Why Does Lilia Keep Running In Last Night In Montreal?

God didn't hire me to play guardian angel. He'd send the devil instead and he did in the form of a woman. It's her. My downfall, my saviour, my redemption, my woman. Run, Camille, Run.

From being a nobody, Lila's life was turned upside down, when Lucas, an ultimately popular guy from high school and the man of her dreams, hired her to become his tutor. Her once simple and peaceful life started to become chaotic, problems arose and tragedy occurred. If this is what it takes to be with the man she loves, will she decide to stay? If not, will she ever get away from him, if he is already holding her heart?

Lilian Jackson has the worst luck, between balancing multiple jobs, playing the role of both parents for her siblings, managing her alcoholic father and paying back her student loans, 24 hours is just not enough for her. As if that's not enough life throws her a curveball in the form of a life threatening heart disease. "I must be paying my debts from my past life for all this to be happening to me" There is Byron Bladell, heir to a multi-million chain of restaurants and CEO in his own right. He is tall, rich, handsome and seems to have it all with a loving family and a beautiful girlfriend. The world sees him as the most eligible bachelor in town but he is chasing a shadow from his past. Their lives intertwine as pictures of their chanced meeting sweeps the internet suggesting an intimate relationship. "It's just a rumor" Lilian attempts to convince everyone. "Why don't you just marry me" Bryon suggests. In what seems like the answer to both their problems, Lillian and Byron enter a contract marriage. The initial indifference towards each other fade as they stay under a roof and play the part of a loving couple to outside world. The lines between acting and reality start to blur as their emotions come to play. Without the pressure of providing for her family, Lilian regains her fierce and cheerful attitude which mirrors someone from Byron’s past. It's just a fake relationship but what was happening to her heart. "Is this a symptom of my heart disease or is my heart racing for him?" It is the journey of two hurting souls finally finding healing from their past and inner peace, after all it all started with a racing heart.

Lilith: I don’t believe in love, I believe in truth. If you can tell me what’s on your mind and accept what’s on mine we will get along fine. I just discharged from army intelligence and am looking to calm my life down with my handsome man. My son Jax. I’ve been single since my ex passed and am not looking but my friend Kelly seems to forget that. God love her she is the best friend a girl could ask for but I could do without the matchmaking... Damian: I don’t know what’s out there. Don’t care either. All I care about is my club, my bike and my best friend Brody. We’ve had each other’s backs forever. And even though he is a playboy he always comes through when your in a bind. And that’s why he’s my VP. He thinks he’s found his One and while I’m not too sure about this girl he’s happy and that’s all that counts. Now he believes I need a woman and he can kiss my ass. I don’t need anyone on the back of my bike when I got a whole club on my shoulders.

I'm Lilith. My biggest trauma used to be my dad forgetting to book my Santorini villa, I know, the absolute horror of it all. I had the Porsche, the diamonds, the designer wardrobe that took up two whole rooms, and Jax, the perfect boyfriend who looked at me like I hung the moon. I thought I was the main character. Plot twist? I was wrong. Turns out I wasn't being raised as the Alpha's darling. I was being fattened up for slaughter. My parents didn't love me, they were just my wardens, keeping me soft and pretty and completely clueless. And that Gala everyone kept whispering about? Not my debutante ball. An auction. I got sold to the Triad like a piece of art, like a handbag, like I was something to own. The Triad. Three terrifying, bloodthirsty Alphas who make the monsters under your bed look like stuffed animals. They need me for some twisted prophecy I never signed up for, and they don't care what I want. Obviously. And the cherry on top of this hot-mess express? Jax held the door open for them. My perfect boyfriend counted his money while they dragged me away. They think they can break the spoiled princess. They think I'm just a "Spawn of Lilith" meant to be served on a silver platter. Soft and sweet and easy to swallow. Here's what they don't get. When you take away a girl's credit cards, her freedom, her whole damn life? The monster underneath is way more expensive to deal with than a few Birkins ever were.

Everyone knew Elio Carbone, Don of the Carbone family, was a cold-hearted womanizer. He had one rule: never sleep with the same woman twice. But for me, he broke it. The first day after our breakup, he stood outside the old Bianchi estate for a day and a night, his entire security detail in tow, just to win me back. The second day, he flew to Sicily and bought the deed to my family's ancestral estate at auction for triple its value, and had it delivered to me. The third day, he tattooed my favorite flower, the lily, over his heart. The tattoo artist said he refused any anesthetic and didn't make a sound. Later, at a banquet for the Five Families, in front of all the other Dons, he sliced his palm and made a blood oath. He swore loyalty only to Eleonora Bianchi for the rest of his life; if he broke his vow, he would pay with his life. After a year of his relentless pursuit, his devotion finally wore me down, and I agreed to take him back. I truly believed him then. That Elio truly loved me. Until one night. He took me to an underground racetrack to broker a deal with an ally. But in the roaring crowd, I saw a girl, trembling and crying, her clothes in tatters. Ava was shoved to the starting line. She was the wager for the death race. One look was all it took for Elio's face to darken. The next second, he dropped his hand from my waist and, without a word, walked toward the track entrance. I stood frozen, watching his back as he disappeared into the driver's seat of a modified sports car. I used to wake up crying, terrified he would lose his life in one of these reckless races. He had smashed his trophies, burned his marker for the illegal track, and sworn to God he would never again enter such a life-or-death gamble. My hand drifted to my stomach, covering the secret I hadn't yet had the chance to share. His blood oath was broken. And so was I.