Smeraldo Flowers

She has the perfect life. The perfect marriage. The perfect lie. On the night of her wedding anniversary, Ariana Cole receives no flowers, no kiss, no warmth. Just a cold dinner and a silence that finally breaks her. Then came Luca, the man who once made her feel like fire and vanished without a goodbye. When fate throws him back into her life, so does everything she thought she buried: her desire, betrayal, and the aching truth that her perfect marriage is a beautiful lie. Torn between a husband who’s suddenly desperate to win her back, and an ex who never truly left her, Ariana slips into a dangerous double life. Then come the anonymous messages, the buried secrets, the undeniable chemistry and the truth that her past was stolen… not forgotten. As passion reignites and manipulation turns deadly, Ariana must confront a devastating revelation: someone close to her stole her chance at happiness. And they’re not done yet. With her reputation shattered, a scandal threatening to destroy her career, and the man she truly loves falsely accused, Ariana has one choice: surrender to control or fight her way to freedom, truth, and love. This time, she’s not breaking. This time, she chooses herself …and love follows.

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.