LOGINMy life shattered before my eyes: my fiancé with my stepsister, my career in ruins. Then, Alexander Lockwood appeared. The reclusive billionaire offered me a way out; a contract to be his wife. It was the perfect deal. He needed a partner to secure his empire. I needed the power and resources to rebuild mine. Our marriage was meant to be a transaction: cold, logical, and mutually beneficial. I just never read the clause about what happens when you fall in love with the man who’s hiding an unforgivable secret.
View MoreDays turned into a few weeks I was strong enough to leave the penthouse without assistance. “Are you sure about this?” Xander asked as I put on my coat. “You don’t have to confront him alone. I can come with you.” “No. If you’re there, he’ll shut down completely. He’ll suspect something.” I checked my reflection in the mirror. “This needs to be just me and him.” Xander had spent the past three days showing me everything he’d collected on Alistair Pembroke. Documents. Financial records. Email trails. A paper trail of fraud and deception that went back years. But it wasn’t enough for a criminal case. Just enough for a civil suit. Enough to hurt Alistair financially, but not enough to put him in prison. I wanted more. I wanted him to pay for what he’d done to Arthur Lockwood. “At least take this.” Xander held out a small device. “It’s a panic button. If anything happens, if you feel threatened at all, just press it and my security team will be there in minutes.” I took it, slipp
“There’s something else I need to talk to you about,” I said.“Anything.”“Your father.”Xander went very still. “My father?”“Arthur. And what my father did to him.” I picked up Eleanor’s letter, looking at the neat handwriting. “Xander, I’ve been thinking about this all week. About the fraud. About what Alistair did.”“Diana, you’re not responsible for your father’s actions.”“I know that. But I’m also not going to pretend it didn’t happen. Or that it wasn’t terrible.” I met his eyes. “Your father died because of what mine did. That’s a fact. And it’s not okay.”“What are you saying?”“I’m saying I want justice for Arthur.”Xander stared at me. “Justice?”“Yes. Your father was defrauded. He lost everything. He died of a heart attack because of the stress and devastation of what my father did to him.” I set down the letter. “That shouldn’t just be swept under the rug.”“Diana, I’m not asking you to—”“I know you’re not asking. I’m offering.” I took his hand. “Xander, your plan was to
On the eighth day, the doorbell rang.I was in the living room, reading a book Xander had brought me the day before. He was in his office, taking a video call he’d tried to postpone until I insisted he handle at least some business.“I’ll get it,” I called out.His head appeared in the doorway immediately. “You don’t have to. I can—”“Xander, I can answer the door. I’m not an invalid.”He looked like he wanted to argue but nodded. “Okay. But if you need anything—”“I’ll let you know.”I opened the door to find Vivienne standing in the hallway, holding a gift basket wrapped in cellophane.She looked uncertain, almost nervous. An expression I’d never seen on her face before.“Diana. Hi. I hope I’m not intruding.”“Vivienne. No, you’re not. Come in.”She stepped inside, glancing around like she hadn’t been here a thousand times before. “How are you feeling?”“Better. Much better.”“Good. That’s good.” She held out the basket. “I brought you some things. Tea. Honey. That organic granola y
Three days passed in a blur of rest and routine. Xander was relentless in his care. Breakfast appeared at exactly eight every morning, delivered to my room with fresh flowers and a handwritten note. Lunch at noon. Dinner at six. Each meal carefully planned, nutritionally balanced, and far better than anything I would have made for myself. He never pushed. Never pressured. Just knocked softly on the guest room door, waited for permission to enter, and sat with me while I ate. Sometimes we talked. Small things. Safe things. How I was feeling. What the nurse had said during her visits. Whether the food was okay. Sometimes we sat in silence, and that was okay too. On the fourth day, I felt strong enough to leave the guest room. I found Xander in the kitchen supervising and assisting the housekeeper while she was preparing lunch. He looked up when I entered, surprise crossing his face. “Diana. Should you be up? Do you need help?” “I’m fine. I can walk from the bedroom to the kitche












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