Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 1 - Chapitre 5

Sophia stood before the floor-to-ceiling mirror, adjusting a stray pearl at her collar. Her reflection was a portrait of poise, but beneath the surface, adrenaline hummed like a live wire. Outside the estate, a rhythmic thrum of a string quartet warmed up in the gardens, punctuated by the sharp, urgent staccato of caterers coordinating a thousand white lilies."Everything is flawless, Ms. Hart," the event planner said, hovering just outside her peripheral vision, her tablet glowing with a sprawling itinerary. "The Kingston family crest is iced onto every macaron, the lighting is calibrated for sunset vows, and we are exactly twenty minutes ahead of schedule."Sophia offered a tight, professional smile, her eyes scanning the room. "And Alexander? Has he finished with his mother in the study?"The planner hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face—the first crack in the day's perfect veneer. "The head of security mentioned he stepped out to take a call. You know how the Kings

ALEXANDER KINGSTON POV;****************Alexander Kingston lived in a world of absolute control. For five years, he had meticulously rebuilt the fragments of his life, turning his grief into concrete and his fury into a financial empire. He had convinced himself that the past was dead, buried under the foundation of the very buildings he constructed.Then, she walked into his boardroom.When Sophia Hart stepped through the double doors, Alexander’s heart didn't just skip a beat; it felt as though it had been violently torn from his chest. He sat frozen as his high-backed chair rotated, his eyes locking onto a ghost.Sophia.She looked different. The soft, radiant girl who used to laugh into his shoulder had been replaced by a woman made of polished marble and razor-sharp angles. Her charcoal blazer tailored her like armor, and her eyes—once so warm—were shards of absolute ice.Listening to her speak was a form of refined torture. When she threw his own past words back at him—“Unlike

The salt air of the coast was meant to be a balm, a place where the edges of the world blurred into an indifferent gray horizon. For three weeks, Sophia had existed in a state of suspended animation. She lived in a drafty, two-room cottage where the floorboards groaned under the weight of her aimless pacing and the windows rattled with every gust of wind coming off the Atlantic. She had brought nothing but a single suitcase and the ruin of her pride.The humiliation was a physical weight, a pressure in her chest that made drawing a full breath feel like an impossibility. She had stopped checking her phone days ago; the silence was safer than the digital taunts of a society that had watched her be left at the altar by Alexander Kingston.But it wasn't just her own shattered life she was mourning. She placed a trembling hand over her stomach. Six weeks. She had found out just days before the wedding, a beautiful secret she had intended to gift Alexander on their honeymoon. Now, it felt