Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Bride He Bought : Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙍𝘼 My curls are at war with me again. Armed with my hair brush I quite aggressively rake the object through my hair. Just lay down, please. Behave. I spray a little more water, add some leave-in, even press my palm over it like that’ll help, but it frizzes back up every single time. I groan. I don't have time for this. “Why do you hate me?” I mutter, staring at the mirror like it’ll offer answers. Of course, it doesn’t. Eventually, I reach for the one thing I know will tame it: my black scarf. I wrap it neatly, smoothing the edges, and knot it at the nape of my neck. It's the last designer item I own, Dior, once upon a time. I used to wear it to brunches in Tribeca and yacht parties I don’t even remember now. Funny how now it’s just a makeshift armor against the world. I take a final glance at my reflection. My mantra leaves my lips like a habit I can't quit. "You are safe. You are strong. You are doing your best." But it sounds like someone else is saying

𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙍𝘼 His mouth is warm and demanding. A force I didn’t see coming. I don’t kiss back, I simply can’t. My body is locked in place, like a statue carved from disbelief. But he doesn’t stop. His hand remain firm beneath my chin, holding me in place as his lips move over mine like they own them. Like they’ve been here before. Then his tongue presses against the seam of my mouth, slowly, coaxing it to open. I remain frozen, my lips unyielding to his assault on my lips. My disbelief doesn't stop me from feeling though. I can still feel the pressure and heat. I can hear the sound of blood crashing through my ears. Nothing makes sense. Not the kiss. Not the way he's pressed against me, not the feel of his beard tickling my face, not the way my knees want to buckle but refuse to collapse. He finally pulls back. My lips are wet. My breath is ragged. And he’s still looking at me. His eyes are no longer ice, they’re molten steel, soft and tender in a way that knocks

𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙍𝘼 I’m crying so hard I don’t even notice when I miss my turn. Everything’s a blur. My scarf is slipping. My cheeks sting from the wind and the salt. I can’t stop choking on air. I must look insane, stumbling through the city like a mental asylum patient. It’s not until a tender voice asks if I’m okay that I realize I’m on a completely unfamiliar street. I glance up. The woman looks nervous, like she’s debating calling someone. Her eyes flick from my face to my trembling hands. “I… I’m fine,” I say meekly. She doesn’t look like she believes me, heck if I were in her position, I wouldn't believe me too, my puffy eyes are a dead give away. But she nods anyway. Another man in a tee shirt and jeans, joins in, and points toward a nearby train station. “Q line’s just down there,” he says gently. “Head two blocks east.” I thank them both. My voice sounds so small and far away, like it’s not mine anymore. I move toward the subway, each step slower than the last, it'

𝘿𝘼𝙉𝙏𝙀My study hums with the low murmur of the cars and honks beyond the windows, but inside, it's still, silent and controlled. Just the way I like it. Francesca stands to my left, with a tablet in her hand, always prepared. Lorenzo Ricci, my long-time lawyer, is already pacing. Anita, my PR manager, is seated across from me, legs crossed, black stilettos stabbing into my carpet like she's in a photo shoot instead of a crisis meeting.I don’t waste time with greetings."Status," I say in a clipped tone.Francesca taps her screen. "The file on Alera Grace Vance. As requested."I accept the tablet. Her name sits at the top of the document in bold block letters like a headline in red, announcing doom.Name: Alera Grace VanceAge: 25Education: Bachelor’s in Economics from Princeton. MBA from Columbia. Graduated with distinction.Employment History:Interned under Glover Vance, CEO of VanceCorp, from age 16 through college.Assistant financial analyst at Bell & Rowe (6 months)Marke

𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙍𝘼 Daddy's stable, for now. But that doesn't mean he's okay. After the scare two nights ago, the doctors ran more scans and confirmed that he suffered stroke and it was worse than they originally thought. I would have to keep him hospitalized, so they can monitor his recovery. But, for this to even be remotely possible, I have to pay his bills, which have risen to over eighteen thousand dollars. Eighteen thousand dollars, I obviously don't have. His doctors have been kind, but, even thier kindness can't keep us from following the policy of the hospital. That means, if I don't deposit half of his bills before the end of this week, they'll discharge dad. They'll discharge him, even if he's currently paralyzed. I can't let that happen. Keeping away from hospitals has been his idea, to reduce cost, but look where that got him, back in the hospital with a even higher bill. How, I'm going to raise his bills, I have no idea, but I have to come up with something somehow,