How Does Scotch On The Rocks End?

I'm dying at seven months pregnant, and the one behind it is my husband. Hearing that a premature baby's blood can save my sister, he conspires with a shady clinic to take the baby out through surgery. After draining the baby's blood, he walks away—leaving my fragile preemie to die. Later, my parents say, "You owe Yvie. It's time to repay her." My husband says, "We can always have another child. A baby's life can't possibly be more important than Yvie's, can it? The overwhelming rage and grief cause me to bleed to death. My soul floats above them as I watch them prepare my sister's surgery. They don't even bother to change me into clean clothes. No one mourns me. No one loses their mind over my death. Without a care, they wheel me into the morgue and celebrate Yvonne's recovery. When I open my eyes again, I've gone back three months earlier—to the day my whole family forced me to divorce.

My husband is poor. We've already been married for three years, but I've covered all our expenses during that time. Even when I'm interested in a cheap bag when we go shopping, he says it's too expensive. He tells me not to buy it. Later, I discover that he gives his first love a four-million-dollar diamond necklace for her birthday. It turns out he's not broke and heavily in debt—he's the heir to an affluent family with a net worth of billions of dollars.

A billionaire heiress betrayed. Two ruthless Scottish mafia twins who’ll stop at nothing to claim her. Danger, obsession, and a love worth starting a war for. Time to burn it all to the fucking ground.... He was the love of my life. My husband. My mistake. Cole Harrington.... Hollywood's golden boy. The man I pulled from obscurity and handed a career on a silver platter. The man I defended, supported, and loved... until I walked in on him naked in his dressing room, balls deep in his co-star like it was the scene of his life. That was the moment something in me snapped. I'm done being the quiet, supportive wife in the background. My name is Eilidh MacLeod, and I was somebody long before I met him. Scottish Billionaire heiress. Former child star. Acclaimed actress and dancer. The woman who built him... and the one who's going to break him. Now it's my turn. I'm taking back my life, my career, my crown, and I'm burning every bridge, every lie, and every ounce of him to the ground. And somewhere between the chaos, the paparazzi, and the sweet taste of revenge, I meet them. Two men. Twins. Dangerously gorgeous, shamelessly charming, and utterly off limits... except they make me feel more alive than I ever have. They show me what real love is, raw, wild, and unconditional, and they just may run the Scottish Mafia. By the time I'm done, Cole won't just lose me. He'll lose everything. And I'll be walking away with my heart, my freedom... and maybe two men who would set the world on fire just to keep me.

It all started the night Audrey was sent to serve drinks to one of the guests who was in room 112. Beginning Audrey's step sister, Annie had been plotting deviously against her months, her envy and resentment growing with every passing day. Finally deciding the time is right, Annie approaches Audrey's manager at the hotel she worked at, Mr Frost with her plan. They would drug Audrey and give her a bottle of wine to deliver, claiming it is a special drink for a VIP client. Unknown to Audrey, the plan is to trap her in a compromising position with a vile old man, Mr Santiago and record them having sex. The night of the incident, Audrey, unaware of the danger is drugged and presented with the seemingly innocent bottle of wine and asked to deliver it to a client in room 112. Under the influence of the drugs, Audrey goes into room 114 instead of the intended room 112. Mistakenly believing she was meeting Mr Santiago, she finds herself alone in the room with a wealthy powerful man named Rex. The night soon becomes a blur of passion, clouded by the effects of the drug. Audrey has sex with the stranger, Rex.

At the dinner celebrating our fifth wedding anniversary, I held the pregnancy test report in my pocket, planning to surprise my CEO husband. However, the moment the doors opened, I froze. A stunning woman stood there with her arm intimately linked through my husband's. She clung to Charles Lawrence with the ease and confidence of someone who clearly belonged at his side, carrying herself like the lady of the house. Neither Charles nor the guests found it strange. If anything, they seemed entertained. Someone even joked, "Mr. Lawrence and Ms. Cooper aren't just ideal partners at work. Their chemistry is something to admire as well. I've personally reserved the presidential suite at Jubilee City's finest resort for Mr. Lawrence tonight. You can be sure no one will disturb you." Fiona blushed and slipped shyly into Charles's arms. He lowered his head and kissed her hard. They fit together so naturally, so intimately, that the sight was unbearably glaring. My thoughts flashed back to the night before, when Charles had pressed me into the bed. In that moment, I had caught sight of a strange message sent by someone named Fiona: [Everyone in the company thinks we've slept together.] Charles had explained that Fiona was only his assistant, a forty-year-old woman, and that the message was nothing more than a punishment from a lost game, a foolish dare. That explanation had dissolved my suspicion and anger. Then, I finally saw the truth. I was the one who had lost everything. Inside my pocket, the pregnancy report was crushed into a tight ball. I forced the tears back, stepped away, and opened the invitation from the National Aerospace Research Institute on my phone. Without hesitation, I tapped Accept. Three days later, I would vanish completely from Charles's world.

In the summer of 1990, Rachel Weber spent a week down on the Florida coast, soaking up the sun's rays while she waited for her life to begin. It was there that she met Dean Sherman, a handsome, muscular soldier with crystal blue eyes. The two spent a week together full of champagne kisses that only ended when Operation Desert Storm forced Dean to choose between his duty and his love. He chose duty. Twenty years later, Rachel figured it was just summer love, but she never forgot those eyes. As personal assistant to powerful billionaire Jack Saunders, she never expected Dean to walk into her office after being hired as Jack's personal bodyguard. Even though she had spent the last two decades trying to forget Dean, she found herself falling for him once again. When fate forced both Rachel and Dean to choose yet again between love and duty, Rachel had to decide between the man she had always loved and the family that had become her life. She knew she couldn't have both, but she knew she wouldn't be happy with just one. Would she choose love, or be forever haunted by the memory of those Champagne Kisses?