로그인“I am your guardian, Elara. Not your friend—and certainly not your uncle.” — Alaric Vance In a single night, Elara Thorne loses everything—her family, her fortune, and the life she once knew. Left with nothing but her name and a mountain of debt, she is forced into the custody of the one man she should fear the most: Alaric Vance. Her late father’s most ruthless protégé. The man she once admired from a distance. The man who now holds absolute control over her future. Inside Alaric’s glass-and-steel penthouse, Elara is trapped under his strict rules and cold authority. But beneath his calculated indifference lies something far more dangerous—a dark, possessive desire that blurs the line between protector and predator. The closer she gets to the truth, the more she realizes that Alaric isn’t just guarding the remnants of her family’s legacy… he may be the one who destroyed it. As forbidden tension ignites and secrets unravel, Elara must decide: is Alaric Vance her only salvation… or the very man who orchestrated her downfall?
더 보기ELARA POV The elevator climbed in a silence so heavy it felt like the air had been sucked out of the small space. I watched the floor numbers flicker on the display—70, 71, 72—my heart thumping in time with the soft mechanical hum. Beside me, Alaric stood perfectly still. He had loosened his collar earlier, but he still looked like a man made of stone. The scent of his cologne, a mix of rain-soaked wood and expensive leather, filled the small space, making my head spin. Every time the elevator jolted slightly, our shoulders brushed, sending a jolt through my skin that had nothing to do with the gala. When the doors finally chimed and slid open into the penthouse, I stepped out quickly, needing the open space. The floor-to-ceiling windows showed the city lights stretching out like a sea of diamonds, but the apartment felt darker than usual. "Elara." I stopped in the middle of the living room and turned around. Alaric was right behind me. He hadn't turned on the lights. He stood in
ELARA POV The silence between us after the blowout in his office was thick, but it wasn’t peaceful. It was the kind of silence that felt like a held breath. Alaric didn’t apologize for his coldness, and I didn’t apologize for my outburst. Instead, he simply left a garment bag hanging on my door the following afternoon with a note: Be ready by seven. The dress was emerald silk, floor-length, and probably cost more than my entire first-year tuition. As I stood in front of the full-length mirror, I felt like a fraud. I looked like a Thorne—polished, wealthy, and untouchable. But underneath the silk, I was just a girl living out of cardboard boxes in a stranger’s penthouse. When I stepped into the living room, Alaric was already waiting. He was dressed in a black tuxedo that fit him with agonizing precision. He was checking his watch, but he stopped when he saw me. His gaze travelled from the hem of my dress up to my face, lingering for a second on my lips before his expression smoot
ELARA POV The fourth night at the penthouse felt different. The initial shock of the funeral had worn off, replaced by a dull, aching reality. I had spent most of my days in the study, digging through the cardboard boxes Alaric’s team had salvaged. Every time I touched an old photo or smelled the faint lavender scent of my mother’s scarves, I felt like I was breaking all over again. Alaric was rarely there. He left before the sun came up and returned long after I had retreated to my room. Our only communication consisted of brief, functional texts: *“Dinner is in the warmer,”* or *“The driver will pick you up at three.”* I was headed to the kitchen to dispose of a empty takeout container when I heard his voice. It was coming from his office. The heavy oak door wasn't fully latched, leaving a thin sliver of light spilling onto the hallway carpet. "I don't care about the sentimental value, Marcus," Alaric’s voice was cold, professional, and terrifyingly final. "The market is peaking
ELARA POV The guest room was as cold as the man who owned it. I sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, my fingers tracing the hem of the silk robe I had found in the marble bathroom. Everything in Alaric Vance’s penthouse was shades of slate, charcoal, and glass. It felt more like a gallery than a home, and certainly not a place for someone who had just lost everything. My damp funeral clothes were folded neatly on a chair, a stark reminder of the mud and the graveside I had left just hours ago. I looked at the digital clock on the bedside table. 3:14 AM. The silence of the penthouse was heavy, broken only by the faint hum of the city seventy floors below. I was exhausted, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw the mahogany caskets and the cold, unyielding expression on Alaric’s face. Restless, I stood up and padded softly toward the kitchen. I needed water. My throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper. I didn't turn on the lights. The moonlight streaming through the floor-to




![His Hidden Wife [Borromeo Series Book 1]](https://www.goodnovel.com/pcdist/src/assets/images/book/43949cad-default_cover.png)

Welcome to GoodNovel world of fiction. If you like this novel, or you are an idealist hoping to explore a perfect world, and also want to become an original novel author online to increase income, you can join our family to read or create various types of books, such as romance novel, epic reading, werewolf novel, fantasy novel, history novel and so on. If you are a reader, high quality novels can be selected here. If you are an author, you can obtain more inspiration from others to create more brilliant works, what's more, your works on our platform will catch more attention and win more admiration from readers.