The Billionaire's Forgotten Sin

The light hurt.That was the first thing I noticed, how the sunlight slicing through floor-to-ceiling windows felt like knives stabbing into my skull. I squeezed my eyes shut, groaning, my mouth tasting like something had died in it.My head throbbed with every heartbeat.Where was I...?I tried to move, but my body felt heavy, wrong. The sheets against my skin were too soft, Not mine. My sheets weren’t as soft as this.I forced my eyes open again, slower this time, letting them adjust to the brutal morning light. My vision swam, doubled, then slowly focused.Cream walls. Modern art, the pretentious kind that's just slashes of black on white canvas. A chandelier dripping with crystals that caught the light and scattered it across the ceiling like broken glass.This wasn't my apartment.My heart kicked once, hard, against my ribs.I pushed myself up on my elbows, and that's when I felt it, the cool air kissing my bare shoulders, my back, my…Oh God.I looked down.Naked. Completely nak

I stepped into the hallway and the world exploded."BELLA!"My whole body jerked, my hand still gripping the door frame to keep myself upright.No.No, no, no, this couldn't be happening.I turned my head, slow, like if I moved fast enough reality would shatter completely, and there he was.Marcus.My Marcus. My fiancé. The man I was supposed to marry in... I looked at my bare wrist where my watch should be, panic spiking... hours. Just hours from now.He was standing outside, still in his clothes from last night, jeans and the blue button-down I'd bought him for his birthday. His dark hair stuck up in every direction. His eyes were wild, red-rimmed like he hadn't slept.Behind him, Rachel. My best friend since college. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, her face pale and drawn. She was still wearing her dress from last night, the purple one we'd all picked together, but it was wrinkled now, stained with something dark down the front.They both stopped dead when they

Bella’s bag hit the floor and bounced, spilling its contents slightly. Pens, a notebook, keys and keyholders and a neatly folded folder scattered like her composure. Her fingers froze mid-reach, hovering above the items. She could barely breathe.He was looking at her. Really looking eyeball to eyeball. And it wasn’t just recognition, there was something sharper in his gaze, something cold, precise, and cutting. She couldn’t move nor could she speak. Her mind screamed at her to run, but her legs betrayed her, rooted to the spot like a tree caught in winter frost.Darian’s hands rested on the edge of the massive desk. He didn’t rush toward her; he didn’t need to. His presence alone was a wall, a pressure pressing down on her chest. All he could think of was how the same whore who cheated on her husband on their wedding day could dress so decently.Anyone who didn't know her, would think she's a well-mannered lady…wolf in sheep clothing indeed.Slowly, deliberately, he leaned back in

By the time Bella reached Rachel’s apartment, her body felt like it was running on fumes alone.Rachel lived on the third floor of an old building, the kind with narrow stairs and chipped railings. Bella climbed them slowly, her legs weak, every step echoing the humiliation she hadn’t been able to shake since the elevator doors at Dreven Industries had closed behind her.Rachel opened the door before Bella could knock.“Oh my God,” Rachel breathed. “Bella.”That was all it took.Bella stepped inside and collapsed into her arms.The anger she’d been holding together unravelled, spilling out in broken gasps. Rachel held her tightly, murmuring soft reassurances, guiding her to the couch like she had done a hundred times before in their friendship.“Sit,” Rachel said gently. “Just sit. You’re shaking.”Bella dropped onto the couch, her hands clenched together so tightly her fingers ached.Rachel disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. “Drink this.”Bella took it,

Darian’s thumb hovered over the dial button longer than it should have. The file on Bella’s desk still lay open, a silent accusation, but the phone had become the only tool that could give him clarity. He exhaled, pressed the number, and waited.The first call went to voicemail. Darian’s jaw tightened. He didn’t have time for incompetence.He pressed redial.Rings again. No answer.“Unbelievable,” he muttered. “I have other things to attend to, and you can’t even pick up your phone?”He slammed his finger down on the desk and dialed again.Each unanswered ring sent a spike of irritation through him. He wasn’t used to waiting. He didn’t like delays. And this lack of response, felt personal.Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a voice answered, crisp but tired.“Hello?”Darian leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “This is Darian Blackwood. I need to speak with whoever handled the booking for a woman named Bella Morrison on the night of the 12th. Immediately.”A pause on the line.“Ye