A Ha Scoundrel Days Mga Nobela at Kwento

“Scorned? Please. Amber and I started seeing each other after she separated from him. He knows that, but he’s twisting the story to fit his narrative.” “Of course he is,” Tom said. “And unfortunately, people love a good scandal, so they’ll eat up whatever version gets them the most drama.” He sighed and leaned forward. “Look, since Amber is connected to you and by extension, the company, we need to handle this carefully. Right now, it’s just gossip, but if we don’t take control of the story, it could turn into a full-blown scandal. And that’s the last thing we need.” I nodded. “I expected as much. What’s your plan?”

"I can't give you the whole world, but I'm willing to give you everything. Nala Brown, will you marry me?" At that moment, it felt like I had the entire world in my hands. The dream shifted, and it jumped to our second wedding anniversary. I waited for Caleb for two hours, but in the end, he told me the company had an emergency and stood me up for our candlelight dinner. Later, I received an anonymous email and found out Sadie had returned to the country that very day. He had thrown her a grand welcome party, with flowers and loud music. From that day on, he began to come home late. The nights he didn't come home at all grew more frequent. Sometimes, in the dead of night, when he was tangled

Trust was a luxury I could no longer afford. The meeting link led me to a new browser tab that flickered to life after a brief second of lag. The screen resolved into the image of a sharp-featured, middle-aged woman with vibrant red hair pulled into a severe bun. She wore a well-pressed chiffon white shirt with billowy sleeves. She was seated behind a sleek, modern desk, a backdrop of a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf filled with colorful spines visible behind her. "Good morning, Ms. Holloway. I'm Thelma Scott, an Acquisition Editor here at Barnaby Press. It's a pleasure to meet you," she greeted, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

People she once called friends were reposting the scandal with captions like ‘Never expected this from her. Her hand shook as she turned the phone off completely. She wanted to disappear. Across the city, in a glass-walled penthouse overlooking the Thames, Roy Sinclair nursed a cup of black coffee, scrolling through his phone with a grim expression. “Mate, you’re trending everywhere,” his friend Aaron said from the couch, smirking. “Not the kind of PR you like, huh? ‘Mystery Billionaire Spends Night with Bride-to-Be.’ Classic.” Roy shot him a sharp glare. “It’s not funny.”