Eleanor Whitestone was bred for perfection, polished, poised, and promised to the man her father handpicked to secure their empire. But on her wedding day, everything shatters when she catches her fiancé in bed with her own sister. Humiliated and discarded, Eleanor’s world collapses in a single, brutal moment. Drowning in champagne and desperation, she makes a reckless choice: one night in the arms of Damian Laird, the city’s most ruthless billionaire CEO and her ex-fiancé’s sworn rival. She never expects the morning after to come with a proposition as shocking as her betrayal: marry him, carry his heir, and together they’ll destroy the people who broke her. Damian is cold, calculating, and devastatingly magnetic. He doesn’t believe in love but he does believe in revenge. And Eleanor is the perfect weapon…if she can survive the war they’re about to wage. But in a high stakes game of power and seduction, lines blur, and desire ignites into something neither of them saw coming. This time, Eleanor won’t be a pawn. She’ll be the queen and she’ll burn down anyone who tries to cage her again.
Lihat lebih banyakEleanor
I don’t think there’s a word strong enough to describe the taste of betrayal. Bitter doesn’t cover it. Acidic comes close, but even that feels too delicate, too poetic, for what it does to your heart when it detonates in your chest.
It started with the scent.
A woman’s perfume, sweet, cloying jasmine floating through the crack of the master bedroom door. It didn’t belong to me. I wore vanilla and sandalwood, soft and subtle. But this...this was unmistakably Aurora’s. My sister. The sister I once swore I’d die for.
My hand trembled against the polished brass handle. I told myself I was imagining it, that stress was making me paranoid. After all, it was my wedding day, and nerves could twist any innocent moment into something sinister.
But my instincts were louder than any rationalization.
I pressed my ear to the door. What I heard on the other side made my vision tunnel in on itself. A woman’s throaty moan, low and needy. A man’s rough, hungry voice whispering her name like a prayer, his voice. I could recognize it anywhere.
I staggered back a step, bile scorching my throat. My lace trimmed veil snagged on the doorframe, nearly pulling me off balance. I clamped a hand over my mouth to stop the scream fighting its way up. My lungs burned, but I couldn’t let a single sound escape. If I did, they’d know I was here, and I wasn’t ready to face them.
I wasn’t ready to face the death of every dream I’d ever dared to have.
I slipped into the walk in closet. My legs barely cooperated, trembling so violently I thought they’d give out. I crouched behind the row of hanging suits and gowns, my body dwarfed by the shadows. My fingers fumbled for my phone. Even in that moment, some lucid, savage instinct in me demanded proof. Receipts. Evidence no one could spin away or bury.
I cracked the closet door open just wide enough to see them.
My proud fiancé, Adrian Cole, the man I had loved for seven years, was naked on top of my sister. His muscular back flexed with every punishing thrust. The same back I had traced with my fingers a thousand times in the dark. Aurora clung to him, her nails raking red welts down his spine as she threw her head back and moaned like a p**n star.
“God, Adrian...harder,” she gasped, her voice husky. “You know she’ll never fuck you like this.”
A sob ripped free of my throat before I could stop it. I slapped my hand over my mouth, but it was too late. Adrian froze. His head jerked up, dark eyes scanning the room. For a heartbeat, I was sure he saw me. That he felt my horror as if it were a physical thing pressing against his skin.
But Aurora arched beneath him and dragged his mouth back to hers. He forgot everything but her.
I forced my thumb to press “Record.” My breath came in ragged little bursts as I filmed them, my sister’s legs locked around my future husband’s hips, her polished red toes digging into his calf, their bodies moving in a frenzy of lust that shredded what was left of my heart.
The girl I’d been yesterday naive, hopeful, eager to walk down the aisle died right there on the closet floor. She didn’t just die; she was butchered, dissected by the truth.
They didn’t love me. Maybe they never had.
The recording felt like my only anchor. A small, cold piece of justice in the storm. My hands were steady now, eerily so. I watched them finish together, heard them gasp and curse and laugh. My sister cupped his cheek, pressing a kiss to his lips with the kind of familiarity that spoke of countless stolen nights.
“When are you going to tell her?” Aurora murmured, her hand drifting to his chest. “She’s pathetic, Adrian. Clinging to you like you’re her salvation.”
“Let me get through today,” he rasped. “The merger with her father’s company closes at midnight. After that, she’s nothing.”
My lungs seized. The merger. Of course. That’s why he proposed. That’s why he pretended to love me, why he put that ten carat ring on my finger and promised forever. My father, the CEO of Whitestone Enterprises, had made it clear in the press: marriage to Adrian Cole would unite two corporate empires. It was business to him, I didn't know it was to Adrian too until now.
They had used me like a pawn on a chessboard. And I had handed them the key to everything, convinced it was love.
I swallowed the scream bubbling in my chest. My tears blurred the screen as I ended the recording. Slowly, I eased the closet door shut. My heartbeat was a deafening roar in my ears.
I waited until their footsteps padded into the en suite bathroom. Then I slipped out, careful not to make a sound. My veil trailed behind me like a shroud. I moved on autopilot, driven by something cold and lethal that had replaced my soul.
It didn’t take long to find the videographer. His equipment was set up in the media suite down the hall, ready to edit the ceremony footage. He glanced up when I entered, his smile uncertain.
“Miss Whitestone? Is everything okay?”
I didn’t recognize my own voice when I spoke. It sounded calm. Almost pleasant. “Perfect. I would like to make a small substitution.”
He hesitated. “Substitution?”
I held out my phone. “Play this video in place of the wedding montage. When I give you the signal.”
He looked at the screen. His face blanched. “Miss Whitestone, I...I don’t think… ”
I stepped closer, my veil fluttering around me like a ghost’s lament. “You will. Or I’ll ensure you never work in this city again. Do you understand me?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. He nodded.
“Good.” My smile felt like a crack splitting my face. “I’ll be counting on you.”
I turned and walked away before the first sob could escape me. My heels clicked against the marble floor, each step a countdown to the end of everything I thought I knew.
At the end of the hallway, I stopped before the full length mirror. The reflection staring back didn’t look like me. Her face was pale, her mascara smudged into bruised shadows beneath her eyes. But her gaze was clear. Hard. Unbreakable.
I was done being the sacrificial lamb. Done being the sweet, accommodating daughter and the trusting fiancee.
Today, I’d show them all exactly what happened when you underestimated the woman you thought was too soft to fight back.
I lifted my chin, squared my shoulders, and walked toward the ceremony as the first chords of the wedding march began to play.
Let them smile. Let them think they’d won.
Because in less than an hour, their perfect little lie would explode for the entire world to see.
I was going to destroy the one thing that really mattered to Adrian Cole, his reputation.
EleanorThe morning sun broke through the gauzy curtains like a thief, slipping across my face and dragging me, unwillingly, into consciousness. I blinked against the light, momentarily disoriented. The sheets were tangled around me, a silky prison of confusion and twisted dreams. For a moment, I didn’t remember where I was.Then I heard the soft clink of porcelain from the other room.Damian. The villaThe board meetings. And the emotional whiplash that was now my daily reality.I sat up slowly, the sheets sliding off my bare arms. Last night replayed like a film behind my eyes the quiet dinner, the unexpected stories, the stolen glances. It had all felt... intimate. Too intimate. And I hated how easily I had let my guard drop, even for a secondI ran a hand over my face, trying to banish the lingering heat that clung to my skin like a secret. This wasn’t a vacation. This wasn’t a honeymoon. And Damian was not my lover, no matter how many times my traitorous mind tried to imagine ot
EleanorThe morning sun broke through the gauzy curtains like a thief, slipping across my face and dragging me, unwillingly, into consciousness. I blinked against the light, momentarily disoriented. The sheets were tangled around me, a silky prison of confusion and twisted dreams. For a moment, I didn’t remember where I was.Then I heard the soft clink of porcelain from the other room.Damian. The villaThe board meetings. And the emotional whiplash that was now my daily reality.I sat up slowly, the sheets sliding off my bare arms. Last night replayed like a film behind my eyes the quiet dinner, the unexpected stories, the stolen glances. It had all felt... intimate. Too intimate. And I hated how easily I had let my guard drop, even for a secondI ran a hand over my face, trying to banish the lingering heat that clung to my skin like a secret. This wasn’t a vacation. This wasn’t a honeymoon. And Damian was not my lover, no matter how many times my traitorous mind tried to imagine ot
DamianI should have looked away.Should’ve ignored the imprint of her lips on the rim of the wineglass. Should have focused on my food, on the real reason we were in this place halfway across the world. But Eleanor had a way of slipping beneath my skin without even trying. And it was getting harder to pretend I didn’t feel it.She was supposed to be my assistant. My distraction free, logic driven assistant who always had a clipboard and a schedule and zero tolerance for my nonsense. But lately... she was something else entirely. Complicated. Soft. Unpredictably magnetic.I watched her walk away, claiming it was jet lag. Liar.I saw it in her eyes, how she clutched her wineglass like it might anchor her. How she pulled her guard back up like armor. She was running. And I couldn’t even blame her.Because I was doing the same thing. I leaned back in my chair and let out a breath, staring at the empty spot where she had been sitting minutes ago. Her laugh, once sharp and dry, had turned
EleanorThe table was quiet, save for the soft clinks of silverware against porcelain. A rare thing, silence especially with me. Normally, I filled the room with quick wit and sarcastic comebacks, masking discomfort with carefully timed jokes. But tonight? I didn’t have it in me.Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the jet lag. Or maybe it was the man sitting across from me.There was an impressive spread between us, grilled fish, spiced rice, and sautéed noodles in rich sauces. The kind of meal that would usually have me humming with delight and demanding seconds. But I barely tasted anything.Damian sat across from me, a man who always seemed larger than life. Brooding, sharp jawed, impossibly wealthy and even more impossibly private. A man I had worked beside for years, trading clipped emails, strategic conversations, and the occasional deadpan joke. But never this. Never... dinner.He was watching me now, not with the cold calculation I was used to, but something gentler. Curious.
Eleanor“Sorry,” I murmured, my voice cracking slightly as I took a careful step back from Damian. The tremor in my voice betrayed me, it gave away more than I wanted him to see.His eyes met mine. “Be careful,” he said, and something in his tone shifted richer, lower. A gravelly thread of heat rippled through the words, and suddenly, I knew.He wasn’t unaffected.That brief moment, my body pressed against his, my palm flat on his chest, his arm steadying my waist had hit him too. Maybe not quite the same way, maybe he was better at masking it, but I felt it. The heat, the tension. I saw the flicker in his eyes.And that didn’t make this any easier. If anything, it made things far worse.I twisted the engagement ring around my finger like it was a worry stone. The motion was familiar, grounding. And I clung to it because I needed the reminder.This isn’t real.I didn’t need a relationship. Not with Damian, not with anyone. I didn’t want to belong to someone. I didn’t want anyone to ow
Eleanor Late into the night, the private jet touched down on Koh Samui and I felt a tight knot simmering in my chest. I knew Damian ran things like clockwork, but seeing it in action, jet, driver, limousine waiting in the humid dark drove home how completely he controlled the narrative. It was impressive. And unnervingly efficient.I took a deep breath of the warm, salty air, letting it slide past me as I entered the stretch limo. Heat, humidity, tropical life mashing together in an overload of sensation… and I still felt icy around the edges. Damian sank into the seat beside me, his posture relaxed, sleeves rolled up to reveal sun kissed forearms that made my skin clench with a cocktail of admiration and self loathing.He leaned over and whispered, “Don’t feel the limo is cliché?”My gaze drifted across the cool leather interior. I ran my fingertips over it. “It’s a bit much.” I kept my tone casual businesslike, not breathy.He chuckled. “Practical. Privacy. Room to work.” Then his
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