LOGIN"You aren't a wife, Adeline; you're just a pawned trinket your father sold to me to settle a debt he couldn't afford. So, just fucking sign this divorce paper!" To Rogue Sterling—the ruthless billionaire CEO—Adeline Marcus was nothing more than a contract he never wanted. For two years, she endured humiliation, betrayal, and the cruel indifference of the man she loved even after he announced that he impregnated his beloved ex and forced her to sign the divorce paper…pregnant she chose to leave... until a tragic plane crash took her from the world. The elites mourned. Rogue celebrated—with his pregnant mistress on his arm. But death can be a powerful disguise. Years later, she returns. A new name. A hidden heiress. Untouchable. Cold. Dangerous. And Rogue Sterling? The moment he sees her, regret crashes through him like a storm. The wife he abandoned is alive… and more powerful than he ever imagined. This time, she won’t beg for love. She won’t forgive. She’ll take everything—and he’ll realize too late what he lost.
View MoreThe next evening, the silence of the house was shattered not by Rogue’s key in the lock, but by a woman’s high-pitched, melodic laughter. I was in the kitchen, my fingers still bandaged from the burns of the night before, trying to swallow a piece of dry toast. My heart seized. He wasn't alone. Rogue walked into the living room, but he wasn't looking for me. He was focused on the woman draped over his arm—a petite brunette with sharp, cat-like eyes and a dress that cost more than my father’s remaining dignity. This wasn't the woman from the office. This was someone new, someone younger. "Rogue?" I stepped into the doorway, my voice barely a thread. The woman stopped, her eyes raking over my faded apron and the messy bun I hadn't had the energy to fix. She didn't look shocked. She looked amused. "Oh, Rogue... is this the 'staff' you mentioned? She looks a bit... haggard, don't you think?" Rogue didn't even glance at me. He was busy pouring two glasses of crystal-clear gin at the b
The stone in my stomach only grew heavier as I drove home. By the time I stepped back into the kitchen, the house felt even more like a mausoleum. I looked at my hands; they were still shaking. I should have stopped. I should have crawled into bed and stayed there until the world ended. But the habit of loving him was a sickness I didn’t know how to cure yet. I told myself that maybe the office was just… work stress. Maybe if I made his favorite—the complex, time-consuming beef bourguignon he used to mention before the marriage became a cage—he would finally see me. I spent four hours in that kitchen. I chopped, I sautéed, I simmered. I burnt my finger on the heavy pot, the skin blistering instantly, but I didn't cry. The physical pain was a grounding wire for the screaming in my head. I set the table with the fine lace runner and the candles we had received as a wedding gift—a gift we had never used. I sat there. I waited. Seven o'clock became nine. Nine became eleven. The can
The sunlight didn’t just wake me; it executed the morning. It cut through the heavy velvet curtains like a serrated blade, exposing the wreckage of a room that had become a crime scene.I reached out, my fingers trembling as they brushed the cold, expensive silk where Rogue should have been. The space was hollow, retaining none of his heat, only the lingering, oppressive scent of strong vanilla. He was always gone before the shame could settle, leaving me to drown in the suffocating silence of a house that felt less like a home and more like a gilded cage.I tried to sit up, but a jagged, white-hot scream of pain radiated from my core. My thighs are trembling.I collapsed back into the pillows, my breath hitching in a throat that felt like it had been scraped raw. Every muscle was a map of his cruelty—a reminder that he had used me not as a wife, but as a vessel for a rage he couldn’t name and needs he refused to acknowledge.I stayed motionless, staring at the center of the bed. Th
Feeling completely drained, I decided to sleep off the pain after taking a cold bath. My plan was to wait until the others were finished before heading down to eat. I was eventually jolted from my sleep by a soft, hesitant knock on the door. Still barefoot, I climbed out of bed and quickly fixed my hair before cracking the door open. I was surprised to find the blonde guy standing there. He gave me a small, shy smile as the door opened, and I couldn't help but feel a wave of awkwardness. "U-uh, do you need something?" I asked, unsure why he’d come to my room. "The guys are all passed out; they're pretty drunk," he explained. I stepped back slightly, glancing him over. "You look sober, though," I noted, eyeing him suspiciously. He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't drink much. My stomach can’t really handle it anyway." I nodded, though the silence that followed felt heavy. "Anyway, I just came up to say goodbye. I have to head out first." I gave him a small, polite


















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