LOGINHe was robbed of everything—his name, his home, his future. Now he wants it all back. When Timothy’s father died, the family empire should have been his. Instead, Madison Wellman, the mistress in the shadows, emerged with forged papers, ruthless ambition, and the muscle to throw Timothy and his mother into the streets. Penniless and broken, he watched grief consume his mother until he lost her too. That day, Timothy vowed he would return. That day, he vowed Madison would pay. Fifteen years later, Timothy is no longer the boy who was cast out—he is a man of power, wealth, and deadly charm. And his revenge begins with Madison’s most vulnerable weakness— her son, Ethan. Handsome, closeted, and trapped by his mother’s control, Ethan is everything Timothy needs to destroy her from the inside. But Ethan is also something Timothy never expected, someone who awakens feelings he thought long buried. Now Timothy stands at the brink of victory with Madison’s kingdom crumbling, her deceit unraveling, and retribution stands within his grasp. But to take it, he may be compelled to sacrifice the one thing his own heart craves most Will he choose revenge… or succumb to the forbidden attraction that threatens to destroy them both.
View MoreEthan finally tore his gaze away from the painting — a burst of silver and shadow that suddenly seemed less interesting than the man beside him and looked at Tim with a raised brow.“Excuse me?” he asked, his tone cool but his voice just a shade too tight.Tim chuckled under his breath, that dry, knowing sound that always seemed to find its way under Ethan’s skin. He took a slow step forward, reaching out as a passing waiter floated by with a silver tray of champagne flutes.With effortless grace, Tim plucked one from the tray and lifted it to his lips. Ethan’s eyes betrayed him — watching, almost hypnotised, as those lips curved around the rim of the glass. The subtle motion of Tim’s throat as he swallowed… the faint sigh that left his mouth as he closed his eyes for a second, savouring the taste. It was such a small thing, yet Ethan’s pulse spiked, his stomach knotting in ways he couldn’t name.He must have lingered too long.Because when Tim opened his eyes again, there was a glint
Ethan steadied himself at last, though his heart raced beneath his ribs and his hands shook with a nervous energy he never knew he possessed. His entire body was a battleground of contrasts — control, composure, and something dangerously close to desire.He drew a sharp breath, meeting Tim's gaze, his voice cutting through the tension like steel."You are going to watch your tone with me, Mr Dorian," he said, low and even, not blinking. "And stop this insinuating of what is not."Tim's eyebrows rose somewhat, that maddening smirk tugging at his mouth — the kind of smirk that appeared to be both challenge and certainty. He tilted his head, voice cool, teasing, and yet subtly inquiring."Insinuating?" he echoed softly.Ethan squared his shoulders, feet planted. "Yes. Insinuating." His tone was harder now, each word slow and measured. "Quit implying what isn't so."He took a slow step forward, closing the space between them to inches where he could discern the faint glint of amber light
The moment Ethan stepped into the Gilded Emporium Art Gallery on Norman Street—the most exclusive gallery in all of Nashville, a sanctuary for the rich, the elite, and the mighty, the atmosphere hit him instantly. The scent of fresh paint mingled with expensive perfumes, polished marble, and the faint trace of champagne bubbles bursting in tall crystal flutes. They all glittered. Gold-leaf ceiling mirrored the light of dazzling chandeliers, casting rays over glass walls adorned with irreplaceable paintings like jewels in a crown.A slenderly dressed man in a stylish black suit came out at the door, slightly bowing.“Your jacket, sir?” he asked smoothly.Ethan gave a small nod, sliding off his tailored coat and passing it over without a word. His expression stayed collected, but his eyes, sharp and restless, were already sweeping the vast hall.The music drifted on the breeze, a quiet string quartet playing a delicate piece to soothe and astonish. Tuxedos-clad men and couture-gown-wear
~Later That Afternoon~Madison’s perfectly manicured nails drummed restlessly against the edge of Harrison Fabian’s mahogany desk. Her eyes, sharp, stormy, and brimming with a fury she rarely allowed anyone to see, cut straight into the man before her.“What do you mean by we still don’t have access to the original documents, Harrison?” she hissed through clenched teeth, her voice carrying the venom of a serpent ready to strike.Harrison Fabian — the man who had once promised her the world, who had schemed with her fifteen years ago to secure the fortune and empire of the Hemsworth estate shifted uneasily in his leather chair. His office was lined with shelves of law books and dark portraits, but in that moment, even the grandeur of the room felt suffocating under Madison’s rage.He swallowed. “Madison… I’ve told you before. The documents were hidden in Alexandra’s private study. He was meticulous, secretive. He placed them in a safe, one I know exists. But the location of the key…”
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