Vanessa's POV.The car ride was suffocatingly silent, except for the low hum of the engine and the faint sound of my own breath, coming out unsteady. I could still feel the weight of people's stares, the shock of recognition flashing in their eyes as I fled from the store. My pulse was still erratic, the adrenaline refusing to leave my system.I clutched the sleeves of my hoodie, my knuckles white as I kept myself pressed against the door. The man beside me, my so-called savior, hadn’t spoken a word. His jaw was tense, and the sharp cut of his profile flickered in and out of the streetlights as we sped through the city. He had saved me. But I had no idea why.When he finally pulled into a small, dark garage, the unease coiled tighter in my stomach. I turned to him as he shut off the engine, my voice sharp and hoarse.“Why the fuck are you helping me?”His fingers flexed on the steering wheel before he finally turned his head toward me, his expression unreadable.“I saw the news,” he a
Emily’s POVDaniel’s voice was steady as he delivered the report. “Vanessa was spotted at a motel in Denver last night. Someone recognized her and tipped off the authorities, but by the time they got there, she was gone. Surveillance footage shows her running down the alley behind the motel. She changed clothes, went into a convenience store, and tried to blend in, but another customer recognized her.”I sat up straighter, my fingers tightening around the armrest of the couch. “And?”“She ran again,” Daniel continued. “She stole a car and ditched it outside the city. Her photos are everywhere now. Even in disguise, people are recognizing her. She’s desperate, and she’s running out of places to hide.”I exhaled slowly, my jaw locking. My pulse thudded in my ears. Vanessa was slipping through the cracks, but not for long. She was panicked, making mistakes. It was only a matter of time before she got caught, and when she did, I wanted to be the first to watch them put her behind bars.I
Cole’s POVMidnight.Rain lashed against the windows, hard and relentless, filling the silence of the room. The faint glow of the bedside lamp barely reached the corners, but I didn’t care. I sat on the edge of the bed, my elbows resting on my knees, my fingers interlocked. My mind wasn’t here. It was trapped in the events of the past few days, running in circles, chasing answers I didn’t have.Emily was back. Safe. But that didn’t erase the fact that she had been taken in the first place.She had been kidnapped.And I hadn’t been the one to save her.She had come back on her own.I tightened my fists, my nails digging into my palms. The idea of her alone, fighting her way back, made something sharp twist inside me.I had failed her.I wasn’t there when she needed me. I hadn’t ripped those bastards apart with my own hands. I hadn’t been the one to drag Vanessa out of whatever hole she was hiding in and make her pay for what she did.And now, Emily’s father wanted me to divorce her.He
Vanessa’s POVThe rain hadn’t stopped since I got here. It was like the sky was weeping for me…pouring and howling through the night, drowning out the thoughts I couldn’t escape. Two days in this house, hiding like a fugitive, because that’s exactly what I was now.A wanted woman.And all because of her.Emily.That name burned through my skull like acid, but I couldn’t let him see it. I couldn’t let Ronan…yes, that was his name…see the hatred simmering inside me.He had told me his name the first morning after I woke up in his bed, my body sore, my head heavy with exhaustion.“Ronan,” he had said, standing by the window, his voice deep, calm, like none of this fazed him. “You should know the name of the man risking everything to keep you here.”I had stared at him, waiting for something else. Some threat, some demand. But there was nothing. Just a name and a steady gaze.Ronan. Irish. Strong. A name that carried weight, like he had seen things, done things.And now, he was helping me
Vanessa’s POV.The following day.The room felt too quiet without Ronan.He had left not long ago, saying he needed to get some things for me. Clothes, food, whatever. He didn’t tell me exactly where he was going, but he assured me he wouldn’t take long. The way he looked at me before leaving…like he actually gave a damn…was unsettling. No one had ever looked at me like that before. Not Cole. Not anyone.I pulled Ronan’s hoodie tighter around me. It smelled like him, like cedarwood and the faintest trace of cigarettes. I wasn’t sure if I liked it or hated it. My fingers absently played with the hem as I paced the small space, restless.The rain was still coming down outside, steady and relentless. Water streaked down the windows, blurring the view beyond. I didn’t know where exactly we were, some house on the outskirts of the city, away from prying eyes. Ronan had made sure of that. No one came in or out. No visitors. No risks.I should’ve been grateful. But gratitude wasn’t something
Emily's POV.The first thing I felt was warmth. Solid, steady warmth wrapped around me like a shield. My head was pressed against something firm, something that rose and fell in a slow, even rhythm. I blinked slowly, my mind sluggish, taking its time to catch up. The scent of fresh soap and something uniquely Cole filled my nose.Cole’s arms were wrapped around me, his body a solid presence against mine. His grip wasn’t tight, but it wasn’t loose either. Like he was holding on without really thinking about it.I tensed for a second. I wasn’t used to this. Waking up next to someone. Feeling their body heat seep into mine. Feeling... safe.Cole stirred, his hand shifting slightly against my back, fingers trailing lazily against my skin. His chest rose with a deep inhale, then he let out a slow, content sigh.I stayed still, watching him. His face was completely relaxed in sleep, the sharp lines of his jaw softer, his dark lashes casting shadows against his cheekbones. He looked differen
Emily's POV.I woke up to silence.Not the peaceful kind.The kind that told me something wasn’t right.I turned, my fingers brushing against Cole’s side of the bed. Cold. Empty. He was up already.I sighed, pushing the sheets off me, stretching out my arms. It had been two weeks since I had set foot in my office at Hart Enterprise. A week since Cole decided I should work from home. His excuse? Safety.I called it overprotective nonsense.I pulled on my robe, tying it lazily as I stepped out of the bedroom. The smell of fresh coffee hit me first. Then I heard the low murmur of Cole’s voice.I followed the sound to the kitchen.And there he was.Standing by the counter, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone to his ear. His suit was already on…black, neat, ironed to perfection. His sleeves were rolled up, his watch catching the light.He was intimidating and effortless all at once.I leaned against the doorway, watching him."…No, Dad. We wait," Cole said, voice calm but f
Emily's POV.I wasn’t expecting company.Not today. Not ever, really.But when the doorbell rang, the house was too quiet except for the distant murmur of the bodyguards outside. I knew…whoever it was, they weren’t just dropping by for fun.I pulled the door open, and there she was.My mother.She stood at my doorstep in a beige coat, a silk scarf loosely wrapped around her neck, her short hair styled perfectly, as if she had stepped out of some magazine cover. She always had a way of looking put together, even when things were falling apart.Her eyes swept over me, taking in the sight of me in my oversized sweater, barefoot, my hair loosely tied up. Then she met my gaze, hesitation spreading across her face."Emily," she said, her voice softer than I remembered.I didn’t answer. I just stared at her, at the woman who had walked away from me like I was nothing more than an afterthought.She had attended my wedding. She had sat in the front row, smiling like she was proud, as if she ha
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