Semua Bab Still His Wife. Never Again His Fool: Bab 1 - Bab 10

Maya's POV “We’re here, Ma’am.” Gideon finally said.I stepped out and froze.The roses I planted were gone and replaced chrysanthemum.I was allergic to them. Elena knew that. She always knew. She made Dad decorate the house with them on my birthday once. I nearly died.Now here they were again. Her signature move.My bags were already on the porch.“What’s going on?” I asked the maids.None answered. They looked at their feet as though they were banned from speaking to me.“What does it look like?” she sneered.Elena. Drenched in designers. Meanwhile, I looked like an office intern fired before lunch.I swallowed the humiliation and walked inside.Everything was gone. M. My art, my walls, my touch. He’d erased me in hours. My lungs tightened. My throat itches. My allergy was kicking in.“Aiden said he didn’t want any trace of you left,” she cooed. “And I’m here to deliver.”I staggered out, gasping for air.“Oh no!” she gasped in mock concern. “Still allergic? I thought you'd outgr

Maya’s POVWhen I opened them, Elena was standing at my bedside with a lighter in her hand. “What… What the hell is going on?” My voice cracked. The metal cuffs bit into my wrists as I thrashed, chained like an animal. “Elena? What are you doing here?”She didn’t answer. Not right away. They just exchanged a look. And then, she started laughing. Soft at first. Then full, throat-deep cackles.“One thing I’ve always loved and absolutely hated about you,” Elena said, circling the bed slowly like a predator playing with her food, “is how incredibly easy you are to manipulate.”She stopped at my side, tilted her head, and leaned in with mock sympathy. “Oh my God, you look so pretty today,” she crooned, placing her jaw in her hands like a child admiring a doll. “You work so hard. And honestly? It’s Mr. Kensington’s fault for not seeing your value. You’re the soul of this company. Irreplaceable.” tears streamed from my eyes as I remembered those exact words that were spoken to me by the int

Soren’s POVTraffic was its usual mess today. I glanced at my wristwatch. We have barely thirty minutes to get to the company before the meeting starts.I’ve always pointed to my workers that punctuality is the key and have taken it upon myself to show them an example.“Frank, can’t we go any faster?” Frank glanced at me through the rearview mirror as I readjusted my tie. “I’m sorry, I am already driving at over hundred and twenty miles per hour. Driving any further will be breaking a traffic rule. I groaned knowing that he would never break a traffic rule.I glanced at my watch again. Twenty-eight minutes more and I'm getting anxious. This deal could make my company hit the billion dollar line and I can't afford to be late and miss it because of “traffic”.I was about to let Frank know that I wasn't paying him for his principles when something caught my eye. It was an accident. It was obvious that the car had been knocked off by a hit and run driver.“Stop the car.” Frank stepped o

Soren's POVViolent coughs tore through my chests. My eyes snapped open against my will, then immediately clamped shut as merciless fluorescent light drove spikes of agony straight into my skull. The brightness was like torture, each photon a needle piercing through to my brain.Then I heard it. That voice.That gravelly, unmistakable rumble that made my stomach plummet into a free fall. Mr. Jake Smith's throaty voice cut through the fog clouding my mind, and despite the searing pain, I forced my burning eyes open."Are you finally awake?""Is this heaven?" The words escaped before I could cage them. I'd never been religious, never swallowed the Christian fairy tales about pearly gates and eternal bliss. But if Mr. Smith was standing there. Breathing. Talking. Alive. Then maybe the afterlife is real. But that logic crumbled instantly. How could someone like me end up in paradise? I'd always assumed I'd wake up screaming in flames ten times hotter than the fire that killed me, my voice

Maya’s POVThe touch was small — a collision of fingertips over a scatter of paper — but it landed like an electric verdict. For a moment, the clatter of cutlery and the stink of frying oil vanished; the world narrowed to the hard cut of his jaw and the burn of recognition I shouldn’t have felt.I gasped.Soren Stefan. Alive. Real. Standing inches away from me when he was supposed to exist only in the fragments of a life I’d already lost.Shock rooted me in place for a heartbeat too long. Then instinct surged — smile, composure, a mask pulled on fast enough to smother the truth. I couldn’t tell him. Not that I’d known him before. Not that he had died saving me. Not that we had burned together.“Middle school,” he said at last, his smile clipped, his eyes unreadable.My brows knit. “What?”“We went to the same middle school. You were… nice to me.”Nice? To him? My mind flinched. In all my memories, the hospital had been the beginning. I would have remembered a boy like Soren Stefan, wo