Cole’s POV"Emily."No response.I shook her slightly, my heart hammering."Emily, wake up. Come on."Still nothing.Her breathing was shallow, her skin too warm. The terror, the shock…it had all been too much for her."Damn it," I muttered, running a hand through my hair.The elevator was still moving up, but I barely noticed. All I could see was Emily, lying there, her face pale, her lips slightly parted.For years, I told myself I didn’t care about her. That what happened between us was in the past. But seeing her like this? Completely defenseless?It did something to me.I clenched my jaw, reaching forward. Without thinking, I slid my arms under her and lifted her against my chest.She was too still. Too quiet."Just hold on, okay?" I muttered under my breath.The elevator dinged. The doors slid open.And suddenly, we were met with chaos.A cluster of hotel staff and security stood outside, their faces twisted in panic. Some gasped. Others immediately rushed forward."Sir! Mr. Gre
Emily's POV.A groan slipped out before I could stop it. My head felt like it had been used as a punching bag, and my body ached in places I didn’t even know could ache. My throat was dry, my limbs stiff, and an odd tingling sensation ran through my arms.I blinked against the harsh sunlight streaming through the large windows, trying to remember where the hell I was. My vision blurred for a moment, then cleared just enough to make out the luxurious hotel room…the honeymoon suite, to be exact.And then I saw him.Cole.Sitting in a chair near the bed, legs stretched out lazily, arms crossed over his chest, watching me like he had all the time in the world. His expression was unreadable, but there was something about the way his lips curled at the corners, like he was amused.My stomach twisted. Why was he here?"You’ve got to be kidding me," I muttered, squeezing my eyes shut as if I could make him disappear by sheer willpower."Good morning to you too, sweetheart." His voice was deep
Emily's POV.Cole, to his credit, didn’t react immediately. He stood by the window, shoulders tensing just slightly, before he turned around with the calmness of a man who had dealt with this kind of chaos before.He exhaled through his nose, then walked toward Vanessa, completely unbothered. "It’s fine," he said, addressing the staff. "You can go.""But, sir, we tried to stop her…""I said it’s fine," Cole repeated, giving them a pointed look.The staff exchanged hesitant glances before bowing slightly and retreating out of the room, closing the door behind them.Now, it was just the three of us.Vanessa looked like she was about to explode. Her hands were shaking, her breaths coming in short gasps, and her perfectly manicured nails dug into her palms.Cole reached for her, his voice lowering. "Vanessa, calm down."She smacked his hand away. "Don’t you dare tell me to calm down!" Her voice cracked with emotion. "Do you have any idea how worried I was?!"Cole sighed and ran a hand th
Emily's POV.The car ride was silent except for the soft hum of the engine. I stared out the window, watching the city come alive under the morning sun. Skyscrapers, pedestrians, coffee shops, life was moving forward, and so was I.Cole and his pathetic little girlfriend were behind me now, exactly where they belonged.I leaned back against the seat, rubbing my temple. My dress still clung to my body, wrinkled and ruined from last night. The expensive fabric felt suffocating. My makeup…God, I didn’t even want to look at my face. I probably looked like something out of a horror movie.“Straight home, Miss Hart?” my driver, Leo, asked from the front seat.I thought about it. Home. What was that even supposed to mean? The mansion I grew up in? The penthouse I bought to escape that mansion? Or the prison of a hotel Cole trapped me in?“No,” I said. “Take me to the Ritz. I need a suite.”Leo nodded, no questions asked. That’s why I liked him. He did his job without treating me like a fragi
Cole's POV.The world was burning, and I was standing in the middle of it, phone in hand, watching my life collapse in real-time.Every major news outlet, every gossip blog, every social media platform was eating up the scandal like it was the juiciest story of the year."Emily Hart Walks Out on Cole Greyson Just 2 Days After Their Wedding!" "Hart Heiress Flees Honeymoon Suite – Trouble in Billionaire Paradise?" "Cole Greyson Left Behind as His Bride Vanishes!"The photos were everywhere—Emily walking out of the hotel, her posture elegant despite her ruined dress, make-up and birdnest of a hair. Even her expression was unreadable. The press had caught her getting into a black car. And her wedding ring nowhere in sight.Meanwhile, I was stuck here, trapped in this disaster of my own making.I exhaled sharply, gripping my phone so tightly my knuckles turned white.This was bad.The internet was a wildfire, and I was at the center of it. People were talking…laughing, judging, feasting
Cole's POV.I had always been a man who got what he wanted. Connections, wealth, influence…I had them all. But none of that mattered now if I couldn’t find Emily.The moment she walked out on me, my entire world had gone to hell. The media had gotten wind of the story. My father had called, yelling through the phone, making it clear that if Emily wasn’t back as my wife within 24 hours, Greyson Corps would be handed over to my cousin.I wasn’t about to let that happen.I had spent the entire day making calls, pulling every string I could. The best private investigators, cybersecurity experts, and even a few underground contacts…I spared no expense. I needed to find her before it was too late.By evening, I got a lead.She had checked into one of the most expensive hotels in the city. The irony wasn’t lost on me. She wasn’t hiding. She wasn’t running. She was waiting.For what?To watch me crumble? To see how far I would go?Whatever it was, I didn’t care.By 9 PM, I was standing outsid
Emily's POV.I stood by the window, arms crossed, my back to Cole. The city stretched out in front of me, lights blinking, cars moving, the world going on like nothing was wrong. Inside this room, though, the air was thick, suffocating. Cole stood behind me, his presence pressing against my back like a weight I refused to acknowledge. He had forced his way in, tracked me down like a desperate man clinging to something already gone.I didn’t turn around. I didn’t give him the satisfaction."Say whatever you want, Cole. It won’t change a damn thing," I said, reaching for the whiskey bottle on the counter. I poured myself a drink, the liquid steadying me.But Cole wasn’t leaving. His father’s threats must have been ringing in his ears. The humiliation, the headlines, the fear of losing everything…it was crashing down on him. His silence stretched long enough that I knew he was struggling to keep it together."Do you really hate me that much?" His voice was low, rough, like he was barely
Emily’s POV.I stood there, arms crossed, watching him like he was some kind of pest that refused to leave. Cole, sitting on my couch like he belonged here. Like he had any right to breathe the same air as me after everything he did.He was crazy if he thought I’d just let this slide.I took a step forward, ready to grab his arm and drag him out myself, but a knock on the door stopped me. My head snapped toward it.Room service? I hadn’t ordered anything.Cole, the smug bastard, didn’t even react. He just sat there, rubbing his temple like I was giving him a headache.I marched to the door, yanked it open, and found a hotel staff member standing there with a tray. A covered dish, a drink on the side."Miss Hart, your assistant sent this up for you."My brows pulled together. "My assistant?""Yes, ma’am. He said you haven’t eaten all day and that you needed something light."I sighed. Sam. Of course, he did. The man was loyal, but he was also annoying as hell when it came to hovering o
Stevie-lou's POV.He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear again, like he always did when we were out together. A signature move. A gentle caress that screamed affection to anyone watching. And I smiled up at him, letting my eyes soften just the way he liked. My lashes lowered, lips parting slightly, the faintest curve playing at the corners of my mouth. I’d perfected it.I hated the way my skin tingled under his touch...not because I wanted him, hell no...but because I was so damn good at pretending, I could fool even my own body. It betrayed me every time, responding to his closeness like a lover’s would. It made my stomach turn."You look beautiful tonight, Petunia," Smith said, his voice low and deliberate, fingers brushing the small of my back like he owned me."You always say that," I teased, brushing my fingers lightly along his wrist, my nails just grazing his skin."Because it’s always true."His eyes held mine a second too long, just enough to tell me what was coming. His ga
Smith’s POV.It had been days.And I couldn’t get her out of my damn head.Petunia Monroe.That name had stuck in my brain like a thorn I couldn’t pull out. Everywhere I turned, she was there. Not physically. But in my head. In meetings. In the boardroom while numbers were being thrown around, projections, investments, power plays…I saw her face. The way she tilted her head. The way her eyes held mine when we spoke.I had tried to fuck her out of my system. Tried it with a blonde influencer who kept giggling every time I so much as looked her way. Then with a brunette who knew how to moan on cue and say all the right things. Nothing. It all felt like cardboard. Cold. Pointless.She was still there. Her black feathered leotard, the way it hugged her body like it was made for her. That ballet performance wasn’t just art…it was a goddamn message. I didn’t know what it said, but I felt it like a slap to the chest.And I couldn’t stop playing it in my head.During dinner, seated alone at m
Stevie-lou’s POV.My heart was still racing as I wiped the sweat off my forehead. That performance had eaten me raw. Every muscle in my body was still vibrating. The black feathered leotard I wore...designed with precision and attitude...hugged my skin like a second layer, still warm from the heat of the spotlight. I felt it in my bones. The music. The rhythm. The eyes. Especially his.I had seen the way Smith Hart looked at me.He was far back in the dark hall but there was no missing the way he leaned forward during the dance. The others might’ve been sipping their drinks, whispering among themselves or pretending to care, but not him. Smith Hart had been watching like I was the only thing moving in that whole damn room. His stare cut through the air, bold and direct, as if he had seen something in me nobody else had. It shook me a little. Not because I cared. But because I knew exactly who he was...and I despised everything he stood for.The man was ruthless. Sharp-suited, sharp-to
Smith’s POVThe Hart Enterprise 50th Anniversary Gala was perfect.Every inch of the ballroom screamed success. The walls, lined with art and gold accents, reflected the soft shimmer of crystal chandeliers. The air smelled faintly of expensive perfume and fresh flowers, the latter arranged in massive, white-topped vases at every corner. I surveyed it all…took it in from the balcony before stepping down to join the crowd below.It was a night that I had meticulously planned. Years of hard work, of seeing opportunities and risks like no one else, and now, it all led here. Every seat in the room was occupied. Every person invited was a mover, a shaker, an influencer. The type of people who understood what it meant to be at the top.I adjusted the cuffs of my black tuxedo…custom-made, obviously. Not a thread out of place. My watch gleamed under the soft lighting as I looked out at the sea of faces below. The night was unfolding as I had imagined. Every detail was perfect. Every piece in p
Stevie-Lou’s POVThree days.It had been three days since we lowered my father into the ground.Three days since I stood beside his casket, dressed in black, staring down at the man who raised me…silent and still beneath a polished wooden lid. Three days of hearing strangers murmur things like “He was a good man” and “So sorry for your loss,” as if their condolences could glue together the splintered mess inside my chest.They couldn’t. Nothing could.The grief was a living thing. It clung to me like a second skin, heavy and suffocating, curling around my lungs every time I tried to breathe. I sat curled up on the sagging couch in my apartment, wrapped in my father’s old flannel shirt, my knees tucked under me like a scared little girl. A single candle burned on the coffee table. Sandalwood…his favorite scent. The flame danced, throwing shadows against the walls, soft and flickering. It was the only light I could stand. The overhead bulbs were too harsh, too alive.Jeremy, my boyfrien
Smith's POV.I leaned back in my chair slowly, the leather squeaking. I didn’t speak. Just stared at James.His hands were twitchy. Fidgety. Like he didn’t know what to do with them."Is that all?" I finally asked.He blinked. Like he expected me to say something else. Anything else."Yes, sir. I just thought... you should know."I scoffed. "Why?"He flinched. "Well, he worked here since before you were born.""Exactly," I said, cutting him off. "Which means he had years to prepare. Retirement fund. Family. Friends. A damn GoFundMe if he wanted."James didn’t speak."You think it was my job to save him?" I asked, eyes narrowing.He shook his head quickly. "No, sir. Of course not.""Good. Because it wasn’t. This isn’t a charity."The silence in the room tightened. James looked at the floor."He was desperate," he mumbled.I stood up slowly. Walked around the desk until I was a few steps from him."Let me ask you something, James. If I give 1.3 million to a dying man with a bad heart, h
Smith POV.I was 27. Young. Cold. Successful. Ruthless.CEO of the Hart Enterprise.People feared me. And that was fine. Fear keeps people in check. I didn’t have time for emotions or second chances. Not in this world. Not in business. One mistake could bring it all crashing down.I sat behind my office desk…black, clean…just like everything else in my life. The skyline of New York stood outside my glass window. Everyone out there had a dream. I was already living mine. But it didn’t come easy.I wasn’t even supposed to be here. I wasn’t meant to exist.My father, Richard Hart, never wanted me. He wasn’t married when he met my mother, Lena. His first wife…Emily’s mother…had already left him. Walked away. No cheating involved. That chapter had ended.Eight years later, he met my mother. It was just a one-night stand. Nothing more. A stupid decision. When she found out she was pregnant and told him, he turned into a monster.He tortured her. Pressured her. Told her to get rid of me.But
Married To The Billionaire I Hate Part 2Synopsis:Stevie-Lou Parker’s world shattered the day her father, a loyal employee of Smith Hart, died after being denied a loan for his treatment. Smith Hart, the ruthless billionaire, refused to help, and her father paid the price. Consumed with rage, Stevie-Lou swore revenge on the man who caused her family’s downfall.To get close to him, Stevie-Lou went undercover, hiding her true identity. She lied about her name and used a disguise so Smith would never suspect she was the daughter of the man whose death he had caused. Using her beauty and talent as a skilled dancer, Stevie-Lou captivated Smith with a performance that left him wanting more. He fell in love, believing she was just another woman to add to his collection.But for Stevie-Lou, this was never about love…it was about revenge. She married him, planning to strip him of everything he held dear: his wealth, his power, his empire. What Smith didn’t know was that Stevie-Lou wasn’t alo
Emily's POV.Six years later.I couldn't believe how much everything had changedm..and how much I had changed. I used to be a woman who could take on anything with a smile, fighting tooth and nail for what I wanted, getting my way, keeping my guard up. Now, I was a wife, a mother to two wild kids who were way too much like me for comfort, and I was somehow still trying to find the balance. Cole and I had two little monsters. I meant that in the most loving way, of course. A five-year-old girl who thought she knew everything, and a three-year-old boy who was already calm enough to be mistaken for a mini version of his father.I looked over at Mia, our daughter, as she flipped through her book on the couch, muttering to herself. “Mom, you know you can’t just say things like that. The truth is like…” She paused, squinting up at me, “...it’s like a key. It opens doors. And if you don’t have the key, well, you’re locked out. Simple logic. Honestly.”I blinked, my fork halfway to my mouth