What Happened To The Band They Sold In 2023?

For three years, I was nothing but a replacement. After my hundredth blood donation to my three wives' true love, I vanished from their lives. They bombarded my phones with thousands of phone calls and ten times that number of text messages. 'I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, honey! I know I let our mom down. You can do anything to me, but please don't leave me!' 'Please, honey, I'm sorry. I'll do anything. I won't do it again, I swear! Just come back!' 'You can't leave me, honey! You're going to drive me mad! I can't live without you!' 'Please, just tell me where you are! Take my call, please!' … I changed my SIM card once I went back to Imperia and blocked all my wives' contacts. Peace and quiet came back to me. Three months later, I was told that my wives' companies went bust, and the love of their lives swindled them out of every single cent they had. And now they were scouring the land for me. That was a joke. They did not panic when they still had everything. They should never have done what they did. Too late for regrets.

He was my savior. Until he became the man who sold me. I thought my brother Kian was my only protector in a neighborhood ruled by blood. Until he sold me to the Graves Triplets, the most dangerous men in the city, to save his own skin. Now, I belonged to them. Locked away in their gigantic estate, I'm no longer a girl with a future. I was the Graves' property. One to lead me, one to break me, and one to manipulate my every thought. They didn't just want my body; they wanted my surrender. The debt was $10 million. The payment was every inch of my skin. WARNING: THIS IS A DARK, HIGH-HEAT REVERSE HAREM ROMANCE. IT CONTAINS THEMES OF KIDNAPPING, FORCED PROXIMITY, AND EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT. INTENDED FOR AUDIENCES 18+ ONLY.

Seven years ago... I was his stalker. Three years ago... I was his wife. Two years ago... I was his ex-wife. Since the day he left me, my life has never been the same. It seems like I gathered all life's misfortunes - my mother died from cancer, our family business went down, and my dad could not face the shame, so he killed himself, leaving me to take on the responsibilities of paying his debts. I have to work hard to make ends meet. I worked as a baker, a dance instructor, and an entertainer to pay the debts as well as to support myself. I was trying to be okay until he came back. He manipulated everything - owned the bakeshop where I worked as a baker, paid me to give him private dance classes, and made me agree to perform in private with him. Do you think that is already worse? Nah-uh! He paid my family's debt in the banks, so I am obliged to pay him based on his terms. I am Patricia Sandoval, sold to Stuart Cordoval - I am his personal assistant, private chef, personal dance instructor, exclusive entertainer, and on-call bedwarmer for my beloved ex-husband. This may sound absurd, but yes, I am sold to my ex-husband.

I made a deal with the Devil. My soul, in exchange for seven days on earth after I died. The eleventh hour after my death happened to fall on our third wedding anniversary. The moment I walked through the door, he had just come home from another woman's place. He had an anniversary gift waiting for me. A set of sapphires. But the card tucked beside them bore another woman's name. I spotted a pale lavender hair tie in his hand. Once, I would have fought him over a hair tie like that, all the way from the front hall to the study. This time, I said nothing. It was him who froze instead, staring at me like I was a stranger. "You didn't used to be like this. I almost miss the way you used to fall apart over everything." He was right. The old me would have thrown a fit over something as small as him forgetting to cut my steak. But ever since the miscarriage, my heart had been dying by slow degrees. When I found out I was pregnant, I was overjoyed. I wanted him to be the first to know. But I couldn't reach him, no matter how many times I called. I lost the baby. I hemorrhaged. That very afternoon, while I lay on the operating table, a photo of him and that woman hit the entertainment headlines. He never even knew I had carried a child. Now there was only one last thing I wanted from him. To drive me up to the northern coast, and bury me with his own hands. But when he realized I had truly vanished from this world, he came undone.

“Sign it.” Axton’s calm voice echoed in the room. The kind of calm that made silence deafening. He pushed the divorce papers across the polished desk, his expression cold and composed. The pen rolled until it stopped in front of her hand. Isla’s fingers trembled slightly as she picked it up. The golden ring on her finger glinted under the office light, a cruel reminder of everything that was about to end. Three years of marriage, three years of smiles and unspoken tenderness, now reduced to a signature line. They had never married for love, binded by a contract signed for convenience, destined to expire the moment it no longer served its purpose. And yet somewhere along the way, Isla had forgotten it was only temporary.

His songs were better when he had a broken heart. That sentence would change my life after my dream job was dished to me on a shiny, silver platter. All I had to do? Hurt Nash Pierce enough to get him writing good music again. The pop icon’s songs were no longer the phenomena they used to be. His team needed another breakthrough album—like the first he’d penned, using his heartbreak as fuel. The plan was simple: I’d go on tour with him as a backup dancer…and make him fall in love with me. I was hired to inspire—to become embedded into every lyric he wrote. Then, I was to set fire to it all—to destroy every feeling we hoped he’d develop for me. It seemed simple enough. Easy, even. I didn’t expect to be consumed myself—to see so much in the man displayed in the tabloids. I didn’t foresee falling for him. It didn’t occur to me that, while attempting to break his heart, I might just shatter my own. Most of all, I never thought I’d fight so hard to hold on to a relationship that had always been founded on goodbye.