Winter thought the worst thing was being replaced with her cousin… until she crashed the company’s luxury retreat, almost drowned, and woke up pretending to have amnesia—right in front of the man who humiliated her. Now she’s stuck playing fake fiancée and sharing a room with a sexy stranger who clearly hates her guts… but can’t stop staring at her lips like he wants to ruin her. With an ex who suddenly cares way too much, her dream career on the line, and revenge heating up faster than the resort’s hot tubs, Winter is about to turn heartbreak into the most unforgettable comeback of the year. But there’s just one twist: her fake fiancé is actually the new billionaire chairman of the company… and he’s falling for her, hard.
View MoreWINTER
I pack my bags like I’m going to paradise, which, technically, I am. Thirty days of sun, wine, and couple-friendly activities at the Golden Retreat. I’m already picturing paddle-boarding, moonlit dinners, and maybe one of those couple spa sessions where they scrub your sins away. I step out of the house, glowing like a pre-honeymoon goddess in a sundress and lip gloss, only to find Mike at the car, zipping up the trunk with military precision and a face like I just told him I swallowed his promotion. He frowns. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I blink. “Um… packing? Dressing up? Getting ready to go to the annual Golden Retreat? The one your company Valcour International is hosting? The one themed around love and romance and bring-your-significant-other-or-you’ll-regret-it-for-life?” He sighs, long and deep, like I’m a toddler asking for cake before dinner. “Winter, are you seriously leaving your three jobs to go have fun for thirty days? That’s irresponsible. What if you get fired? What about your bills?” I smile like someone on the edge of violence. “Oh, that’s what you’re worried about? Relax, I planned for this. I worked overtime for months. All three jobs approved my time off. My bills are paid. My cats are fed. My soul is moisturized. I’m free, Mike.” He shakes his head slowly. “Yeah… no. I can’t take you with me.” I Pause. “What did you just say?” I ask, suddenly forgetting how to breathe through my nose. “You can’t come,” he repeats, avoiding my eyes. I feel my face twitch. “Okay. I saw the retreat post seven months ago on Valcour’s I*******m. It clearly said partners are required. That includes wives, girlfriends, fiancées, emotional support humans....whatever. I’ve been your fiancée for five years, Mike. If you're not taking me… who are you taking?” He rubs his temples. His anger flares like he’s the victim here. “So now you’re stalking me on social media?” “What? No. I follow Valcour because....hello...I want to work there as a fashion designer one day. That post was public! And you’re deflecting.” I cross my arms. “You promised, Mike. Two years ago, you said you weren’t qualified. Then you got promoted, but last year, you went alone. You said you’d take me this year. You promised.” His expression softens. For a second, I think he’s going to say sorry. Maybe even pull me into a hug. Instead, he does what Mike does best: disappoint creatively. He places his hands on my shoulders like I’m a child he’s about to send to boarding school. “You need to understand me, dear. I already promised to take someone else. I can’t break my word.” “Oh. But you can break your word to me?” “You’re my future wife,” he says, tone so rational I want to scream. “We’re getting married in six months. You should be understanding, Winter. Do you really want your husband to look bad in front of people?” I stare at him like he’s grown two extra heads. “Mike. Who are you taking?” He doesn’t flinch. “Your cousin, Olivia.” My mouth drops open. My ears short-circuit. I stare at him, waiting for the punchline. Nothing. “You’re taking Olivia?” I gasp. “Instead of me?” “She’s your cousin,” he snaps, suddenly defensive. “Can’t you be more considerate?” “I’m sorry....what?” He sighs again. “You know her health isn’t great....” My grip tightens around the suitcase handle. Here comes the pity Olympics. “Her parents died....” "Twenty-five years ago, Mike. They didn’t die yesterday." “She’s had a hard life, Winter. You have everything but she has nothing. Don’t compete with her. She’s been through a lot. And she... she needs this more than you do. You’ll understand someday. You always do.” My heart doesn’t just clench. It tap dances on broken glass. He checks his watch, like this emotional mugging is making him late. “I’m leaving, okay? I don’t want to miss the group photo. See you in a month.” And just like that, he kisses my cheek, gets into the car, and drives off... to a romantic retreat I was supposed to be on, that I basically discovered first. I stand there, in my best heels, with a suitcase full of unbothered outfits and a heart full of pain, watching the man I love disappear into the sunrise like my feelings didn't matter at all.WINTERI don’t know how long I’ve been out, but when I open my eyes, I’m in a hospital room that’s so fancy, even the IV drip looks designer. Seriously...if this is what passing out gets me, I might start doing it more often.Except… there are like twenty faces staring at me. Right in my face. No personal space. Just eyeballs. Everywhere.My heart skips...Wait. Mike. Olivia. And—great—Mr. Tall and Rude is here too, standing in a corner like a Greek statue sculpted out of arrogance.Olivia’s got that smug “oops, did I push her?” look. Mike is fuming like I broke his heart. The rude guy’s expression? Blank. Like I’m interrupting his lunch break. Everyone else is just rubbernecking like this is a Netflix premiere.I consider throwing a slipper. But then I remember...If I blow up now, Mike might get me kicked out of the resort before I ever meet the chairman of Valcour International.Nope. Not today, Satan.So I blink, clear my throat dramatically, and say,“Um… who are all of you? Why
WINTER“Babe,” I say the second Blair stops cackling about my feelings for Mike. “I need a favor.”She goes silent... which is never a good sign.“Let me guess,” she says slowly. “You want me to buy you a room in the resort’s presidential suite and sneak you spa coupons?”“Better,” I grin. “I need you to help me tow my car back to my house.”Her groan is so loud I have to hold the phone away from my ear.“Winter! You drove that haunted Audi all the way into another world and now you want me to tow it back? Do I look like a roadside mechanic? Am I your sugar daddy?”“You’re my best friend. Which means you're all of the above.”“Ugh! The things I do for friendship,” she huffs. “Send me the location. I’ll sort it out after work.”“Thank you!” I blow her a dramatic kiss. “I’ll name my first child after you. Even if it’s a boy.”“Girl, just promise the car won’t explode when I touch it.”“Can’t make promises I can’t keep.”We laugh, exchange some ridiculous threats of emotional blackmail,
WINTERMy phone starts ringing suddenly.I check the screen. Blair Fisher, my best friend and part-time therapist, full-time drama queen.“Girl!” she squeals the second I answer. “Are you already living your best life at that sexy resort? Don’t lie. I want details.”I sigh so hard I feel my lungs collapse a little. “Don’t even start. You wouldn’t believe the nonsense I’ve been through.”“Oh God. What happened?”So I tell her. All of it.How Mike pulled a disappearing act when it was time to leave. How he chose Olivia. Again. How Olivia drove up to my house in a Range Rover like Cruella de Vil, almost ran me over, and then tried to choke me with her golden smugness.By the time I’m done ranting, Blair is full-on cussing.“I hope they both choke on organic resort grapes,” she snaps. “You’re too damn nice, Winter. That’s your problem. You keep playing support role in your own movie.”I snort. “Please. Better than being delusional about a mystery man you met once in a grocery store and bu
WINTERI hit the road like I’m on a mission from the universe...just me, my dusty Audi, and a playlist full of songs I’m too stressed to sing along to. She—yes, I’ve named the car “she”—isn’t moving as fast as I’d like, but we’re moving. That’s what matters.An hour in, I feel confident.Three hours in, I feel hungry.By the fifth hour, I’ve officially learned a valuable life lesson:Never trust anyone who says Google Maps never lie.I’ve taken two gas stops, one emergency tyre fix...shoutout to my crusty old spare...and at least one snack break that turned into a minor existential crisis.Seven hours on the road, and just when I think we’re almost there… she gives up on me.The car coughs once and then dies.I try everything: pep talk, dashboard tapping, twisting random wires like I know what I’m doing. She doesn’t budge.“You traitor,” I mutter. “This is what I get for defending you.”But just as I’m about to panic, I look ahead...and there it is.Paradise Resort.In all its gloriou
WINTER"What exactly do I have?"I whisper the question under my breath as I drag my suitcase back toward the house. My arms ache. My pride aches more.Seven years. That’s how long I’ve been with Mike. Seven years of loving him, feeding him, funding his education, and believing that we were building something real.Back then, he was scraping by on noodles and excuses. I was a scholarship student with a diabetic mother and a kid sister in high school. I worked three jobs just to keep the lights on at home. Still, I gave Mike everything—money, time, love—because I believed in us.He had nothing. I made sure he had something.I paid for his courses, helped him through his PhD. He got the dream job at Valcour International—my dream company, the place I wanted to work as a fashion designer. And when he bought a house, I moved in with him. When he proposed, I thought I’d won.But the day I introduced him to my cousin Olivia at the supermarket was the day everything began to rot.After that,
WINTERI pack my bags like I’m going to paradise, which, technically, I am. Thirty days of sun, wine, and couple-friendly activities at the Golden Retreat. I’m already picturing paddle-boarding, moonlit dinners, and maybe one of those couple spa sessions where they scrub your sins away.I step out of the house, glowing like a pre-honeymoon goddess in a sundress and lip gloss, only to find Mike at the car, zipping up the trunk with military precision and a face like I just told him I swallowed his promotion.He frowns. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”I blink. “Um… packing? Dressing up? Getting ready to go to the annual Golden Retreat? The one your company Valcour International is hosting? The one themed around love and romance and bring-your-significant-other-or-you’ll-regret-it-for-life?”He sighs, long and deep, like I’m a toddler asking for cake before dinner. “Winter, are you seriously leaving your three jobs to go have fun for thirty days? That’s irresponsible. What if
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