The billionaire leftover wife

Roan’s feet pounded against the wet pavement as he ran through the parking lot. Rain hammered down on him, soaking through his clothes until he felt it against his skin. But he didn’t care. She’s leaving. The thought pushed him faster. His lungs burned, but he kept running. He’d been through this terminal a hundred times before. Never like this. Never with his heart trying to rip itself out of his chest. Then he saw Melanie. She was standing by the tracks, one small suitcase beside her. Her hand was closed tight, like she was holding onto her decision with everything she had. Roan’s throat suddenly closed up. He wanted to call her name, but nothing came out. Just then the train pulled up with a screech of metal. Doors slid open. Voices blended together. The final call echoed through the terminal. She grabbed her suitcase and walked toward it. Then, like she felt him watching, she turned. Their eyes met. Him, dripping wet and desperate. Her, one step away from leaving foreve

Damien twirled the pen lazily between his fingers, his shoulders leaning back against the leather chair as he studied the board members through hooded eyes. They sat around the long glass table like a jury, faces stern, hands folded, pretending this wasn’t already his decision to make. The faint ticking of a wall clock was the only sound beyond the soft rustle of papers and the occasional cough from someone attempting to hide their impatience. In front of them lay the expansion proposal. His proposal. It was bold. Risky. Expensive. The kind of move that made conservative men sweat and visionaries lean forward. If approved, it would drain a significant portion of the company’s liquid assets. If it failed, shareholders would howl. If it succeeded, Hardy Global would dominate the market for the next decade. Damien had no doubt which outcome mattered. Harold Whitman cleared his throat. The sound alone irritated Damien. “This is… a very bold move, sonny,” Harold said, peering

The question rang in her ears. She wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly.His father?He stared at her expectantly, those sharp eyes trained on her in a way that was having the exact opposite effect he probably intended. Instead of intimidating her into submission, they made her feel hot. In all the wrong places.“I will not repeat myself,” he warned.The sharp warning rapidly cooled the flames that had been building in her, making her suddenly aware of the car’s air conditioner against her skin. This was serious. The man wasn’t joking. Whatever playfulness had existed moments ago was gone. The smiles had faded, and his face left no room to doubt his words.Wrapping her arms around herself, she answered briefly.“I don’t know your father.”“You don’t know Thomas Hardy,” he shot back, disbelief sharp in his tone. “The wealthiest man in this city.” He scoffed. “His face graced every goddamn paper and magazine last month during his funeral. You’re going to need to come up with a more c

Emily had barely shut the car door before her mom lit into her.“How long did you intend to keep it a secret from your own mom?”“I—” she attempted to explain but was cut off.“You even made me endure the humiliation of your going to that show when already you had a man!”Emily rolled her eyes. As if you weren’t the one who forced me to go on the show, she thought.Undeterred, her mother continued. “You even allowed me and your siblings to live by the pitiful salary you brought home. You have failed me as a daughter, Emily.”The soft gasp from Emily betrayed the pain she had been trying to hide. Failed her as a daughter. After all the sacrifices she had made. Defiance burned deep in her chest, but it was short-lived. She had promised.“I’m sorry, Mom,” she said meekly.“You should be,” her mother snapped. “Going shopping, living in that mansion while we’re starving.”“Mom, I didn’t know Damien before last night,” she insisted, trying to reason. “I had nothing to do with—”Her mother w

Walker returned Damien’s anger with a lazy smile, the kind that suggested he was enjoying this far too much.“She’s all yours,” he said lightly.He turned to Emily, winked, and lifted her hand, placing a deliberate kiss on the back of it. His lips lingered just long enough to be insulting before he straightened.“Stay away from my fiancée, Walker,” Damien snapped, jaw tight, fists clenched at his sides.Walker’s smile widened as he stepped back, lifting both hands in mock surrender. “Then stay with your fiancée, Damien,” he fired back smoothly before turning on his heel and walking away, disappearing into the glow spilling from the ballroom doors.Damien watched him go, his shoulders tense, before turning back to Emily. His eyes were sharp now, dark with something that wasn’t just anger.“Are you trying to make up for lost time?” he asked harshly. “Grabbing every bit of attention you couldn’t get before you’re finally hitched?”“If there’s anyone here guilty of whoring around like he’