Noticed Synonym

“You’ll do exactly as I say,” she whispered coldly, “starting with the man you’ll marry tomorrow.” Selena was designated to marry the Billionaire, until Mitchell noticed that he was going broke. Hence she pushed her other, legitimate daughter into the pit to marry the Broke Billionaire. What happens when it's revealed that he isn't a billionaire going broke, but a Trillionaire in control of global industries?

[WARNING: This novel contains EXPLICIT CONTENT. Not suitable for YOUNG READERS] My naivety was immediately noticed when I tried reciprocating his kisses. Ethan paused and looked deeply into my eyes as if he was trying to draw energy from mine “I can wait,” he whispered while caressing my hair. “Go on” I said without hesitation. I was already lost in passion. I was so f*cking h*rny. In my own defence, he is now my husband and so there's nothing wrong with that.

Elena had once believed that silence could mean safety. That a gentle hand and a warm cup of tea placed quietly on her desk every morning could be a form of love. Lucien was never cruel—not in the obvious ways. He remembered how she liked her eggs, noticed when she swapped her perfume, and sent flowers on days he knew she wouldn’t expect them. He raised her like one would raise a pet—softly, without question. And Elena, foolish in the way only the very lonely can be, mistook his quiet affection for devotion. She told herself he was reserved. Mysterious. That love didn’t always wear its heart on its sleeve. But when the old flame returned—the one who spoke his language without needing to try—Elena saw it. The difference. He looked at her like a man who had found his lost religion. And Elena? She had simply been convenient. No tears, no scene. Just papers on the breakfast table, beside the eggs he cooked perfectly. She didn’t accuse or beg. She only asked for freedom. He didn’t sign. He chuckled. A soft, dismissive sound. “A cat raised indoors doesn’t know how to survive on the street, Elena. You’ll come back." But she didn’t. She disappeared, like smoke—except she didn’t vanish, not really. She lived. She wore colour again. Laughed at bad jokes. Let strange men hand her coffee and ask for her number. Lucien? He watched. He watched her become someone without him. And it drove him mad. The night he cornered her outside the gallery, rain in his hair and desperation in his eyes, he looked like a man undone. "Elena," he breathed, "please. Look at me. Just once." She did. Calm as ever, and her love already gone.