How To Wake A Sleeping Lady

Even knowing that wailing at an Eravalen aristocratic funeral was considered disrespectful to the deceased, I let my husband's adopted sister make a scene anyway. In my previous life, my husband, Robert Baker, had a distant relative among the Eravalen aristocracy who passed away. A lawyer informed him that he stood to inherit the estate and invited him to attend the funeral. His adopted sister, Mia Carter, insisted on tagging along to see how the privileged few in another country lived. She wanted to rub shoulders with nobles and make herself look important, even planning to wail dramatically in front of everyone. I rushed to stop her. "Loud mourning is taboo among the Eravalen nobility. Forget inheriting anything. We'll all be thrown out!" Yet she burst into tears, accusing me of looking down on her and thinking she was not good enough to mingle with aristocrats. She stormed out and was killed by street thugs in a random attack. I thought Robert would fall apart, but he stayed silent through the entire funeral and collected his inheritance without a hitch. Six months later, on our wedding anniversary, he took me to the snowy mountains for a photoshoot. The moment we reached the peak, he shoved me into a sleeping bag and tied it shut. "If you hadn't blown everything out of proportion, Mia never would've run off and gotten herself shot." He buried me alive in the snow. I froze to death, and he used that aristocratic fortune to become the CEO of a publicly traded company. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Mia insisted on wailing at the funeral.

"What do you want, Lila?" he asked, his voice dropping as he took in her confident posture. It was a question filled with both dread and anticipation. She smiled, a slow, seductive curl of her lips. "I've shown you how much I care about you. I want you to give me what I deserve." She stepped back, her hand reaching behind her to unzip her uniform. She slid it down her shoulders and let the dress pool at her feet. She stood in her lace undergarments, watching as his eyes raked her body. " I want you to fuck me, Alexander." In the gilded halls of the Harrington estate, appearances are everything. Victoria Harrington is the perfect wife, and Alexander Harrington is the epitome of success. But beneath the surface of their flawless lives, secrets fester in the shadows. When Lila Evans, a quiet and unassuming waiting lady, enters their world, the delicate balance of power begins to shift. What starts as a dangerous attraction soon spirals into a web of lies, betrayal, and scandal that threatens to unravel the very fabric of the Harrington’s’ carefully curated existence. As hidden truths come to light and past sins resurface, loyalties will be tested, and no one will escape unscathed. In a world where trust is fragile and deception is the norm, one wrong move could bring it all crashing down. How far will they go to protect their secrets? And who will be left standing when the dust settles?

At Blackwood Academy, the best way for the weak to survive is to be invisible. Gwendolyn lived like that—hiding behind thick glasses, an outdated hairstyle, and oversized uniforms to conceal her true beauty. She accepted being ridiculed as a clumsy nerd for peace. No one knew she was actually the heiress of a top-tier powerful conglomerate. However, endurance could not shield her from the cruelty of high society. A merciless romantic bet exposed, her sincerity turned into a joke, and a cold rejection from her family drove her into a fateful rainy night. Falling into the abyss, Gwen thought death would end it all. But she didn't die; she only awakened. After the summer break, Gwen returned with a sharp, layered haircut, a refined style, and a cold, independent aura. She didn't care about revenge because those who once trampled on her were no longer in her league. She only wanted peace. Yet, the tree wishes to be still, but the wind will not subside. The instigator of the bet grows restless; the boy who once ignored her now begs for her gaze; and the elite try to corner her again. They forget that the line between a lamb and an alpha White Wolf is paper-thin. If any fool dares to cross the line, Gwen will use her terrifying capability and family backing to crush their pride under her heels. The chessboard has flipped. Do not anger a wealthy heiress seeking peace, and absolutely... Do not wake the White Wolf!

My husband, Matt Miller, suffers from severe insomnia. He can't stand a little bit of noise while he's asleep. After six years of marriage, I've gotten used to the quiet. I don't watch TV after 9:00 pm. I don't make calls or eat. I even walk on tiptoes. Everything feels worth it when I see him sleeping soundly. Until one day, when I go to his office to deliver some documents, I realize the door isn't tightly shut. His secretary, Faye Davis, is sitting cross-legged on the carpet while eating potato chips. A variety show is playing loudly in the background. Meanwhile, Matt is asleep on the couch. Just as Faye reaches forward to turn down the volume, he raises his hand and strokes her hair, all the while keeping his eyes closed. "It's okay. I sleep better with the noise." I stand outside the door, recalling the bad cold I had last month. Afraid that my coughing would wake him up, I had buried my head into the pillow all night. The next day, he frowned and complained, "You were breathing so loudly last night. I couldn't sleep at all. Keep it down next time." Amid the crunching sounds of potato chips and Matt's steady breathing, I slowly step back. Turns out the cure to his insomnia isn't silence, but a woman. Only that woman isn't me. I guess I won't be bothering him at night anymore.

The Duke was standing in the middle of the room, his hands in his pockets, his head tilted to one side. It was a relaxed, casual pose, and yet the way he looked at her was anything but casual. The deep midnight of his eyes burned and he radiated a subtle, sensual energy that made the air around him crackle. He looked like a man who’d never heard the word ‘no’ in all his life. Unluckily for him, ‘no’ was the only word she had. “There's no reason why I should stay,” Anna clasped her shaking hands together in an effort to still them. “I’m not marrying you.” His gaze flickered, his mouth curving slightly, and she had the disturbing thought that far from putting him off, her insistence was only inciting him further. “But you haven’t heard my proposal yet,” he said mildly. “Isn’t that why you’re here?” “I don’t need to hear it. I already know that my answer will be no.” “Of course. But you can hardly tell your father that you heard me out when you haven’t, in fact, heard me out…. Anna.”

She was his stepmother's maid, sold into servitude as a child. Her world was confined to the mansion and its farmland, dreaming of a freedom she had never known. He was her mistress’s stepson, a man admired by every woman, an influential businessman whose name carried weight across the country. Returning to the estate after years away, he never expected to find something or someone worth noticing here until he saw her. He was mesmerized by her beauty and the subtle sorrow in her eyes held him completely captivated. And for the first time in a long while, he found himself wanting to know more about this particular lady, explore her mysterious world. Would he be the one to shatter her last hope of freedom or the one to set her free from the bounding walls of the mansion?