LOGINElena Carter was supposed to paint her future in color. Instead, she’s trapped in a marriage built on power, legacy, and lies. Forced to wed billionaire playboy Julian Blackwood to secure a family alliance, Elena finds herself in a cold, loveless union with a man who barely looks at her—let alone cares. But Elena is a hopeless romantic, a dreamer clinging to the memory of a boy who once promised her the world. And Julian is distant and indifferent, has no interest in love or fairy tales. As Elena tries to make the impossible work, secrets begin to stir beneath the surface of their fractured marriage. And karma always finds its way home.
View MoreVivienne’s POV
I was in the hospital corridor when all that ruffled over me were the words of the doctor. “Mrs.Vivienne, the tumor in your brain has already pressed into your nerves. You must make a decision as soon as possible.” My hands trembled. With such force, I held onto the shattered medical report with my hand, crushing all the bitter truth inside. In recent times, I've been experiencing severe headaches that have caused me to vomit. Occasionally, nosebleeds would appear suddenly. I initially believed it was fatigue or a mild illness caused by too much stress and sleep deprivation. It was unexpected to realize that all those symptoms were just the beginning of a nightmare, as the test results indicated the presence of an abnormal growth in my brain. My physician recommended two treatments that I should consider. Only 50 percent of patients in craniotomy surgery will be successful. My life could potentially extend beyond its current lifespan if it were to be successful. Otherwise, I might never wake up from the operating table again. My treatment options could be conservative, with medication and chemotherapy being the only options available. Still, it would involve losing my hair, going bald, and only remaining alive for a few more years due to my body's gradual decline. To be honest, I was terrified by the 50 percent. Since I was a child, I had been afraid of needles. The task of administering scalpels and undergoing surgery with a cold instrumentation could determine my survival or death. Unless I had surgery, the tumor would continue to grow and cause me significant pain that ultimately led to my demise. I closed my eyes. It was then that I could picture my husband, who is of Julian's face. Seven years had passed since we became husband and wife. I cherished his presence and wanted to extend my relationship. Later on, a picture of my son Maximilian Fitzgerald was taken. The bright and attractive son who is the shining light of my life. I felt brave when I thought about them both. I couldn't just give up. Having summoned all the might, I returned to my physician and declared: “Doctor, I've made my decision. Would it be possible for me to undergo craniotomy surgery?” My doctor glared at me with seriousness and stated, "The success rate is only fifty percent. Aren't you afraid?" I smiled smugly and replied, "None. I have faith that my husband and son will accompany me. I'm not afraid of anything as long as I have them.” With a nod, the doctor said, "Very well. You can schedule the surgery within a month with my assistance.” The hospital left me with a shaken heart, but I was optimistic nonetheless. I ran for home, hoping my husband and son would join me. When I arrived, the maid informed me that Julian was at the company. Nonetheless. The Fitzgerald Group was where I immediately went, without any hesitation. I was about to enter the president's office when I heard a voice. The man appeared in front of it. “If you made Ophelia your secretary, wouldn't it be shocking to Julian?” I froze. From inside the doorway, I observed Dylan who was Julian's close friend sitting nearby. Ophelia Ersya. I was struck by that name like lightning. How could it not? She was the woman Julian had been in love with for a decade before finally finding her. My gaze remained fixed on Julian's desk as I breathed deeply. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the collar of his black shirt was slightly undone. He seemed like a married man, feeling cold and composed. His voice was sly. “That's not your concern, Dylan." With a grimace and an awkward expression, Dylan proceeded to say. "I've only ever addressed Vivienne as your wife out of respect. But, everyone around you knows your marriage is a hoax! The marriage certificate that you and your partner possess is not genuine! I'm glad you fashioned it! Haha!” There was no indication of a turning point in the world. My visage became pale, and I froze in the entrance hall as if struck by a lightning bolt. What did I just hear? Was Julian merely pretending to be my spouse? Julian looked back at the door without realizing I was there. Dylan remained curious, his voice echoing with excitement. "What the hell is up Julian? Are you planning to get rid of Vivienne, with Ophelia having her back? My chest tightened as if by magic. The words spoken by Dylan soon made me feel sharp as a knife. I was terrified. Vivienne's actions during her drunken seduction could have been avoided if she hadn't become pregnant and pretended to marry her for the sake of the child. It'll save their marriage. Ophelia was left heartbroken by it. She has only returned now because she's made a full recovery. I covered my mouth in an attempt to alleviate the nausea that was brewing inside. It was hard in my head and it started shaking all over me." I remembered that night clearly. We had been drinking at the bar and we were there, too, with Dylan. Julian was fully cognizant of the fact that I never drugged him. Julian's business rival had done it. It was a mistake. It was I who volunteered to stay with Julian that night and rescue him. Why did Dylan choose to twist the narrative and make me turn into the antagonist? With a mocking expression, Dylan asked again, "When will you be ready to marry your daughter Ophelid and wed her in an opulent style with honor?" Without a diagnosis of heart condition, Ophelia would not have had any chance to succeed, as he cruelly added. The speaker was. She was excited because she didn't want to cause you any hardship. Her position as a spouse should have been your responsibility throughout. Eventually, Julian looked up in apparent anger. Dylan was advised to stop talking as his eyes were made sharp and cold. He said with clarity. “Vivienne and I are already carrying Maximilian.”“I still can’t believe we’re doing this.”Margot shoved a bundle of green onions into the cart like they’d personally offended her.I kept my eyes on the list in my hand, scanning for garlic. “It’s not that big of a deal.”“Oh, it’s a huge deal,” she shot back. “We are currently grocery shopping because you decided—based on advice from a man you’ve known for what, five minutes?—to cook for your emotionally-constipated husband who hasn’t been home in days.”I reached for a can of peeled tomatoes and dropped it into the cart. “He was just trying to help.”“Uh-huh. And now I’m elbow-deep in parsley because some mysterious café guy told you to ‘try differently.’”I smiled a little. “You remember exactly what he said.”“I remember nonsense when I hear it,” Margot muttered, adding basil to the cart anyway.I sighed. “Daniel wasn’t being preachy. He was being… decent. That’s rare.”She didn’t argue with that. Instead, she picked up a pack of pasta and raised an eyebrow. “Fettucine?”I nodded
Julian hadn’t come home in three days.He didn’t leave a note. No call. No apology. But then, he never did.I didn’t bother asking anymore. We were long past the point of pretending.The penthouse had been too quiet for too long. I had grown used to the hum of silence, but today it felt different. Heavy. Suffocating. It was the kind of silence that made you want to scream just to hear something human.So I left.No one stopped me. I didn’t need to explain where I was going—not that Julian would care. The elevator ride down felt like a slow descent into reality. One where I still existed, still breathed, still had the right to take up space.I wandered for a while, letting the city wrap around me in its usual blur of honking taxis and overheard conversations. Eventually, I found myself at that same little café, tucked between a bookstore and a shoe repair shop.The bell over the door chimed as I stepped inside.And there he was.Daniel.Sitting by the window again, a pencil in one hand
The next morning, I woke up feeling the same way I always did these days: heavy. It was as though lead had pooled in my chest overnight, weighing me down before I’d even had the chance to face the day. I stared at the ceiling for a few moments, letting the dim light filtering through the curtains wash over me. The silence of the penthouse made my ears ring. It was remarkable how loud nothingness could be.I sat up slowly, rubbing my temples before I swung my legs over the side of the bed. My toes brushed against the cool hardwood floor, and for a moment, I let myself stay like that—feet grounded, head bowed, trying to summon the strength to face another day.The memory of last night’s gala replayed in my mind like a cruel highlight reel. The forced smiles, the whispers behind our backs, Julian’s cold, detached presence by my side. And then that moment in the living room when I’d dared to ask him why he married me. His answer had been as cutting as it was predictable. “Because it was c
The car ride back to the penthouse was cloaked in an oppressive silence. The city lights blurred past the window as I stared out, my head resting against the cool glass. I could feel Julian’s presence beside me, distant yet heavy, like a storm cloud lingering on the horizon. He didn’t speak, and neither did I. What was there to say? We were two strangers bound by a contract, pretending to be a couple in love for the benefit of the world. The charade was exhausting, and tonight had drained me of whatever strength I had left. My gaze shifted slightly, catching his reflection in the window. He sat straight, his posture impeccable, his jaw set in that infuriatingly stern way that made him seem untouchable. His green eyes were fixed ahead, unreadable as always. I wondered what he was thinking. Did he feel the same suffocating weight I did? Or was he so detached that none of this affected him at all? The car pulled to a smooth stop in front of the building, and Julian was out before I coul






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