LOGINLena Rowan, a struggling art student is blackmailed into posing as the comatose girlfriend of ruthless billionaire Damon Hale-- a man who believes she caused the accident that left his real girlfriend Amara in a coma. He despises her for what he thinks she's done and she loathes him for the way he uses her as a pawn. But when forced to live under the same roof, hatred becomes Obsession, and obsession begins to look dangerously like love. And more importantly, what happens when his real girlfriend wakes up?
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First of all, thank you for clicking on this story, it honestly means more than you know. There are so many books out there, and the fact that you chose to stop here, even for a moment, means a lot. I’m still learning my way around GoodNovel. I’m figuring out how the app works, how readers interact, and how to keep up with updates. So, if you’re reading this early on, you’re part of the beginning of my journey here. You’re helping me build something from the ground up. I’ll be releasing chapters in small batches — sometimes two a day if I can but I don’t want to rush it. I’d rather give you something complete and worth reading than something that feels half done. I’m balancing real life and writing, so please bear with me. If you enjoy what you read, leaving a short comment, a vote, or even a simple emoji really helps. It keeps the story visible to others and reminds me that people are actually following along. Every small interaction counts more than you think. Right now, I’m focused on consistency. I want to keep the flow steady and make sure you don’t have to wait too long for the next update. I’m also working on keeping the chapters clean, improving my pacing, and staying true to the characters. Writing online is a learning process, and I’m taking it one chapter at a time. It’s been only a few days since I started — my fifth day, actually and there are already thirty-eight readers following this story. That might not sound like much, but to me, it’s huge. It means real people have read my words and decided to stay. I can’t thank you enough for that. I know every author says this, but I really mean it: your support matters. When you leave a comment, I see it. When you vote, it helps more than you realize. Those small moments of encouragement make me want to keep writing, even on the days when it’s hard. This story might not be perfect, but it’s honest. Every chapter is written with effort and thought. Some parts may move fast, others a bit slower but that’s how stories breathe. I hope, somewhere in between, you find something that sticks with you. --- PREFACE Before you start, I want to say this clearly: This is a work of fiction. Everything you’ll read — the names, places, businesses, and events comes from imagination. Some details may feel familiar, but they’re not taken from real life. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, or to actual events, is purely coincidental. This story is meant for entertainment. It’s not based on anyone’s personal life or experiences. I decided to include this note because I know how easily people connect fiction to reality, and I’d rather say it upfront. The goal here is just to tell a story. Nothing more, nothing less. Thank you again for giving this a chance. Whether you read one chapter or stay till the end, I appreciate you being here. I’m learning, improving, and building this story in real time, and having even one reader who sticks around makes it worth it. So, welcome. Enjoy the story, take your time with it, and feel free to share your thoughts as you read along. — RINA BALDWINGrief, Lena learned, did not arrive all at once.It came in waves—quiet mornings, empty chairs, voices remembered more clearly than faces.Gregory Hale passed away on a Tuesday, gentle rain tapping against the windows of the private ward. Leukemia had thinned him, hollowed his once-commanding presence, but not his spirit. In his final weeks, he asked for very little. Just Damon. Just Lena.He held their hands—one in each of his frail palms—and smiled, slow and knowing.“You found each other the wrong way,” he told them softly, breath labored but eyes bright. “But sometimes life only reveals truth through chaos.”He blessed them then. Not formally. Not ceremonially. Just a nod, a squeeze, and a whisper that sounded like peace.When he was gone, the house felt different. Quieter. Larger somehow. Damon mourned in silence, Lena beside him, learning that love sometimes meant simply staying when there were no words left to say.Richard Wren in the other hand never made it out. The news came
They were escorted back the same way they had been led out—except now the path felt narrower, louder, charged.Amara walked slightly ahead, shoulders squared, chin lifted, flanked by two officers whose presence was firm but respectful. Lena followed beside Damon, wrapped briefly in his arms when they crossed the threshold back into the auditorium, her body still trembling as if the cold from the abandoned yard had lodged itself in her bones.The doors opened.And the room erupted.The ruckus hit them like a physical force—voices overlapping, chairs scraping, the brittle sound of disbelief cracking through silk and crystal. It was the same elegant chaos they’d left behind, but transformed now into something raw and uncontained.Gasps rippled outward as they passed.“There’s two of them?”“Nonsense. How could there be two?”“Are they sisters?”“Twins.”The whispers weren’t whispers at all. They chased Amara’s back, clung to Lena’s silhouette, bounced off the chandeliers like echoes refu
Just then, the sharp, deliberate clink of a spoon against glass cut cleanly through the ballroom’s hum. Conversation stilled. Laughter faded mid-breath. Even the orchestra softened instinctively as all eyes turned toward the source. Gideon Vale was already moving toward the stage. When he reached the podium, he placed one hand lightly on the edge, waited—patient, practiced—until silence settled fully. He cleared his throat. “I, um… wanted to thank everyone for honoring my invitation tonight,” he began, voice smooth but carrying just enough tension beneath it. “And for considering my gala worthy of your time. V. R. S—” Amara’s phone vibrated in her hand. Her breath caught. She glanced down at the screen. It was Richard. Her fingers tightened around the device as she leaned closer to Damon, her lips barely moving. “It’s Richard.” Damon’s jaw clenched instantly. “He’s here?” “I think so,” she murmured. They began to drift sideways, slow and unremarkable, the way people did when
LaterShe spotted Gideon across the ballroom, half-turned toward a small cluster of patrons, his posture relaxed again, smile carefully measured. They hadn’t spoken since his abrupt departure earlier, and the longer she watched him, the more she felt the window closing. This was it. If she waited any longer, he’d slip away again—into shadow, into control.She smoothed her dress, lifted her chin, and walked over.“Hello,” she said lightly, interrupting their conversation. “I hope I didn’t interrupt?”All three of them turned. Gideon’s eyes flicked to her face, lingering just a second too long before he masked it.“No, not at all,” one of the women said warmly. She looked to be in her mid-fifties, draped in an elegant champagne-colored gown that skimmed her frame effortlessly. The fabric shimmered subtly under the ballroom lights, paired with pearl earrings and a matching bracelet that suggested old money rather than ostentation. Her hair was swept into a neat chignon, silver threaded d












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