Where Can I Read 'As He Saw It' Online For Free?

Avery Tate was forced to marry a bigshot by her stepmother as her father's company was on the verge of bankruptcy. There was a catch, the bigshot—Elliot Foster—was in a state of coma. In the public’s eye, it was only a matter of time until she was deemed a widow and be kicked out of the family.A twist of event happened when Elliot unexpectedly woke up from his coma.Fuming at his marriage situation, he lashed out on Avery and threatened to kill their babies if they had any. “I’ll kill them with my very hands!” he bawled.Four years had passed when Avery returned to her homeland with her fraternal twins—a boy and a girl.As she pointed at Elliot’s face on a TV screen, she reminded her babies, “Stay far away from this man, he’s sworn to kill you both.” That night, Elliot’s computer was hacked and he was challenged—by one of the twins—to kill them. “Come and get me, *sshole!”

In the third year of her marriage, Natalie Spencer uncovers a devastating truth. Her blindness wasn't caused by a car accident. No, it was because her beloved husband, Jason Pereira, plotted to have her corneas removed and transplanted them into his first love. The only reason he married her in the first place was to save that other woman. The marriage Natalie once took pride in turns out to be nothing but a calculated lie. Crushed, she quietly begins planning her escape. Half a month later, she vanishes without warning. She leaves behind nothing but a signed divorce agreement and a jar of formaldehyde containing an undeveloped embryo. Those are her final gifts to Jason. He loses his mind searching for her, scouring the world in desperation. But when he finally finds her, she's no longer alone. There's another man by her side. Jason stands in front of her, eyes red with guilt and regret. "Natalie, I was wrong. Please don't leave me. Not like this." But the Natalie standing before him now is radiant and powerful—she's an internationally acclaimed artist and a woman reborn. She looks at the man she once loved and feels nothing. "Jason, I'm not that blind bat who used to live and breathe for you anymore." She turns and wraps her arms around the regal man beside her with a smile. "Someone's bothering your wife. Aren't you going to deal with him?" The man smiles back, leans in, and kisses her in front of everyone. "Of course. Whatever my wife says, goes."

I can’t tell if we’re at war… or dancing around something far more dangerous. Getting traded to the Montreal Bears should’ve been a dream come true, the team I grew up idolizing, the jersey I always wanted to wear. Except there’s one problem. Luca Moretti. The NHL’s notorious bad boy. My new right wing. And the one man who’s made it his mission to outshine me at every turn. Too bad for him I’m faster, sharper, and my numbers don’t lie. Not that I’m competing. I’d never sink to his level. He’s reckless, infuriating, and impossible to ignore a storm of chaos that throws me completely off balance. When we’re not clashing on the ice, he pushes my buttons with teasing nicknames like Princess, Pretty Boy, and Babygirl. I hate it. I swear I do. So why does my body react like I don’t? Contain Explicit Content

His voice dropped lower. “You saw the news, didn’t you? The little warning on the LED TV?” Her eyes flickered. “…Yes, sir.” “Then why didn’t you turn back?” Her mouth opened, but no words came out. “And you saw they’ve never shown my face on the news.” He tapped his temple, eyes glinting. “But now you’re staring right at me. You know exactly what I look like. You think I’ll let you walk away?” “No! Please!” Isabella’s voice cracked, tears falling. “I promise with my mother’s grave—I’ll never speak of this! Please, just spare me!” Alessandro smirked, lifting his gun. “People like you swear. People like you also betray. Let’s see…” Her whole body locked. “No, no, please—” The gun fired. Isabella screamed. But when she opened her eyes, the bullet hole smoked in the wooden floor beside her. Her chest heaved. Her hands shook. She collapsed onto the ground, sobbing. Alessandro leaned back, laughing softly. Then—something in her snapped. She pushed herself up on trembling legs. “You want to kill me? Then fucking do it!” His brows lifted. “What the fuck is wrong with you gangsters?” she yelled, her voice shaking. “Do I look like someone who can hurt you? You almost made me wet my pants out there with your bullets. Do you think that’s funny?” One of his men growled, stepping forward, hand raised. “How dare you talk to the boss like that—” “Stop,” Alessandro ordered sharply, raising his hand without taking his eyes off her. Isabella’s chest heaved. “You think taking lives is funny?” She beat her chest with her fist. “Fine. I’m going to walk out that door right now. Shoot me if you want.”

I have a secret. When I touch someone, I see the face of the person they love most. Since Natalie moved in next door when we were seven, I always saw myself in her heart. At eighteen, when she held my hand—it was me. At twenty-two, when she proposed—it was me. On our wedding night, when she kissed me—it was still me. On the morning of our third anniversary, I fixed the hem of her dress. My fingers grazed her ankle. Out of habit, I closed my eyes. This time, I saw two faces. Mine. And some guy I'd never seen before. That night, Natalie's phone lit up. [Thanks for spending today with me, Natalie.] Twenty-one years. A hundred thousand touches. And for the first time, I was wrong.

Five years after our divorce, my ex-husband, Alex Walsh, reserved the most expensive restaurant on the Hudson for Lydia Grant's birthday. She was Hollywood royalty. I was the ex-wife he wanted the world to forget. I stood outside with a white cane in one hand and five-dollar bunches of red roses in the other, trying to sell them to strangers. A dark red carpet stretched across the entrance, with reporters and fans packed behind the barricades. Whenever camera flashes exploded, I knew from the cheers that another celebrity had arrived. Security had chased me off more than once, but the diners here tipped well, and I was still twenty dollars short of the ingredients for my son's birthday cake. Five years ago, I had taken a seven-hundred-thousand-dollar check from his mother and gone along with the affair scandal she staged. Now an advanced meningioma had crushed my optic nerves and left me completely blind. The moment Alex recognized me, he kicked over my flower basket and flung a stack of bills into my face. "You had no trouble taking that check five years ago. How'd you end up selling flowers on the street?" He pulled Lydia, a woman who looked disturbingly like me, against his side. His voice turned to ice. "Open your eyes and look. I replaced you with someone better." I dropped to my knees and felt across the pavement for the scattered bills. When my fingers found one, I turned toward his voice. "Sir, would you like to buy a rose?"