Masuk"I sold my soul to the devil to save my life, only to find out the devil wanted my heart.” “One year. No feelings. Just a contract. When the time is up, you leave with nothing.” Alessia Gabbs was the discarded "Jewel" of the Gabbs family, drugged and sold by her stepmother to pay off her father’s gambling debts. To escape a fate worse than death, she crawls into the suite of the most dangerous man in Elyndor City — Evander Martins, the cold-blooded "Emperor" of the Martins Corporation. She thought he was her temporary shield. He thought she was just another gold-digger. But when Alessia tears up his five-million-dollar check and demands a marriage certificate instead, the game changes. Under the silk sheets and behind the closed doors of the Martins Estate, a "contract" becomes a battlefield of desire. As her enemies conspire to ruin her and ghosts from the past return to claim Evander's heart, Alessia must decide: Is she a pawn in his corporate war, or is she the only woman capable of taming the beast? He thought he bought a wife. He didn’t realize he’d met his match.
Lihat lebih banyakEthan's stillness became deliberate — controlled down to his breathing, quiet enough to dissolve into the silence between them. When he finally spoke, no trace of reaction remained. Only focus.“What, exactly,” he asked, his voice measured, almost conversational, “can my grandfather offer that I wouldn’t?”A fractional pause followed as he held her gaze, steady and intent, as if measuring more than her words. “Did he mention something?”"No." Gabrielle turned to face him, and for the first time, he saw something unguarded in her expression—not vulnerability, but hunger. The hunger of someone who had been denied knowledge, denied access, denied the tools of survival, and who would now consume whatever was offered with absolute focus. "He said nothing. But… if I negotiate with him, don't you think he'd agree to teach me how this family operates? How power flows? Where the fractures lie?""And in exchange?""In exchange, I provide him with honest observation. Unfiltered analysis. The pe
The Shore Estate stirred at 4:47 AM with a disturbance it had not felt in days.Not the arrival of a storm. Not the intrusion of an enemy. Something far more calming—the early return of its master.Ethan's black Rolls-Royce Phantom carved through the mist-wrapped roads of Celios with the precision of a blade. He had not slept on the flight. Had not touched the meal prepared by his private chef. Had done nothing but review the documents of the Harver acquisition project that Welma had compiled during his transit, searching for cracks, for inconsistencies, for anything that might hinder the success of the project while he's away. The gates opened before he reached them. Recognition systems, biometric and otherwise, had long ago memorized his patterns.Welma stood at the entrance, immaculate as always, but Ethan caught the fractional tightening around his assistant's eyes. Surprise. Not at his return — Welma had arranged his transport — but at his velocity. An originally 15h 30m flight,
Morning at the Shore Estate slipped into afternoon with the quiet precision of a well-oiled machine. Servants moved like shadows through the corridors — silent, efficient, watchful. Rain tapped softly against the tall windows, a gentle reminder that Celios had not yet released its grip on the storm.Old Master Shore stood motionless by the floor-to-ceiling window of Ethan’s private study, his silver cane resting against the polished oak desk. The eastern gardens stretched below, every hedge and path trimmed with military exactness. Long shadows painted the lawn as afternoon light filtered through the clouds.A soft knock broke the silence.“Enter.”A composed young woman stepped inside, dressed in a crisp navy suit that fit her frame with exacting precision. She appeared no older than thirty, with sharp features and eyes that betrayed nothing. She closed the door quietly behind her.“You called for me, sir.”Old Master Shore did not turn immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the gar
Night had settled over Los Angeles with a quiet, glittering indifference.From thirty-two floors above the commercial district, the city looked almost artificial—light stitched into darkness, movement reduced to patterns, noise erased by distance.Ethan Shore stood motionless at the floor-to-ceiling window of his penthouse like a silent king surveying his indifferent kingdom. He had not slept in seventy-two hours.That, in itself, was not unusual.Insomnia had been his companion since the accident four years ago—a ruthless, persistent, disciplined enemy that returned each night and left behind nothing but a residue of exhaustion he had long ago learned to conceal.Typically, it was controlled — useful as he had learned to manage it. He worked. He read. He planned. Sleeplessness, for Ethan Shore, had always been a transaction—Rest sacrificed for advantage.But the past three nights had been different. The insomnia had changed. It was no longer productive. It was… restless.And restle
The Daniels House Gabrielle returned to the Daniels house the next morning. She went with the Shore name—and in the Shores' car. This power... though borrowed? Power is power and should be leveraged perfectly. Sentiment had no place here. She arrived at ten. A time when her father would be out.
Dr. Harlan arrived shortly after. Gabrielle was still in the library when Sable came to inform her. A soft knock sounded. “Madam, the doctor is here.” Gabrielle closed her notebook and rose. “Lead the way.” --- A few minutes later, she was seated in one of the downstairs lounges. Dr. Harlan s
The Shore Estate did not announce itself like other wealthy family estates. There were no marble lions at the gate. No fountains designed to intimidate. Just a long private road winding through old-growth oaks—the quiet patience of things that had existed long enough to stop proving themselves. An
The morning light in Celios was cold as it streaked through the windows of the Suite. Gabrielle stirred as consciousness returned. For a disoriented moment, she lay still, her mind assembling the room around her the way a broken mirror reassembles itself — shard by shard, nothing quite clean at t






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