Se connecterMarcus I watched Sarah pause in the doorway, her gaze fixed on Oliver as he worked on a wobbly Lego tower on the rug. Maria sat beside him, but Sarah’s focus was entirely on her son. She crossed the room and knelt down, the sharp lines of her persona softening the second she touched him. She pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head. “Be good for Maria, okay? Mommy has to go out for a little while.” Oliver didn't even look up from his castle. “Okay, Mom. Can we build a bigger one when you get back?” I saw that familiar tightening in her chest—the raw, protective love she had for the boy. “Of course, baby,” she whispered. She stood up, gave Maria a grateful nod, and grabbed her coat. She looked at me then, her jaw set. Oliver was safe. He was happy. I could see it in her eyes—that was the only thing that made this entire charade worth it to her. * “Marcus.” Sarah’s fingers dig into the cashmere of my sleeve, her voice dropping into a cautious whisper. “I don’t think I can do t
Sarah No matter how much I want to, I can’t avoid Marcus Kane forever.I could stay cooped up in this guest suite on the upper floor of his New York penthouse and be perfectly satisfied if someone just slid food under the door. I almost picked the smallest room just to make a point, but then I realized he probably wouldn’t care. He’d still have the master suite downstairs, and my petty rebellion would only leave me with a cramped bed. So I chose the largest one up here.It feels more like a suite in a five-star hotel than a guest bedroom. I’m not complaining. The king-sized bed is massive compared to the one I had back in our small apartment. I don’t know what the mattress is made of, but it feels like sleeping on a cloud.I should’ve slept perfectly. I didn’t.Instead, I dreamed of the cunning desire in Marcus’s gorgeous eyes. I dreamed of the friction of his lips against mine. I even thought of all the dark, dirty things that could happen on the marble island in the kitchen downst
Julian POVJulian Sterling stood at the edge of the Crystal Ballroom, champagne glass forgotten in his hand. The gala swirled around him in a haze of silk gowns, crystal chandeliers, and laughter that felt too loud, too polished. Five years had polished the edges of his world into something sleek and cold, yet tonight the emptiness seemed to hit him heavier than usual.Genevieve moved across the dance floor in a striking red gown, her laugh rising above the orchestra like a perfect note. A silver-haired donor cut in, murmuring how breathtaking she looked. She accepted the compliment with that effortless charm that once used to set his blood on fire. Now it left him cold.A familiar voice cut through the noise.“Still hiding in corners like you’re allergic to fun? Some things never change.”Julian turned. Dominic Hale approached with that easy stride, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Dominic wasn’t just his best friend from university days. He was the man whose logistics empire kept St
Sarah stirred the pasta sauce on the stove, the rich smell of garlic and tomatoes filling the kitchen. She had kept the meal simple tonight—something Oliver would actually eat. The sauce bubbled gently while she listened for his footsteps upstairs.The doorbell rang.She wiped her hands on a dish towel and opened the door. Marcus stood there in a dark coat, a large gift bag in one hand and that familiar half-smile on his face.“Surprise,” he said.Before she could answer, Oliver’s excited voice rang out. “Dad!”The little boy flew down the stairs and straight into Marcus’s arms. Marcus caught him easily, lifting him high.“Hey, champ.” He set Oliver down and pulled a shiny remote-control T-Rex from the bag. “Heard you like dinosaurs.”Oliver’s eyes went huge. “Whoa! Thank you!”Marcus ruffled his hair. “Go on. Try him out.”They played right there on the living room rug while Sarah finished dinner. Marcus made the dinosaur roar and chase Oliver across the floor. The boy’s laughter fil
Chapter 11Five years later SarahSarah stood at the kitchen island, flipping golden pancakes on the griddle while the morning sun streamed through the tall windows of their spacious apartment. Five years had changed everything, and yet some mornings still felt beautifully ordinary.“Mom! I can’t find my blue socks!” Oliver’s voice echoed from upstairs, full of five-year-old drama.“Did you check under the bed like I told you yesterday?” Sarah called back, smiling to herself.A pause. Then triumphant shouting. “Found them!”Moments later, small feet thundered down the stairs. Oliver burst into the kitchen, backpack half-zipped, his dark hair still messy from sleep. He ran straight to her and wrapped his little arms around her waist, pressing his face into her side.“Morning, Mommy.”Sarah’s heart melted, the way it did every single time. She leaned down and kissed the top of his head, breathing in the familiar scent of his shampoo. “Good morning, my love. Sit down before the pancakes
MarcusSarah stared at him like he had just suggested they jump off a cliff together.“Marry you?” Her voice cracked, half-laugh, half-horror. “You can’t be serious.”Marcus leaned back in the chair, one ankle resting casually on his knee, and let the silence stretch between them. He was very serious.Internally, the pieces had snapped into place the second she admitted the baby was Julian Sterling’s. A visible heir. A very public, very pregnant wife on his arm. It was better than any plan he could have engineered. His father’s ultimatum had been hanging over him for months: settle down or watch the Kane empire slip to a cousin. The old man was done with the parade of models and tabloid scandals. “You want the company?” he’d growled at their last board meeting. “Then prove you can build something that lasts.”This woman had fallen straight into his lap like a gift from the devil himself. Julian’s discarded wife, carrying the rival’s child, desperate, and already burning for revenge.
SarahSarah woke to the taste of copper and the steady beep of a heart monitor. Her head throbbed in time with her pulse, a dull, vicious ache that radiated from her temple down to her jaw. She tried to sit up, but the room tilted violently. A soft hand pressed her shoulder back against the pillow
SarahThe smell of pancakes filled the air, warm and buttery, carrying the faint sweetness of maple syrup.In the dream Sarah walked barefoot into the sunlit kitchen, a soft smile already forming on her lips. Julian stood at the counter, shirtless, his back muscles shifting as he wrestled with the
SarahSarah stood at the small kitchen window of the old apartment, staring down at the quiet street below. A week. Seven days since she had dragged her suitcase through that door and locked it behind her. The place had been thick with dust then — gray film on every surface, the faint smell of aban
GenevieveThe hotel room carried the faint, stubborn scent of old perfume mixed with industrial bleach. It clung to the heavy drapes and cream wallpaper. Genevieve Sinclair leaned back against the padded headboard, her long legs stretched out across the silk sheets. Her fingers absently traced the







