LOGINLancelotte Cueva's heart transplant success, yet he finds it impossible to be happy. The man whose heart gave him a second chance at life, Jacob, died in a tragic accident. His grief soon turns into burning hatred after discovering that Jacob's girlfriend was responsible for his death. Determined to get revenge, Lancelotte goes after Santiara—the woman he holds accountable. But the more he gets to know her, the more he finds himself falling for the very person he swore to hate. Then an unexpected one-night stand changes everything, making it even harder for him to walk away. Can a heart consumed by vengeance learn to forgive, or will love be sacrificed in the name of justice?
View MoreLANCELOTTE'S POV Instead of heading home, I drove straight to my office. An emergency meeting with several investors had been scheduled for that morning, leaving me with no time to return to the mansion. Besides, going home would only waste precious minutes, and I had more important things to attend to.Fortunately, the penthouse on the top floor of my office building had everything I needed. I had it furnished specifically for situations like this, when work demanded my immediate attention and returning home was simply out of the question.After arriving, I went straight to the penthouse and took a quick shower. Once I had changed into a fresh suit, I checked my appearance in the mirror before heading to the conference room.Several investors were already waiting."Good morning, gentlemen."I greeted each of them with a firm handshake, offering the same confident smile I used whenever I needed to put people at ease without revealing too much about myself.The meeting centered on o
THE NEXT MORNINGLANCELOTTE'S POVThe persistent vibration of my cellphone pulled me out of my sleep.I groaned and slowly opened my eyes, only to squint against the bright morning sunlight streaming through the hotel window. My head felt heavy, and for several seconds, I remained still, trying to gather my scattered thoughts.Damn it. What time was it?I reached for my phone, but the ringing stopped before I could answer. I glanced at the screen, irritated by the missed call, then dropped my head back against the pillow.I needed more sleep. After the kind of night I had, a few extra hours would have been a welcome luxury.Then I noticed the woman sleeping beside me.For a moment, I simply stared at her.She lay peacefully beneath the sheets, her face relaxed, apparently unaware of the world waiting outside the hotel room. A few strands of hair rested against her cheek, and one of her hands was curled near her face. She looked different from the woman I had encountered at the bar the
It was already late at night, but the bar remained crowded and noisy.I sat alone in a corner, watching the man who had rescued me earlier. Several empty bottles of liquor were scattered across his table, while two women sat on either side of him, keeping him company. One occasionally leaned close to whisper something in his ear, while the other laughed at whatever he said.Not that I cared.I had no idea who the man was, and after witnessing him shoot two people without hesitation, I wasn't particularly interested in getting to know him.Still, I couldn't help wondering why he had brought me here instead of simply letting me go."Hey."I turned when a woman approached me, carrying a glass."Mister Cueva, asked me to give this to you."I glanced at the drink. Fruit juice.My eyes traveled toward the man across the room. He was watching me, his brows slightly furrowed, as though he were silently telling me to drink it."Come on," the woman encouraged with a smile. "It's only juice. Mis
I ignored every man who tried to catch my attention. Tonight, I wanted only one thing—to drink until the pain inside me finally disappeared.“Life's already punishing me. If I end up dying tonight, at least let me enjoy myself first.” I raised my hand toward the bartender. “Hey, bartender! Give me another drink. Make it strong—the kind that makes me forget everything.”The bartender chuckled as he looked at me. “You're already drunk, ma'am. I don't think you'll even be able to walk home.”I shot him an annoyed look. “I'm not going home. Just give me another drink.”He scratched the back of his neck, probably realizing that arguing with me would be a waste of time. Without another word, he poured me another glass.I swallowed the drink, barely bothering to savor its bitter taste. I wanted the alcohol to burn its way down my throat until I could no longer feel anything—not the pain, not the anger, and certainly not the memories I was desperately trying to escape.A few minutes later, th












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