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Jenny is finally living the time of her life. She has always been a badass. Noah knew this before he got married to her. Her financial status was the only thing holding her back from achieving everything she finally wanted. He was the only one who brought her down to her knees. After catching him in a compromising situation with her best friend, she threatens him with a divorce and he finally agrees. She knows Noah wants her back. She swears she would never go back there. One phone call from him is all it takes him to bring her back crying to him. But what does he want from her? More torture? Or he doesn’t just know how to beg her to come back? It's up to her to decide what she wants to do with him.

I never thought a day would come when I would need to betray the person I loved the most, but here I am, biting my lip I looked over at him, and my heart ached: What am I doing? Why am I doing this? Can't I just run away with him? No, I can't I pressed the power button on my phone thrice. This is happening, this is so fucking happening. In less than a moment, the cop was standing outside the room we were in. He looked at me as he looked around. " Fuck, come we have to run," he whispered, holding my hand in his. Moving ahead, but I didn't. Raising an eyebrow, his eyes stared into mine. " I called them," I could see the heartbreak in his eyes. "Why?" He asked. " Because it's the right thing to do," "You know we are leaving, whether you agree or not," his voice was dark as I stared into his eyes. "Don't make me do this to you," he said, grabbing my throat. I didn't flinch, he could never hurt me. The pressure on my throat increased, but I tried to keep it down, trying not to show it in my face. "Don't push me," he roared. "Please..."

It was just another morning commute—until he happened. Across the train aisle sat a man who looked like he’d stepped out of a high-end magazine and straight into a power struggle. His voice sliced through the air, sharp and commanding, as he chewed someone out over the phone like he ran the damn universe. Arrogant. Entitled. Dressed like a Wall Street god. Correction: he looked like a god. That’s where the charm ended—or so I thought. When the train screeched to a stop, he stood up in a hurry, stormed off… and left his phone behind. Did I pick it up? Yep. Did I snoop? Absolutely. Photos, contacts, a few mysterious texts—I couldn’t help myself. Did I keep it longer than I should’ve, building stories in my head about the man behind the voice? Yeah… I did that too. When I finally gathered enough nerve to return it, I marched into the glass-and-steel fortress he called an office. He wouldn’t even come out to meet me. So I dropped his phone on the desk outside his office door. And maybe—I left a photo on it first. Not exactly the professional kind. What I didn’t expect? A message. From him. What followed were late-night texts that burned hotter than anything I’d ever known. Words became whispers. Whispers turned into fantasies. I was falling—for someone I hadn’t even really met. He and I? Total opposites. Fire and ice. Chaos and control. But when we finally came face to face, it wasn’t just sparks. It was an inferno. What happened next? Let’s just say… falling for him was the easy part. Surviving what came after? That’s where the real story began.

Je suis entrée en fauteuil roulant dans le salon de réception que Wells avait préparé pour mon anniversaire, l'immense salle, qui bourdonnait d'animation quelques instants plus tôt, s'est figée quand ils m'ont aperçue. Ils sont tous venus ici pour leurs propres raisons, mais certainement pas pour célébrer mon anniversaire. « Voilà donc la fiancée handicapée du président Wells, mademoiselle Joy ? » « Oui, mais le vrai amour n'existe qu'entre Wells et Anna, je les ai vus s'embrasser dans un coin à l'instant. » Ils dissimulaient leurs murmures derrière leurs coupes de champagne, persuadés que j'étais toujours cette ancienne invalide muette et sourde. Mais ce qu'ils ne savaient pas que, depuis la semaine dernière, j'ai recouvré l'ouïe, aujourd'hui, je perçois chacune de leurs railleries. Mon fiancé, Wells, se tenait à l'écart sans rien faire pour défendre mon honneur. Il avait semblé oublier que c'est pour le protéger que j'ai sacrifié ma mobilité, le jour de l'accident, c'est moi qui l'ai écarté de la trajectoire de la voiture, me jetant sous ses roues. Lorsqu'on m'a ramenée à la vie, Wells avait juré de rester à mes côtés pour prendre soin de moi pour toujours. Mais après trois ans, tout a changé. Mon téléphone a vibré. « Mademoiselle Joy, la réplique de votre corps est prête. Répondez 'CONFIRMER' pour activer immédiatement le service de fausse mort. Nous livrerons la dépouille à votre noce avec Monsieur Wells dans cinq jours.  » Sans hésiter, j'ai tapé « CONFIRMER  ». Wells, je te souhaite un merveilleux jour de noces.

Everyone knew Harper Jones was hopelessly devoted to Silas Underwood. Five years ago, she gave up her dreams to care for him after he lost the use of his legs. She believed that sincerity, if deep enough, would be returned in kind. But on the eve of their wedding, Silas went and registered his marriage with someone else—his first love, the one he never really let go. Only then did she understand: in his heart, she was nothing more than a blade of grass—trampled, unnoticed. Five years of humility. Five years of willing humiliation. She had finally learned her lesson. She picked up the phone and called her family. "I'll go through with the arranged marriage," she said. What she didn't expect was that the day she got married would also be his wedding day. When Silas stepped out of his car, he saw Harper, dressed in white, radiant, about to become someone else's bride. In that moment, the man who had always believed she would never leave him finally broke. "Harper… Nothing happened between me and Sophie. I was wrong. Please, forgive me…" He knelt in front of Harper, begging and sobbing, like a man with nothing left to hold onto. Harper looked down at him, the way one might look at a stray dog on the street. There was no ripple in her heart. No sympathy. No anger. Just stillness. "Love that comes too late is worthless," she said. "Now go step up and be a real father to her kid."