Mag-log in"Don’t call me by that name. Camila Wilson died on the very night you tore the canvas of her life to pieces." Damian Xavier, a heartless titan of industry, committed the greatest mistake of his life: he cast away his pregnant wife for the sake of his cold ambition. Five years later, Damian has become obsessed with a ghost. He is haunted by the masterpieces of a mysterious painter known only as Sheina Blake. Sheina’s paintings are ethereal and haunting, bleeding with the raw emotions of betrayal and magnificent rebirth. Damian is willing to pour out millions just for a chance to meet the artist, hoping her soul-stirring work can fill the void rotting inside him. Little does he know, Sheina Blake is Camila Wilson—the ex-wife he once deemed worthless. The woman he discarded like trash has now become the only deity he worships. When fate finally brings them face-to-face, Damian doesn't find the fragile girl he once broke. He stands before Sheina Blake—a cold, powerful woman who has everything, including a genius son who holds au paintbrush with the same lethal authority Damian uses to rule his empire. "You wish to buy my work, Mr. Xavier? Unfortunately, you will never be able to afford the price of the pain captured in these strokes."
view moreBeatrice slammed her tablet down onto the desk. Her face looked cold, but her mind was working quickly. She began arranging her plan carefully, like placing pieces on a chessboard. Every move had to be precise. There was no room for mistakes. For her, Leon was not just a child. He was part of the Xavier family, an heir that had to be secured. But Sheina, or Camila, was someone she did not want to exist. She wanted Leon, but she intended to get rid of Camila. “Assistant,” Beatrice called without turning her head. Her voice was firm and impossible to argue with. “Do not let Damian find out that I am investigating that child. If he knows, he will act without thinking. His guilt will only ruin everything.” Her assistant nodded quickly. He was already used to Beatrice’s cold and calculated way of working. “I want all the evidence in my hands first,” Beatrice continued. “Before Damian has the chance to run a DNA test or take action on his own.” “As I understand, My Lady,” the assistan
The Xavier family mansion felt quieter than usual that morning. In the spacious dining room, Lady Beatrice sat alone at the end of a long table made of expensive teak wood. A luxurious breakfast was served in front of her, but she did not touch any of it. Her full attention was on several newspapers spread across the table. On the front page, there was a photo of Damian kissing Sheina Blake in the lobby of the Peninsula Hotel. Beatrice stared at the photo with narrowed eyes. For others, it might just be a scandal. But for Beatrice, it was a serious threat to the Xavier family’s reputation. “He has truly lost his mind,” she muttered quietly, her voice cold and filled with disapproval. Beatrice was not someone who believed in coincidences. Sheina’s sudden appearance, her resemblance to Camila, and the way Damian had changed so drastically all felt like part of a carefully planned scheme. She picked up her phone and dialed a number that was not saved in her contacts. “Come to
The room suddenly felt extremely cold, as if freezing air had filled the entire luxurious suite. Damian stood frozen in place, his breathing heavy and uneven. The words he had just spoken—that Sheina was Camila and Leon was his son—still hung in the air, creating intense pressure. On the other side, Sheina felt her head spin. Hearing Leon’s name spoken with such a strong sense of ownership instantly triggered her instinct as a mother to protect her child. Sheina laughed. But it wasn’t a happy laugh. It sounded hollow, even slightly mocking. “You’ve really gone crazy, Damian,” she said. Her voice sounded steady, even though chaos was raging inside her. She quickly walked to the small table in the corner of the room. Her hands trembled slightly as she opened her leather bag and took out an old brown folder—the one she had always kept to protect herself and Leon. Without hesitation, she threw the folder onto the bed, right in front of Damian. “Open it,” she said sharply. “See for
Julian stopped in his tracks and looked at Sheina seriously. He could clearly see the fear in her eyes—fear she rarely showed. “It’s too late to leave quietly, Sheina,” Julian said softly but firmly. “If Damian has already seen the news, he’s definitely on his way here. He might even… already be downstairs.” Sheina fell silent for a moment, her hands freezing mid-fold. Her breathing grew heavy, her chest rising and falling unevenly. “Then we have to be faster,” she replied, forcing herself to stay calm. “I can’t face him right now. Not yet.” Julian let out a breath. He understood Sheina’s condition, but he wasn’t sure this was the best decision. “I’ll get the car ready at the back entrance,” Julian said finally. “We’ll leave through the staff exit. It’s safer.” Sheina nodded quickly. “Where’s Leon?” “In the next room, with his nanny.” Without waiting any longer, Sheina grabbed her bag. Her hands trembled slightly as she put important documents inside. Nothing could
That night, the Xavier estate in the Upper East Side looked like a palace bathed in candlelight, but to Sheina, it was nothing more than a magnificent prison holding the memories of her pain. As the car picking her up entered the towering iron gates, Sheina felt her chest tighten. However, she imme
The atmosphere inside Sheina Blake’s private studio, located in a renovated warehouse in a quiet industrial district of London, was thick with tension. There was no outward display of luxury, yet inside, the space was vast, featuring high ceilings and massive windows that framed the overcast gray
John F. Kennedy International Airport was shrouded in a thin mist as Julian Thorne’s private jet touched down. Inside the VIP terminal, Damian Xavier was already waiting. He hadn’t sent a driver. He stood there alone, dressed in a formal black suit without a tie, hands buried in his pockets. His g
Cornwall in winter was no place for those seeking warmth. Its sky was a heavy, leaden gray, resembling the color of cold metal, and the winds from the Atlantic Ocean battered the stone cliffs with a roar like that of a starving monster.Damian stood before St. Jude’s Church, an ancient stone struct












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