Semua Bab VENGEANCE AS CRUEL AS HIS LOVE: Bab 1 - Bab 8

~ Jennifer ~The hospital was a blur of quiet voices and pitying looks.“The report said it was a spontaneous miscarriage," Stanley said, his hand on mine a cold, dead weight.Hot tears spilled down from my eyes when I remembered my early journey with Stanley. People defined marriage as a blissful union of memories that never fade. But my own definition was cruel.I was the pretty, well-bred accessory for Stanley Morgan, CEO of Morgan Holdings. The perfect wife to showcase at galas, the serene portrait of success to hang on his arm. In return, I got a life of gilded misery.My opinions were "naive." My friends were "distractions." My art, once the vibrant core of my being, was a "messy hobby." He controlled the money, the social calendar, the very air I breathed, always with a chilling, condescending smile. He didn't allow me to pursue my career, he told me he could provide everything and extend it to my mom who lives in Albany in the state of Georgia with my two younger siblings.Ba

~ Stanley ~The 18-hour flight from Singapore to Texas was a victory lap. I’d spent it sipping Macallan 25 and reviewing the contract in my mind. The Liang-Po account, a whale that had been teasing the industry for years, was finally mine. I’d snatched it right from under Alistair Croft’s aristocratic nose. I’d crushed him, expanded my empire, and the champagne had tasted like victory. I could almost hear his teeth grinding from here. The man was old-money etiquette, while I, Stanley Morgan, built an empire with grit and determination.The limo ride home was a continuation of the celebration. I barely noticed the Texas humidity as I strode up the manicured path to my house. My house. A testament to my success.Where is Jennifer? She should have been at the door, ready to welcome me and take my coat. Ungrateful bit*ch. Probably still moping about the miscarriage. A minor setback, and she’d turned it into a months-long melodrama.I strode up the walk, I didn't even have to use my key; t

Jennifer's POV The silence in my small Austin apartment was a living thing. It wasn’t peaceful; it was heavy, a thick blanket smothering the past.This was my self-imposed exile one year now. The whispers had become a roar. My name had become a whispered curse in the state I’d once called home.And the title was “Jennifer Morgan. The woman who put her billionaire husband in prison. Wicked. Unforgiving.”I saw it in the grocery store, at the gas station, in the pitying, judgmental eyes of former "friends." My own mother, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and disapproval, had asked, "Jennifer, was there no other way? The scandal... what will people think?" That was the day I disconnected, even from my best friend Lucy, who resides in the same state as my family. Sleep was my only true escape.nMy staff were concerned. But the silence was still there.It was during a fitful afternoon nap, tangled in sheets that still sometimes smelled of a phantom life, that the doorbell rang. T

Ben’s POV.The Morgan Gallery was too bright, too cheerful. Jennifer’s laughter, a sound I’d rarely heard, echoed off the polished concrete floors like a discordant bell. She was glowing, floating on a cloud of expensive silk and newfound happiness. A "remarkable man," she’d said. A man who gave her things, who took her to places with no menus.It made me sick.Not because I disliked her. The opposite, actually. Over the past year, playing the part of her loyal, gruff protector, I’d started to like Jennifer Morgan. I saw the steel beneath the grief, the sharp mind slowly re-emerging from the trauma. It was a complication I hadn't accounted for.But sentiment doesn't pay the kind of money Stanley Morgan was depositing into my offshore account.I waited until the gallery closed, until the last of the giddy staff had left, chattering about Jennifer’s mysterious benefactor. I drove my unremarkable car across town to a non descript office building that housed the law firm of Henderson & Sh