, saying nothing, occasionally glancing up to find the other already looking. It was, I realized, the first entirely unremarkable afternoon I’d had since the ballroom, and I hadn’t known how much I needed one until it was already happening.“You’re staring,” he said eventually, not looking up from his page. “So are you.” “I’m allowed. You’re the one supposed to be reading.” “I am reading.” “You’ve been on the same page for twenty minutes.” I closed the book, caug
I came downstairs the next morning to find the kitchen in a state of quiet chaos — flour dusted across the counter, a pan smoking faintly on the stove, and Ethan standing in the middle of it all looking more lost than I’d ever seen him in the face of an actual armed threat.“What happened in here,” I asked, trying not to laugh. “The chef quit.” “The chef quit.” “This morning. Apparently the tree line incident was the last straw. She said something about being paid to cook, not survive a siege, and left before anyone could stop her.” He turned off the burner, grimacing at whatever was inside the pan. “Marcus is dealing with her replacement. In the meantime, I offered to make breakfast.” “You cook?” “I said I offered. I didn’t say I was good at it.”I peered into the pan and found something that had once, optimistically, been intended as eggs. “Ethan.” “Don’t.” “I wasn’t going to say anything.” “You were absolutely going to say something.” “It’s very… rustic.” “It’s inedible and we both
Marcus didn’t move for a long moment after Ethan read the name aloud. He just stared at the screen like it might change if he looked at it long enough, like the letters would rearrange themselves into something less impossible.“That’s not—” He stopped, swallowed, tried again. “That’s a mistake. A clerical error. It has to be.” “Marcus.” Ethan’s voice was careful, the way it got when he was handling something breakable. “When’s the last time you spoke to your father?” “He died when I was nineteen.” Marcus’s hands had gone very still on the keyboard. “Heart attack. I was the one who found him.” “Did you ever go through his things afterward? Papers, accounts, anything like that?” “No.” The word came out rough. “I was nineteen, Ethan. I buried him and I took the security job Victor offered me because I needed something to do with my hands that wasn’t grieving, and I never once thought to ask why a man who worked as a groundskeeper his whole life would have anything to do with a holding c


















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