LOGINThree years into a cold, contract marriage, Evelyn Vance realizes her sacrifice was for nothing. Despite playing the part of the perfect, distant wife to the ruthless tycoon Rhysander Bert, her father secretly gambled away the bailout money Rhysander provided, destroying the very legacy Evelyn sold her freedom to save. The story flashes back to the day the deal was struck. Evelyn’s father had pathetically tried to force Rhysander into a marriage pact to save his failing shipping company, only to be met with cold mockery. Just as they were being ushered out, Evelyn stepped from the shadows and negotiated her own sale. Instead of a romance, she proposed a three-year "merger." She offered Rhysander a PR makeover and access to exclusive port permits in exchange for capital and protection for her family's business. Impressed by her calculated, business-like stoicism, Rhysander agreed, with the lethal warning that he would ruin her family if she ever embarrassed his name. Evelyn had sacrificed her freedom for help. Years later, she meets the woman who was Rhysander's first love and she knows that her time to leave has arrived. The first love tries to cause trouble, however, Evelyn is not one to take insults lying down. She immediately defends herself. Rhysander gets drugged and sleeps with Evelyn, then she leaves the next day. Seven years later, Evelyn comes back to the country with her children, who are also Rhysander's children and they bump into each other at the airport. Rhysander is shocked and surprised to see her at the airport.
View MoreAMANDA'S POVWhen I spotted them together, something deep within me shattered at last.There they were.Rhysander.Evelyn.Positioned side by side as if the rest of the world had faded away.Even now...Regardless of everything that had transpired.His instinct remained to protect her.Not me.Never me.A sharp laugh escaped me as I tightened my hold on the pistol."This is how it comes to a close."Every face in the warehouse turned to look at me.Marcus quickly issued commands."Upper level!""Cover the balcony!"The security team scattered, directing their weapons my way.I felt no fear.Fear had deserted me weeks ago.The police were already on my trail.My bank accounts had been locked.Every one of my apartments had been searched.All my so-called friends vanished when my funds dried up.Even Harold...The man who vowed to stand by me...Had disappeared without a single word.I stared at him."So this was your scheme?"Harold’s face revealed nothing."You weren't supposed to sho
HAROLD'S POVFor the first instance that evening, my pulse stumbled. The small red light flickering on the recorder mirrored Rhysander Bert's steadfast gaze, and in that fleeting moment, the warehouse felt as if it was closing in on me. Then I let out a laugh.A cautious and calculated laugh."Do you genuinely believe one recorder will suffice?"Rhysander remained silent.His lack of response annoyed me far more than any verbal insult could.I tucked my hands deep into my coat pockets and began to stride slowly across the fractured concrete surface. The rain hammered against the roof, each drop hitting the corroded metal like a clock ticking down to an inevitable conclusion."I anticipated more from you, Rhysander," I remarked. "As a sharp businessman, you must realize that a recording is only valuable if those involved truly confess to a crime."I cast a glance at Victor.The elderly man appeared weary, irreparably shattered.Next, I turned my attention to Evelyn.She still regarded
No one uttered a word.The atmosphere within Warehouse Seventeen was laden with more weight than the rain lashing against the corroded roof. All eyes were trained on Victor Vance, standing before us like a man burdened by a multitude of transgressions. His shoulders hung low, and the self-assurance that once positioned him as a revered figure in the shipping sector had vanished entirely.Harold ambled around the table, his steps resonating throughout the desolate warehouse. His pace was devoid of haste. He resembled an individual who had envisioned this scenario repeatedly, relishing each moment as if he had spent years anticipating Evelyn's downfall with every revelation that emerged. "Do you understand?" he remarked, a self-satisfied grin on his face. "Your father is now aware that lies have a shelf life. The truth eventually resurfaces." Victor's hands shook with tension. "Cease your talk." His tone was raspy, nearly a plea. "You've said enough." Harold chuckled softly. "Reall
EVELYN'S POVFor what felt like an eternity, I remained frozen.My brain struggled to comprehend the figure in front of me.The man who stood there had been interred in my heart for seven long years. His name had vanished from my lips, as each utterance brought forth a wave of disappointment, pain, and anger.My father.Victor Vance.He bore no resemblance to the formidable figure I recalled from my youth. The confident man who once commanded Vance Shipping, giving direction to hundreds of workers, had been replaced by someone weary and defeated.Yet it was undoubtedly him.The eyes were unmistakable.The voice resonated with familiarity, a sound I had heard time and again during my childhood.The same figure who had guided me through my first steps at the old harbor.The very man who had assured me that I would someday surpass him.But he was also the man who shattered everything we had worked for.The one whose errors bound me to marry Rhysander.The man I thought had left me behind
EVELYN'S POV The loud noise gradually calmed down as the airport's automated doors slid open behind us. However, my chest continued to feel tensed as I went outside, as if I had forgotten how to breathe correctly. Liam was holding my other hand while I tightly wrapped my fingers around the handle
The airport was louder than I remembered. It's been quite some time since I last travelled after all. I stood near the exit with one hand wrapped around the handle of my suitcase while the other rested lightly on top of it. The cool air from the vents brushed against my face, lifting strands of my
The murmurs in the room grew and not long after, I could make out each and every word they were saying. The "loyal wife" image I had spent three years building was dissolving. I felt physically sick. I wanted to throw up from disgust. Rhysander still hadn't moved. His hand was a ghost at my waist,
I adjusted the diamond earrings and necklace that Rhysander had gifted me for our second anniversary as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. It's been three years since I got married to Rhysander under the guise of a contract marriage. I had kept my promise; I never crossed into the room I was






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