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  • Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: Watch Me Shine novel by Juline Walden

    Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: Watch Me Shine novel by Juline Walden

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    I spent a whole year trying to melt my billionaire husband’s icy heart, carefully planning our grand wedding reception.

    Then a trending news alert popped up: Augustine was spotted at the airport, intimately holding his childhood sweetheart, Bianca.

    When I frantically called him, he declined it and sent a cold text.

    “Don’t call.”

    At the family estate, he didn’t even acknowledge my existence. Instead, he announced that our wedding reception was canceled.

    “Bianca and I discussed it,” he stated flatly, as if she were the real wife.

    His aristocratic family just sneered at me. His aunt called me a classless gold digger, and his grandmother demanded I endure the humiliation to protect their public image.

    They even moved Bianca into our penthouse, redecorating the suite for her while I was barred from his office.

    For a year, I gave up my career and dreams, desperately molding myself into the perfect Mrs. Rhodes.

    I thought my devotion would eventually earn his respect, but to them, I was just a pathetic, temporary replacement keeping the seat warm.

    When I saw he had completely blocked me on social media, erasing me with a single click, my heart finally died.

    I didn’t cry or beg for his affection anymore.

    I packed my bags, walked out of that suffocating gilded cage, and sent him a simple text.

    “Let’s get a divorce.”

    I am done playing the tragic clown. This time, I’m taking my life back.

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    Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: Watch Me Shine Chapter 1

    “Mr. Rhodes’s family crest will be hand-carved by a Michelin three-star chef.”
    The wedding planner, Mr. Price, gestured toward an illustration of an elaborate ice sculpture. His voice was slick with a practiced reverence that made Eve’s stomach tighten.
    She sat alone at a long polished table in the Vera Wang VIP suite. Spread before her were blueprints for a life she was supposed to want: samples of “ocean heart” themed china, photos of white roses flown in from France, fabric swatches for tablecloths.
    Across from her, an empty velvet chair seemed to mock her. It was where Augustine was supposed to be.
    “It looks perfect,” Eve said, forcing a smile that felt brittle on her lips. “Let’s go with that plan.”
    Mr. Price glanced at the Patek Philippe on his wrist. “Will Mr. Rhodes be joining us today? There are a few seating arrangements for the guests that require his personal confirmation.”
    Eve’s fingers tightened around her porcelain coffee cup. The heat did nothing to warm them. “He has an international conference call. He couldn’t get away.”
    The lie was smooth, practiced.
    “I can decide on the seating,” she added, her voice quiet but firm.
    A flicker of understanding—and something like pity—crossed Mr. Price’s face before it was masked by a professional smile. “Of course. You are the lady of the house.”
    He said the words, but his hand subtly pushed a guest list marked “Top Priority” to the center of the table. The message was clear. Some decisions were above her pay grade.
    Eve’s gaze swept over the names. Vanderbilt. Rockefeller. The weight of centuries of old money pressed down on her. The air in the room felt thin.
    She took a slow breath and began. “The Astors will be at table three, with the Carnegies. They summer together.”
    She moved through the list, her memory sharp, her arrangements flawless. Mr. Price’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.
    Two hours later, every detail was finalized. Augustine’s phone had gone unanswered the entire time.
    Then, a text.
    I’m busy. You decide.
    The words were cold, efficient. A tiny, sharp pain pierced through the numbness in her chest.
    She typed out a reply: Okay. Rest early.
    Her thumb hovered over the send button. The sentence looked pathetic. Needy.
    She deleted it.
    OK.
    She hit send.
    Outside, the cool New York evening air was a welcome shock to her skin. She dismissed the driver, needing to walk, to feel the hard pavement under her feet.
    Fifth Avenue’s glittering windows showcased jewels and gowns, each one a silent testament to a fantasy she was failing to live.
    She ducked into a small café, the warmth a temporary comfort. Her phone buzzed. It was her best friend, Chloe Hayes.
    You okay, honey? Don’t wear yourself out.
    Eve typed back a smiling emoji. I’m fine. Everything’s going smoothly.
    She opened her news app, scrolling to the finance section. It was one of the few ways she tried to understand Augustine’s world.
    A push notification flashed across the top of her screen. An entertainment headline.
    Billionaire Augustine Rhodes, Wedding Imminent, Spotted with Mystery Blonde at Airport!
    Her breath caught. It had to be a mistake. Clickbait.
    She tapped the link.
    The air left her lungs. Her blood turned to ice.
    The photo was brutally clear. Augustine, in the VIP airport terminal, wearing the dark grey overcoat she had picked out for him that morning. But he wasn’t wearing the tie she’d matched with it.
    He was angled slightly, shielding a woman from the imagined press. His hand rested on the small of her back, a gesture of casual, confident possession.
    The woman, a cascade of brilliant blonde hair, wore sunglasses but her smile was radiant. She was pressed against his side, a perfect fit.
    Eve knew her instantly. Bianca Cherry.
    Augustine’s childhood sweetheart. The one the Rhodes family had always wanted for him. The one who had left for Paris three years ago.
    The caption beneath the photo read: A source reveals Ms. Cherry’s return may be to reclaim what was rightfully hers.
    The warm café air grew thin, suffocating. A wave of dizziness washed over her. The phone slipped from her grasp, clattering onto the small table.
    Heads turned. Eve didn’t notice. Her world had shrunk to that single, damning photograph and the words: reclaim what was rightfully hers.
    She scrambled to her feet, grabbing her purse and phone, and stumbled out of the café, desperate to escape the unseen eyes, the silent judgment.
    She dialed Augustine’s number.
    This time, it didn’t just ring.
    It was declined.
    A second later, a text from him appeared.
    Don’t call.
    Eve stood frozen on the bustling sidewalk, the city’s vibrant life a blur of noise and light. She was a clown in a tragedy only she was performing in.
    She remembered their wedding day, a year ago. The contract. “Our marriage is a business arrangement,” he had told her, his blue eyes as cold as a winter sky. “Don’t have any expectations of me.”
    She had been so naive, thinking she could melt the ice.
    Now she understood. The ice wasn’t meant to be melted. His spring just belonged to someone else.
    Her phone rang again. The caller ID read: Mrs. Davis. The housekeeper.
    Her hand trembled as she answered.
    “Ma’am?” Mrs. Davis’s voice was hesitant. “Will you be returning for dinner? Mr. Rhodes… he will not be coming home tonight either.”

    Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: Watch Me Shine Chapter 2

    The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the silent air. Eve sat on the sprawling white sofa, a cashmere throw clutched around her shoulders. The coffee on the table in front of her was cold. She hadn’t slept.
    The penthouse was so quiet she could hear the ticking of the minimalist clock on the wall. The door to the master bedroom, his bedroom, remained closed. An unbreached fortress.
    She picked up her phone. The screen glowed with yesterday’s news. She mechanically refreshed the page.
    More photos had appeared. A video.
    Augustine and Bianca at a Michelin-starred restaurant. Bianca, laughing, reached across the table to adjust his tie. He didn’t pull away.
    The comments section was a viper’s nest.
    “OMG, they look so perfect together!”
    “Who is this Eve Clarke person? A temporary replacement?”
    “Poor girl. Just another casualty of a dynastic marriage.”
    The word “replacement” made her stomach clench. She shut off the phone, the screen going dark like a closing eye.
    She stood up and walked into the kitchen. Her body moved on autopilot, pulling out the ingredients for Augustine’s breakfast. Freshly squeezed orange juice. The specific brand of Irish oatmeal he preferred. It was a pathetic, ingrained habit, a ritual for a god who never showed up.
    Mrs. Davis entered the kitchen, her kind face etched with worry. “Ma’am, you…”
    “I’m fine, Mrs. Davis,” Eve said, her voice a hollow echo of itself. “Just a bad night’s sleep.” She packed the oatmeal into a thermal container. “If Mr. Rhodes comes back, please make sure he eats this.”
    The housekeeper’s eyes were filled with a deep, sorrowful pity. “Of course, ma’am.”
    Eve went to the walk-in closet to get dressed. Her clothes occupied one side, his the other. A stark, physical representation of their lives. Separate. Untouching.
    She decided to go to his office. It was something she had never done before, showing up unannounced. A violation of their unspoken rules.
    At the gleaming lobby of Rhodes Tower, the receptionist stopped her with a polite, impenetrable smile. “I’m sorry, Ms. Clarke. Without an appointment, I can’t let you up. Mr. Rhodes is in a very important meeting.”
    “I’m his wife,” Eve said, the words tasting like ash in her mouth.
    The receptionist’s smile didn’t waver. “We’re aware, but company policy is absolute.”
    It was the ultimate humiliation. His wife. Barred from entry like a common stranger.
    Just as she was about to turn away, defeated, Augustine’s executive assistant appeared. He was impeccably dressed, his expression neutral.
    “Ms. Clarke,” he said smoothly. “Mr. Rhodes asked me to convey a message. He said that all wedding matters are at your discretion. He has complete faith in your taste.”
    The words were a perfectly constructed wall, blocking any possibility of a real conversation. He was managing her. Handling her.
    Eve walked out of the building, the city’s noise a dull roar in her ears. She felt like a joke. The whole world knew her husband was with another woman, and she, the wife, couldn’t even get past his front desk.
    She sat in her car for a long time, the engine off. Her phone vibrated.
    The screen read: Eleanor Rhodes.
    Augustine’s grandmother. The matriarch.
    Eve took a deep, steadying breath and answered. “Grandmother.”
    Eleanor’s voice was warm, like aged whiskey. “Eve, my dear. I saw the news. Don’t you pay it any mind. Augustine has his moods, and men will be men. Your wedding is what’s important.”
    The words were meant to be soothing, but they felt like ice water. Eleanor wasn’t concerned about Eve’s pain. She was concerned about the wedding. The family’s image.
    “This weekend, I want you to come to the estate,” Eleanor continued, her tone shifting from gentle to commanding. “We’ll have a family meeting. Settle these details once and for all.”
    It wasn’t a request.
    “Yes, Grandmother,” Eve murmured.
    Hanging up, a profound sense of powerlessness washed over her. In this marriage, everyone cared about the title “Mrs. Rhodes.” No one cared about Eve.
    On the drive home, she passed a newsstand. The front page of a tabloid featured a large photo of Augustine and Bianca, side-by-side. The headline screamed: OLD FLAME RETURNS, WHERE IS THE NEW WIFE?
    Eve slammed on the brakes, pulling the car over to the curb. She rested her forehead against the steering wheel, her shoulders shaking with silent, wracking sobs.
    After a few minutes, her phone rang again.
    The name on the screen made her heart leap with a stupid, desperate hope.
    Augustine.
    She snatched it up. “Hello?”
    His voice was low and devoid of any emotion. “I heard you came to the office today.”
    Her lips parted. She wanted to scream, to ask about the photos, about Bianca, about where he was last night.
    But all that came out was a weak “I… I just wanted to talk to you.”
    “There’s nothing to talk about,” he cut in, his voice sharp with impatience. “Don’t do that again. It’s disruptive. I won’t be home tonight. Make your own arrangements.”
    The line went dead.
    Eve held the silent phone to her ear, staring blankly through the windshield. The last, flickering ember of hope had been extinguished.

    Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: Watch Me Shine Chapter 3

    The Rhodes family estate on Long Island was a monument of old stone and older money. When the butler led Eve into the grand drawing room, Augustine was already there, seated in a wingback chair, coolly flipping through a financial journal.
    He didn’t look up. He didn’t acknowledge her existence.
    The familiar sting of his indifference was dulled by a growing numbness. Eve sat on a sofa as far away from him as possible, her posture rigid.
    A moment later, Augustine’s aunt, Caroline Rhodes, descended the grand staircase. She was a severe woman in a Chanel suit, her face a mask of perpetual disapproval. Her eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, raked over Eve from head to toe, lingering on the simple, off-the-rack dress Eve wore. A faint, contemptuous smile touched her lips.
    Finally, Eleanor Rhodes entered, leaning lightly on a silver-handled cane. She took her seat at the head of the room, and an immediate, heavy silence fell.
    “I’ve had the public relations team handle the news,” Eleanor began, her gaze sweeping over Augustine and Eve. “Augustine, be more discreet in the future. The Rhodes family cannot afford any negative press before this wedding is finalized.”
    Her words were a reprimand for Augustine, but Eve heard the true emphasis: before the wedding is finalized. The act itself didn’t matter, only the timing.
    Augustine grunted in assent, his eyes still fixed on his journal.
    Caroline let out a sharp, derisive laugh. “You’re too soft, Grandmother. Some people are simply not fit to carry the Rhodes name. If she can’t even keep her own husband in line, what good is she?”
    Eve’s body went rigid. Her nails dug into the soft skin of her palms. She knew Caroline was talking about her.
    She said nothing, just lowered her gaze to her lap, where her hands were clenched into tight, white-knuckled fists.
    Her silence seemed to infuriate Caroline further. “Can’t even speak for herself. Utterly lacking in breeding.”
    “That’s enough,” Augustine said, finally lowering his journal. His brow was furrowed, not in defense of Eve, but in annoyance at the disruption.
    He turned his cold, blue eyes on Eve. His voice was flat, like a CEO announcing a corporate restructuring.
    “Bianca and I have discussed it. To prevent further media speculation, we’ve decided that the wedding reception… will be postponed indefinitely.”
    Indefinitely. A polite word for canceled.
    The reception she had spent months planning, the one that was supposed to celebrate their union, was being erased by a single sentence. A decision he had made with her.
    Eve’s mind went blank. She stared at him, her voice a disbelieving whisper. “You discussed it with who?”
    “Bianca,” he replied, his expression unreadable. “She is one of the parties involved in the media narrative. It was logical to get her input.”
    Caroline let out a triumphant little scoff. “Did you hear that? Auggie discusses his decisions with Bianca. They are a team. What are you?”
    The blood rushed to Eve’s head, then drained away, leaving her hands and feet icy cold. Her wedding. Her husband. Discussing its cancellation with another woman. The humiliation was a physical blow.
    She stood up, her legs trembling slightly. She looked directly at Augustine. “So, in your mind, she is your family, isn’t she?”
    A flicker of something—annoyance, perhaps—crossed his face. He looked away, refusing to answer.
    His silence was the most brutal confirmation of all.
    Eleanor tapped her cane on the thick Persian rug. “Enough. The matter is settled. A postponement is wise. It will prevent further complications.”
    Eve looked around the opulent room. The cold husband, the vicious aunt, the calculating grandmother. She was an intruder in their world, a laughable, temporary fixture.
    She didn’t say another word. She turned, straightened her spine, and walked out of the suffocating room.
    Behind her, she heard Caroline’s parting shot, “No manners at all.”
    The winter sun outside felt as cold as the drawing room. She got into her car, started the engine, and pressed the accelerator, fleeing the gilded cage.
    Only when she was on the highway did she realize her vision was blurred by tears.
    She pulled over onto the shoulder, dropped her head to the steering wheel, and finally let the sobs come. Months of quiet desperation, of forced smiles and swallowed pain, erupted in a raw, ragged storm.
    When the tears subsided, she looked at the diamond ring on her left hand. It was a beautiful, brilliant lie. It mocked her.
    With a choked cry of frustration, she yanked it off her finger. Her hand flew up, ready to hurl it out the window. But it stopped, trembling, halfway.
    Defeated, she unclenched her fist and shoved the ring deep into the pocket of her coat.
    After the storm of tears came a vast, hollow emptiness. She wiped her face, her eyes strangely calm. She started the car again.
    But she wasn’t driving back to the penthouse.
    She was driving to the one place she hadn’t been in a year. Her grandmother’s house.
    As she made the turn, a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time washed over her.
    Relief.

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  • When The Alpha Chooses A Human novel by IlianaH

    When The Alpha Chooses A Human novel by IlianaH

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    Maya left her hometown with her grandmother, leaving behind her first love and the only life she’d ever known. Before long, she sensed that this new place hided a dark and unsettling secret-a pack of werewolves.

    Upon her arrival, she met Isla, a bubbly and welcoming neighbor, as well as Blake, Isla’s brother-a young man who was arrogant, unpredictable, and inexplicably magnetic to her.

    Her life took a dramatic turn when she was chosen by Blake, who turned out to be an Alpha.

    Their bond was instant but fragile. Despite her love for him, Maya questioned her place by his side-especially in the face of the pack’s dismissive attitude toward her, all because she was just an ordinary human.

    Would she be able to fight her way into the world of werewolves, or would she end up heartbroken?

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    When The Alpha Chooses A Human novel Chapter 1

    I was already mourning what I was about to lose. The endless sunsets, the hot, heavy nights, the sand just steps from our front door.

    All of it was fading before my eyes as I stood chewing the inside of my cheek, staring at the sign hammered into the lawn. One word, printed in bold red: SOLD.

    Florida was the only place I’d ever known, my only anchor.

    Since the day I was born, it had just been my grandma and me.

    My mother died in childbirth, and my father… I knew nothing about him. His name, his face, his very existence—they were just blank spaces in my story. We never talked about him.

    “Still staring at that sign, I see,” my grandma said, coming up beside me.

    In a few hours, this chapter of our lives would be over. We were leaving everything behind for Texas.

    She assured me it was for the best, that the change would do us good. But I had no desire to start over somewhere I didn’t know.

    I had my friends here. And I had Tommy.

    At eighteen, my life wasn’t perfect, but it was mine, and it fit. School was going well. I had a part-time job and a tight group of friends I could always count on.

    I knew she’d heard my protests, but they hadn’t changed a thing. The decision was final.

    “Maya, you’ll meet other people. You’ll make new friends. Maybe even find a new boyfriend. This is necessary, honey. Change is good.”

    Her words slid right off me. I didn’t want new faces, let alone a new boy.

    Tommy was my first love. Sure, he was three years older, but he had these clear blue eyes that could disarm me in a second and a kindness that meant more than anything.

    My grandma, though, had never approved. She always said something about him felt off, that her instincts told her to be wary. But to me, he was different.

    I knew I’d adapt eventually, that I’d meet other people, but that wasn’t what haunted me. What I feared most was severing the invisible thread that still connected me to my mother.

    “She’s here,” I whispered, more to myself than to my grandma.

    “Of course she is,” my grandma said softly, placing a hand over my heart. “Wherever you go, she’s always right here with you.”

    I knew she was right, but this house, these walls, the sound of the waves crashing on the shore—it all made me feel like she was still close.

    “How about we go make some hot cocoa? We could watch the sun disappear together,” she offered.

    “I’ll grab a blanket,” I answered immediately.

    It was our ritual, our special moment: watching the sunset over the ocean. For me, the beach was more than just a view. It was a refuge.

    I kicked off my shoes and spread the blanket over the still-warm sand before sitting down. The sky was streaked with shades of pink and orange, and the steady rhythm of the waves filled my ears.

    A sigh escaped my lips. I knew I would never see this again. There were beaches in Texas, sure, but not this one. Not this light, not this familiar horizon.

    “It’s beautiful,” I murmured.

    “Maya?”

    I jumped. When I turned, I saw Tommy walking toward me. I shot to my feet. He shouldn’t have been here. We’d already said our goodbyes. His presence just made everything harder.

    My eyes instinctively flicked to my grandma. She didn’t like him, and she never tried to hide it.

    “I can’t let you leave like this,” he said, pulling me into his arms. “The thought of never seeing you again… it’s unbearable.”

    Tears pricked my eyes, and I fought to hold them back. I was going to miss him so much. These last few months, we’d been nearly inseparable.

    “You shouldn’t be here,” I whispered against his chest. “This just makes it harder.”

    “I know, I’m sorry,” he replied, his arms tightening around me. “But I love you, Maya. I love you more than anything.”

    A discreet cough cut through the moment. My grandma was coming back.

    “We’ll see each other again, I promise,” he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to my lips before turning and walking away, his figure quickly swallowed by the growing darkness.

    I looked down at my finger. The ring he’d given me shimmered faintly in the twilight. A promise he’d made six months into our relationship. A promise we might not have time to keep.

    A sob shook my entire body.

    “Maya?” my grandma called out.

    “I’m fine,” I answered, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand.

    Thinking about his absence was like a physical ache in my chest, but I had no choice. The move was tomorrow.

    “I need to finish packing.”

    Goodbye, Florida. Hello, Texas.

    …

    We could have taken a direct flight, but no. My grandma wanted to drive, to “make an adventure out of it,” she’d said.

    Twenty hours later, I was utterly exhausted. Between the gas stops and the fast-food meals we’d scarfed down, my legs and back were screaming. All I wanted was a bed.

    “See? Texas isn’t so bad,” she remarked with a smile. “We’re about half an hour out. Go get yourself a coffee.”

    I looked around. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, but it wasn’t home. And I doubted it ever would be.

    As soon as I stepped inside the gas station, I made a beeline for the coffee machine. I couldn’t function without caffeine.

    As I was preparing two steaming cups, the bell over the door chimed. An instantaneous shiver ran down my spine.

    A strange sensation washed over me, a dizzying mix of alarm and excitement. My heart hammered against my ribs, and my palms grew damp.

    I froze. After taking a deep breath, I whirled around.

    No one.

    I remained frozen, my breath caught in my throat. But the feeling lingered: a powerful sense that someone was there.

    Maybe the exhaustion was just playing tricks on me. Sighing, I snapped the lids onto the cups and headed for the register.

    “Large or regular?” the cashier asked with a bright smile.

    I forced a smile in return. “Regular. And… this, too.”

    I grabbed a bag of candy and tore it open immediately, unable to resist.

    “Sorry. I have a serious sugar craving,” I said with an awkward little laugh, handing over the cash.

    “No worries. I’m Isla, by the way.”

    “Maya,” I replied, taking my change.

    “You new here?”

    I bit my lip. “Is it that obvious?”

    She nodded, a look of amusement on her face. “You have the look of a city girl.”

    “Florida,” I said simply.

    Just then, the sensation returned, ten times stronger. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. A wave of heat washed over me, far too intense for the air-conditioned store. A dull restlessness thrummed under my skin. The feeling of being watched became oppressive, suffocating. Maybe I was coming down with something.

    “You’ll see, you’ll like it here,” Isla said with a wink. “You’ll fit right in.”

    I just shrugged. Maybe she was right.

    But deep down, I already knew something was wrong. I’d felt that strangeness from the moment I walked through the door.

    I bit into a piece of candy and shook my head, trying to clear it. “I don’t know how you eat that stuff and don’t get cavities,” she said, laughing.

    I smiled, but inside, a quiet dread had taken root and refused to let go.

    When The Alpha Chooses A Human novel Chapter 2

    I snapped the car door shut, a smile tugging at my lips.

    My grandmother knew my weakness for sugar all too well; it was a running joke between us.

    As I handed her the coffee cup, I gave her a look that was half conspiracy, half irony. She laughed, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

    “I love candy,” I said, popping another Twizzler into my mouth.

    “You won’t be so glad when your teeth start falling out,” she replied, pressing the accelerator. “We’ll see about that in a month.”

    I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to upset her. Not now. She went on, as if she had guessed what I was thinking.

    “I know this isn’t easy for you. You weren’t thrilled about moving, but I’m convinced you’ll end up loving this place. All I want is for you to try.”

    I took a slow breath. Yes, I was going to try. I was going to pretend I believed her, to give her that chance. But that didn’t mean it would be easy. Changing your life, changing your habits—it was like jumping into an abyss.

    “I’ll try,” I said finally. “But promise me you won’t push me.”

    As the car slowed, I leaned forward to look out the window. The landscape had dissolved into a stretch of dense greenery. Trees as far as the eye could see. Nothing else.

    “Are we moving into a forest?” I said flatly.

    My grandmother laughed softly and placed a reassuring hand on my knee. “No, it’s just the road,” she said. “Wait for it.”

    Sure enough, a few minutes later, buildings began to appear, scattered along a narrow street.

    I thought of the guys we’d seen at the gas station on the way here. Four of them, staring at our car like they owned the road. The memory of their intense stares lingered, leaving a vague unease in its wake.

    “So, tell me,” my grandmother said, keeping her eyes on the road. “How do you really feel, deep down, about all of this?”

    I bit my lip. I knew she was hoping for a sincere answer.

    The truth was, I hated the idea of starting over from scratch, but I also wanted to show her I was making an effort. “I think this is what’s best for us,” I said finally. “So I’ll try to get used to it.”

    The neighborhood unfolding before us did have a quiet charm. I tried to focus on that. Texas had its advantages, that much was undeniable. The people seemed open, and I wanted to believe we could fit in. But the thought of starting over from nothing was still a crushing weight.

    “Great, we live in the middle of nowhere,” I muttered. Not having a car would make it even worse. How was I supposed to get around? Were there even any buses that came through this remote part of town?

    The car stopped in front of a large, old house. I ran a hand over my face and finally looked up at it. In spite of myself, a smile stretched my lips. The facade had charm—a little worn, sure—but one window opened onto a small balcony. Just like my room in Florida.

    My eyes were glued to it.

    From the outside, the house looked great, even if it seemed like it had been abandoned for years. With a little care and work, it could be beautiful again. Maybe living here wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

    “It needs some repairs,” my grandmother admitted, “but I already fell in love with it. I couldn’t resist.”

    Inside, my excitement dropped a notch. The worn carpets, the dated furniture, the musty smell—the whole place felt like it was stuck in a bygone era.

    “Workers will come in a few days,” she explained quickly, reading my grimace. “And look at the garden. With a little attention, it’ll be gorgeous. We can decorate it however we want, make this place a real home.”

    I let her talk. She had every right to be happy, and who was I to take that away from her? My mood could wait. What mattered was seeing her smile.

    “Quiet neighborhood, huh?” I added after a pause. “Hey, how far is the nearest beach?”

    She laughed. “Already feeling nostalgic?”

    “Always,” I answered with a shrug. “But I can wait. Do you want me to start unloading the car?”

    She nodded. My job was to get the essentials out; the rest would follow. As for where she was getting the money for all of this, I didn’t dare ask.

    “Yes, and I’m going to check if the heat works,” she said.

    The heat? That didn’t sound good.

    I rolled my eyes and headed back outside. It couldn’t get any worse, right? Just as I was leaning into the car, a voice behind me made me jump.

    “Need a hand?”

    I straightened up so fast my head spun. My heart hammered against my ribs.

    “Isla?”

    She strolled over, the picture of nonchalance. “So you’re the one moving in here? This is your house?”

    A knot formed in my stomach. Her tone was light, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Closing the car door with a kick, I stared at her in silence. This girl had a strange energy I couldn’t quite place.

    “Is there a problem?” I demanded abruptly.

    “Not at all,” she answered with a smile. “The house has been empty for a long time, that’s all. I live a little farther down, but I mostly spend my time at my brother’s.”

    “Why didn’t anyone buy it before?”

    She shrugged. “No idea. Want me to help you?”

    Without waiting for my answer, she grabbed a box from the trunk and headed up the driveway.

    I wasn’t sure I wanted to be her friend. Something about her put me on guard.

    “Maya, can you bring me—” My grandmother stepped out, stopping short. “Oh, who’s this?” She took the box from Isla’s hands.

    “Isla. She lives down the street,” I explained. “She says the house has been empty for a long time. Are you sure this was a good idea?” I didn’t want her to waste her money on a lost cause.

    “Maya,” my grandmother said firmly.

    That was enough to make me shut up. Once she made a decision, there was no point in arguing.

    “Go finish unloading,” she said, her tone softening. “I’m making us hot chocolate.”

    “She’s sweet,” Isla whispered with a smile before picking up another box.

    Yes, my grandmother was sweet, but that was deceptive. She could be immovable when she needed to be.

    “Thanks, I’ve got it,” I said, taking the box from her. I couldn’t figure this girl out. Was she genuinely nice, or was she after something?

    “It doesn’t bother me,” she said with a shrug. “Anyway, I’d rather be here. My brother has friends over and I don’t feel like hanging out with them.”

    “How old is your brother?” I asked, intrigued.

    “Twenty-four, but he acts like he’s fifty,” she answered with a smile. “And sometimes he’s insufferable.”

    “Insufferable how?”

    “You’ll see when you meet him. What about you, do you have any brothers or sisters?”

    “No, only child,” I replied.

    I walked up the driveway, a box in my arms. But my foot caught on a loose stone and I lost my balance. The box tumbled from my grasp, and I fell hard, my knees scraping against the gravel.

    “Shit!” I groaned, rolling up my jeans to dig a sharp little stone out of my skin.

    “Are you okay?” Isla asked, leaning toward me.

    When The Alpha Chooses A Human novel Chapter 3

    Voices pulled me from my thoughts, a sudden reminder that I wasn’t alone.

    My hands were scraped raw and smeared with drying blood, my knee throbbing from the fall, but it wasn’t the end of the world. The embarrassment burned hot in my cheeks, but night had fallen. At least no one had been around to watch me trip. I wiped my bloody fingers on my jeans, a useless gesture against the shame.

    “Need a hand, short stuff?” a raspy voice murmured through the cold air.

    Short stuff? The words hit like a flick to the ear, and I winced.

    “Blake,” Isla’s voice cut in sharply.

    When I looked up, a gasp escaped me. Who was this man? Where had he come from? And why on earth wasn’t he wearing a shirt? Was this some absurd joke, or was my exhausted brain finally playing tricks on me?

    I couldn’t tear my eyes away, mesmerized. He met my stare for a long moment before his gaze slid away, and a wave of embarrassment washed over me.

    Four guys stood in front of the house, all of them shirtless in the freezing night, looking like they’d stepped out of another world.

    The air bit at my exposed skin, and their collective stillness gave the scene a strange, predatory intensity. For a second, I felt so disoriented it was as if I’d hit my head getting out of the car. Reality wavered.

    I pushed myself to my feet, my hands still sticky, and began gathering the belongings that had spilled across the driveway. My clothes and possessions were scattered in a messy heap. “Blake, please, just go,” Isla urged.

    He remained planted where he was, his eyes fixed on me. The discomfort simmering inside me swelled, then sharpened into alarm when I saw what he was holding.

    My blanket.

    My mother’s.

    It was old, frayed, and clumsily repaired by hand—the kind of treasure you cling to because it holds the last traces of someone you loved.

    I treated it like a fragile relic. No one was ever allowed to treat it like a rag. And yet, this boy held it at arm’s length, dangling it like a worthless scrap of cloth.

    “Blake,” Isla hissed.

    I couldn’t even find the strength to ask for it back. The words were lodged in my throat.

    Just then, my grandmother emerged from the house, her posture rigid, her voice radiating authority.

    “Maya, what’s going on here?” she asked, positioning herself beside me. Her gaze landed instantly on the blanket. “Young man, I believe what you’re holding doesn’t belong to you. Give it back.”

    The steel in her voice was a balm to my frayed nerves. It was like an anchor; I felt my racing heart begin to settle.

    But I was still too dazed to move with any confidence. I reached out, snatched the blanket from his grasp, and clutched it to my chest, burying my face in the worn fabric. I didn’t care if they thought I was hugging a scrap of cloth. It was the only piece of my mother I had left.

    “Come inside,” my grandmother said, not waiting for an answer. “The rest can wait until tomorrow.” She then turned to Isla. “Isla, you’re welcome to join us. Come on in.”

    The invitation was an order wrapped in politeness. Isla didn’t need to be told twice.

    “Sit down, girls. I’m going to make hot chocolate,” my grandmother announced, her tone almost cheerful.

    I nodded, my head still swimming with blurry images. Isla mentioned she’d left her phone in the car, an excuse to either ensure privacy or project a bit of independence.

    I opened the glove box, grabbed my own phone, and double-checked that the car was locked. Then, with a knot of unease tightening in my stomach, I walked back toward the house with the last of the boxes under my arm.

    As I turned, a hand shot out and clamped around my wrist, the force anything but innocent. He yanked me back toward him, and I froze, every muscle locking in place.

    “Short stuff,” he growled, his voice a low, brutal thing right beside my ear.

    His fingers dug into my wrist, and the pressure hurt. I tried to draw a breath, but the air felt thin, stolen. I didn’t dare struggle. My body went rigid, every fiber screaming for me to run, but a strange confusion crept through the fear. I was terrified, yes, but there was also a bizarre, unwelcome thrill at being noticed, at being held.

    “Please let me go,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

    He didn’t move. Instead, he buried his face in the curve of my neck and took a long, deep inhale, as if searching for a specific scent.

    “Fuck, baby, you’re pure ocean,” he breathed, his voice thick, almost drunk.

    A violent tremor shot through me. Who sniffed someone like that? Who pressed their face against the neck of a girl they just met in a driveway?

    I felt cold and sick, yet some stupid, ashamed part of me felt a flicker of guilty curiosity at the warmth of his breath, the solid press of his head against my skin. It was utterly repellent and, somehow, attractive.

    Then, as quickly as he’d appeared, he let go. He simply vanished back into the night without another word, without a sound.

    The sudden emptiness he left behind cranked my anxiety to a new high. He could walk away, but he was still out there. He had gotten close, breathed me in, and retreated, leaving me feeling invaded.

    I stumbled inside, took the mug my grandmother handed me, and sank onto the couch. The hot chocolate burned my fingers, but I took a sip anyway. The warmth was more comforting than the taste.

    My thoughts kept circling back to him: the rough gentleness of his grip, his face in my neck, and that impossible scent of salt and sea he claimed to have found on me.

    “Maya, sweetheart, are you there?” my grandmother called, her soft laugh chasing away the ghosts in the room. “Isla was just telling me she’s going to the same school you’re enrolled in.”

    I had almost forgotten about school. The information pulled me back to a more ordinary reality—classes to attend, people to meet, a life to rebuild. I tried to cling to it.

    “Great, school,” I breathed, rolling my eyes. “Only six more months. After that, we’ll see.”

    Isla stood up to leave, a friendly smile on her face as she held out her hand. “Thanks for having me. I should get going. By the way, here’s my number, if you need anything.”

    She took my hand and gave it a light squeeze. I managed a small smile in return. Despite everything, she was the only person I knew here, and that alone was reassuring.

    When the door clicked shut behind her, I looked at my grandmother, waiting for the verdict.

    “She seems nice,” she said with a kind smile. “Maybe your first friend here. Her brother, on the other hand, is a real piece of work.”

    I burst out laughing despite myself. Hearing my grandmother talk like that always surprised me; she wasn’t one for crude language. But her comment was wrapped in a warm, protective tone that did me a world of good.

    “But what a gorgeous asshole,” she added with an amused glint in her eye.

    I had to admit, there was something magnetic about him. Still, I shook my head.

    “I think he’s already noticed you,” my grandmother said, winking as she took my empty mug. “He couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

    “Grandma,” I groaned, a blush creeping up my neck. She was only twenty when she had my mom; people often mistook her for my mother, and she certainly acted like it sometimes.

    “I’m just saying,” she said with a grin. “Try to get some sleep now.” She gestured to the couch. “It’s not perfect, but you’ll have a proper bed tomorrow.”

    “I love you, Grandma,” I murmured.

    “I love you too, sweetheart,” she replied, and her words fell over my trembling shoulders like the warmest blanket.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • My Heartless Ex-Husband Volunteers To Be My Baby Daddy by honey keyboard

    My Heartless Ex-Husband Volunteers To Be My Baby Daddy by honey keyboard
    👉 READ NOW

    For three years, Georgia devoted herself to being the perfect housewife, only for her husband to hand her divorce papers the moment his first love returned.

    She erased every trace of herself and vanished from his life completely. By the time she reappeared, powerful men were competing for her attention, and her countless hidden identities had left everyone stunned.

    Her usually composed ex finally lost control after noticing her baby bump.

    “Whose child is it?” he demanded.

    Georgia scoffed. “Some jerk’s.”

    Desperate to keep her close, he replied, “Then let me volunteer to be the baby’s daddy.”

    👉 READ NOW

    My Heartless Ex-Husband Volunteers To Be My Baby Daddy Chapter 1 Love Only Makes Fools Out Of People

    “Do you truly want to end our marriage?” Georgia Campbell stared at the divorce agreement lying before her. Every trace of happiness disappeared as the truth sank in and turned her blood cold.

    “I do. Isabel’s back,” Cayden Marshall, her husband, said without warmth.

    Today was their third wedding anniversary. Georgia had visited the market, chosen fresh ingredients, and spent hours preparing a special dinner. In return, Cayden had placed a divorce agreement in front of her.

    What a surprise, she thought bitterly.

    “If any part of the settlement troubles you, let me know,” Cayden added. He regarded the quiet, obedient woman before him with the same distant calm he used during business negotiations.

    Georgia dropped her gaze and read through the document as quickly as she could. Cayden had offered her generous compensation, including a valuable shop facing a busy street, a villa downtown, and fifty million dollars in cash. The entire settlement was worth no less than a billion dollars. She could spend the rest of her life in comfort without ever worrying about money.

    One billion dollars would repay her for enduring a marriage of three years without love or sex. Anyone looking at the arrangement would say she had received more than enough.

    Georgia knew the sensible choice was to accept the offer without objecting. But she had not married Cayden for his money in the first place.

    Silence dragged on until Cayden placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it. He inhaled slowly before looking at her through narrowed eyes. “Tell me if you want anything changed in the agreement.”

    Georgia raised her head and held his distant gaze. “Cayden, did you ever care about me at all during our three years together?”

    “Not once.”

    The answer came at once, firm and merciless, and crushed the final hope she had kept alive. Pain spread heavily through her chest.

    “Now I understand,” she murmured as her lashes lowered to conceal the hurt in her eyes.

    The weakness passed quickly, and her familiar gentle smile returned. “I cooked your favorite dishes. Could you stay and share one final dinner with me?”

    Cayden only frowned and offered no reply.

    Georgia swallowed her tears before carrying the dishes from the kitchen and arranging each plate in front of him.

    At that moment, Cayden’s phone began ringing.

    “Cayden, I’m in so much pain. Will you please come to the hospital and stay with me?” a woman asked softly through the phone.

    Georgia stood near enough to hear every word. Her hands closed into tight fists.

    “All right. Try to be good until I arrive,” Cayden replied. “I’ll be there shortly. Tell me what you’d like to eat, and I’ll bring it with me.”

    Georgia had never heard him speak to her with that kind of tenderness. The light faded from her face as she realized that love could make someone treat two people in completely different ways.

    When Cayden moved to leave, she hurried forward and caught the hem of his shirt. Her plea carried the same quiet obedience she had always shown him. “Cayden, will you stay until we finish dinner? Please, just this once.”

    “Georgia, don’t turn this into a scene.” Cayden removed her hand without care and walked away without looking at her again.

    Georgia pressed a hand against the pain in her chest. Her control finally broke, and warm tears streamed down her cheeks.

    Three years ago, Cayden had approached her and proposed marriage. She had loved him quietly for years, so accepting his proposal had required no thought at all.

    After marriage, they had treated each other with courtesy and kept their distance. She had given up her own life to become a housewife and devoted herself to caring for his every need. Cayden had never shared her bed as a true husband, yet even that empty marriage had once been enough to make her happy.

    Cayden’s grandfather had died two weeks earlier. Georgia had stood beside Cayden and handled the funeral arrangements. Once the funeral ended, Cayden began returning home less often. Tonight, he even asked for a divorce because Isabel Brooks, the woman he had always loved, had come back to the country.

    Georgia remained alone in the living room and let grief swallow the passing hours. By the time she forced herself to stand, stiffness had spread through her entire body. She gathered the untouched food and dumped it into the trash. The abandoned meal felt too much like her broken marriage.

    The shower didn’t help her relax. When she lay in bed, Cayden’s familiar scent surrounded her, making it impossible to sleep.

    A sudden chime from her phone broke the silence.

    For one hopeful second, Georgia believed Cayden had sent her a message. Instead, she opened a series of photographs delivered by an unfamiliar number.

    Every picture showed Cayden resting comfortably against Isabel’s shoulder with his eyes closed.

    A message appeared beneath the photographs. “Cayden is in love with me. Holding on to him will change nothing, so stop embarrassing yourself, Georgia.”

    Georgia tightened her grip on the phone and saw how close they were. The ache inside her chest soon grew too painful to bear.

    She stayed on the bed until morning arrived. Ian Dale, Cayden’s assistant, later entered the room carrying the divorce agreement.

    Sympathy crossed his face when he noticed how pale and exhausted Georgia looked. Still, he forced himself to deliver the message.

    “Ma’am, Mr. Marshall asked you to sign this. He’ll accept any terms you wish to add.”

    Georgia said nothing for a long while. Then she picked up the pen and placed her signature on the document. She did not want any compensation from Cayden and chose to leave with nothing. His wealth was never the reason she had married him, after all.

    Ian stared at her in surprise. “Ma’am, are you certain you don’t want any of the settlement?”

    She answered with a quiet hum.

    Georgia left soon afterward. A few changes of clothes were all she packed before leaving the home she had shared with Cayden for three years.

    All the happiness she had carried into the marriage was gone. Nothing remained for her to take when she walked away.

    Beyond the front door, a hollow feeling settled inside her. She no longer knew where she belonged. Even so, she understood that her life had to go on.

    Cayden had never loved her, and she refused to keep chasing someone who didn’t want her.

    Georgia pulled out her phone and called her closest friend, Jake Mitchell. “Jake, my marriage is over. I’m divorcing Cayden.”

    Jake arrived without keeping her waiting. His car stopped beside her and sent a cloud of dust across the road.

    “Love only makes fools out of people. Leaving that marriage might be the smartest decision you’ve ever made,” he remarked.

    “Enough with the nonsense. Start driving.” Georgia took out her phone, entered the surveillance network, and deleted every record that could reveal her whereabouts.

    She gave the house one final look, then faced forward and left without a moment of doubt.

    My Heartless Ex-Husband Volunteers To Be My Baby Daddy Chapter 2 Now This Is Interesting

    In the CEO’s office on the top floor of Marshall Group, Cayden looked at Ian and asked, “Did Georgia put her signature on the divorce agreement?”

    “Yes, but she refused the entire settlement,” Ian replied as he passed Cayden the signed agreement.

    Brief surprise showed on Cayden’s handsome face when he learned that Georgia had walked away without asking for anything.

    He hadn’t realized she possessed that much pride. In fact, he had expected her to make the divorce difficult. Instead, she had accepted it without making a fuss, which left him with an uneasy feeling he couldn’t explain.

    For three years, she had done nothing except manage their home. She had no career or friends to rely on. He couldn’t help wondering how she planned to support herself after leaving the marriage empty-handed.

    The concern made him frown. Once he recognized that he was worrying about her future, he immediately drove the thought from his mind.

    Their divorce would soon be final, and he reminded himself that her life would no longer concern him.

    He dropped the agreement into a desk drawer without care. Then he raised his head and asked, “Have you located Kendra Leigh?”

    “We still haven’t found her,” Ian responded. “She knows how to disappear completely, and none of the places she’s visited have given us a trail to follow.”

    “Offer a reward through the Dark Web,” Cayden instructed. “Anyone who gives us reliable information about her location will receive 100 million dollars.”

    Three years ago, Isabel had been poisoned by an extremely rare toxin. Cayden had visited every respected doctor in the country, but no one could treat her. She’d been staying overseas for treatment these years, but her condition had only deteriorated.

    He later heard that there was a legendary doctor named Kendra Leigh. Stories about her remarkable medical skills claimed that she could rescue patients whom everyone else had given up on.

    Finding Kendra seemed like Isabel’s last chance for a cure.

    “I’ll handle the bounty immediately,” Ian responded.

    Meanwhile, Jake drove Georgia to a private villa.

    “This will be your home from now on,” he muttered. “Have you decided what you’ll do next?”

    “Not yet,” Georgia answered.

    Jake set his phone down in front of her. “Someone has posted a reward of 100 million dollars for your location. Does that offer interest you?”

    Georgia barely glanced at the screen. “Not at all.”

    “Fine. Take some time to rest,” Jake replied lightly. “There’s still the Douglas family assignment you accepted earlier. They’ve contacted us several times. When do you think you’ll be ready to visit them?”

    “I’ll go on Saturday,” she answered briefly.

    “Understood. I’ll send them your decision.”

    Georgia arranged the few belongings she had brought before shopping for everything she needed. She also replaced her phone number and cut the final thread connecting her to her former life.

    Saturday arrived sooner than expected.

    Jake drove Georgia to the Douglas residence, where she treated Laura Douglas, an elderly member of the family.

    As they departed, their car passed a black Bentley. Georgia looked through the window at the passing vehicle and briefly saw a man with sharply defined features sitting inside.

    Cayden? She couldn’t imagine what had brought him here.

    Thirty minutes ago, Cayden had received word that Kendra planned to treat Laura at the Douglas residence. He had rushed over with Ian.

    Kendra left no trail and avoided appearing before strangers. Since there was no other way to approach her, Cayden decided to wait at the residence himself.

    By the time he arrived, the Douglas family informed him that the doctor had already gone. The failed meeting darkened his face.

    He remembered the car that had just pulled away from the property. He spun around, climbed behind the wheel, and pressed hard on the accelerator to chase it.

    Through the rearview mirror, Jake spotted the black Bentley staying close behind them. “Someone is following us. Is that the husband you’re divorcing?”

    Georgia checked behind them and recognized Cayden’s car. Her heartless husband was the one pursuing them.

    Her face remained calm as she gave Jake a short command. “Lose him.”

    Jake slammed his foot onto the accelerator, and the car surged forward with enough force to press them into their seats as it tore down the road.

    Cayden had no intention of losing them. His Bentley stayed close behind their car while he pursued them with relentless focus.

    Both vehicles sped along the road as each driver fought for the lead.

    Several attempts to pull ahead ended in failure, and frustration began wearing down Jake’s patience. “Damn it, I never thought he’d be this good behind the wheel. He clearly won’t give up until he forces us to stop!”

    Georgia’s eyes opened at once. “Move over. I’m taking the wheel.”

    After exchanging seats with Jake, she fixed her attention on the road ahead. She pushed the accelerator to its limit and aimed the car toward Devil’s Bend 303, the most famous curve in the city.

    Behind them, Cayden’s black Bentley continued gaining ground and steadily reduced the space between the two cars.

    Georgia brought the car to a sudden stop when they arrived at the base of the mountain. She waited until Cayden almost reached them before hitting the accelerator again.

    Every turn came with a quick sequence of movements. She braked, worked the clutch, changed gears, guided the car through the curve, and accelerated out of it without breaking her rhythm.

    Only a few curves later, Cayden’s Bentley had fallen far into the distance.

    Georgia rolled down the window and extended one hand outside. Then she raised her middle finger toward the car chasing them.

    The rude gesture made her confidence impossible to ignore.

    Cayden’s expression sharpened at the sight. The hand outside the window looked slender and smooth enough to belong to a woman. And something about it seemed strangely familiar to him.

    When Cayden finally crossed the finish line, the other vehicle had already vanished.

    Ian held the grab handle with both hands while his heart hammered against his chest. Never before had he watched Cayden lose a race to a woman. He expected the defeat to send Cayden into a terrible temper, but an unsettling smile appeared on his face instead.

    “Now this is interesting,” Cayden said.

    Ian couldn’t agree with him. The race had left him feeling as though he had narrowly escaped death.

    “I don’t care what it takes—find that woman and bring me every piece of information you can uncover about her,” Cayden demanded.

    His reason for pursuing Kendra remained unchanged. She was the only doctor who might be able to save Isabel.

    My Heartless Ex-Husband Volunteers To Be My Baby Daddy Chapter 3 She Had Cut Him Off

    Once they arrived at the villa, Jake showed Georgia the payment notice on his phone. The Douglas family had already transferred three million dollars for the treatment.

    “I’ll send the full amount to your account,” he said.

    Three million dollars wasn’t a fortune, but it at least made their trip worthwhile.

    He continued, “Are you still turning down that 100 million dollars? People with too much money don’t come along every day, especially ones willing to spend it so carelessly. You paid 40 million dollars for this villa alone.”

    Over the years, Georgia had devoted herself to becoming Cayden’s perfect wife and hadn’t accepted any work. Purchasing the villa had drained almost all of her savings. It was time to begin earning money again and enjoy a more comfortable life.

    “I’ll accept the assignment if it won’t put me in danger,” Georgia said. “Before agreeing to anything for me, investigate every detail and make sure there are no hidden problems.”

    Jake knew what had made her so careful. Three years earlier, Georgia had saved someone’s life during a job, but the rescue had damaged the interests of some dangerous people, who had hired assassins to eliminate her. Without her quick instincts and Jake’s help, she might not have survived that attack.

    “Understood. I’ll meet with them first and find out what they really want,” Jake replied.

    After leaving Isabel at the hospital, Cayden drove to Celeste Estate, the home he had once shared with Georgia.

    The darkness surrounding the villa reminded him that she no longer lived there.

    Cayden remained inside his car and lit a cigarette. He smoked it to the end in silence before stepping out and entering the house.

    As he looked around the living room, he somehow thought of how Georgia used to keep the lights on and wait for him to come home.

    He had taken those quiet, warm moments for granted, but now they were gone. Their absence irritated him more than he wanted to admit. He approached the liquor cabinet, poured himself a drink, and swallowed it all at once.

    He took out his phone and searched for Georgia’s number before calling her. However, the number was no longer in service.

    Cayden checked the number and confirmed that he hadn’t made a mistake. Once he understood what Georgia had done, a short laugh escaped him without any real amusement.

    He was surprised to realize that she had cut him off even more firmly than he had expected.

    Throughout their three years together, she had remained quiet, gentle, and easy to control. Even when he asked for a divorce, the pain on her face had made it obvious that she wasn’t ready to let him go.

    Only a few days had passed, yet she had already canceled the number he knew.

    Cayden called Ian and gave him a firm order. “Find Georgia.”

    …

    The next day, Ian approached Cayden. “Mr. Marshall, I couldn’t locate Ms. Campbell.”

    Back then, Georgia had entered Cayden’s life without warning. He discovered that she was an orphan, and since he needed a wife who could satisfy his family, he chose her.

    She had no powerful background or personal influence, which meant she couldn’t threaten his position. Those qualities had made her the safest choice.

    Cayden never imagined that the woman who accepted nothing from him would disappear so thoroughly after leaving. No one could tell him where she had gone.

    “Continue searching!”

    He refused to believe that Georgia could vanish without leaving a single clue.

    Just then, Cayden received a call from the hospital.

    “Mr. Marshall, the toxin has caused Ms. Brooks to suffer another episode. She’s only partly conscious and keeps asking for you. She refuses to settle down until she sees you, so we had no choice but to call.”

    “Tell her I’m coming now.” Cayden ended the call, rose from his seat, and hurried out.

    Three years ago, Cayden’s enemy had tricked and drugged him. While the drug threatened his life, he had become intimate with a woman he believed was Isabel.

    Since that night had been her first time, guilt and sympathy led him to accept responsibility for her.

    Even so, something had always felt wrong whenever Cayden spent time with Isabel. Instead, he had found himself more relaxed and at ease whenever he was with Georgia.

    Thoughts of Georgia’s sudden disappearance tightened Cayden’s expression.

    Shortly after Cayden entered the hospital, Georgia arrived wearing a baseball cap and a mask.

    She rode the elevator upstairs and made a call after stepping into the hallway. “I’ve arrived. Where should I meet you?”

    The directions led Georgia to the neurosurgery director’s office.

    “Benjamin!” she called out.

    Benjamin Gordon, her former classmate, recognized the voice immediately. He turned around and pulled her into a tight hug. “You finally came back. Where have you been the last three years? You disappeared without giving me a single word.”

    “I got married,” Georgia replied plainly.

    Shock crossed Benjamin’s face. “You got married? Who is your husband?”

    He could hardly believe that someone had convinced a woman like Georgia to become his wife.

    Georgia ignored the question and gave him a different answer. “I’m divorcing him.”

    Benjamin went quiet as uncertainty crossed his face. The congratulations he had nearly offered never left his mouth.

    Georgia showed no concern as she sat down. “What made you reach out to me?”

    “Our mentor has a longtime friend who requires surgery. The family came to me because they wanted my help, but the patient is elderly and the condition is difficult. I don’t trust myself to handle the operation alone, so I hoped you would assist me.”

    Benjamin had contacted her without expecting much. Georgia had vanished for three years without a single message, so reaching her the previous night had come as a complete surprise.

    One of Georgia’s eyebrows rose. “I haven’t entered an operating room in years. What if my skills have become rusty and I end up damaging your reputation?”

    Benjamin refused to entertain the idea. “If a surgeon as skilled as you could fail, then I have no right to attempt the operation by myself.”

    “Alright. Show me the patient’s scans first.”

    After reviewing the scans, Georgia rose from her chair. “Choose a time for the surgery and send me the details.”

    Another thought came to her and she added, “Find out which hospital room Isabel Brooks is in.”

    Benjamin asked without thinking, “Who is Isabel? Is she someone you know?”

    “She’s the love of my husband,” Georgia said casually. “Our marriage is ending because of her.”

    Benjamin stared at her in shock and couldn’t think of anything to say.

    Georgia soon located Isabel’s room and looked through the glass panel in the door. Isabel rested on the bed in striped hospital clothes. Her soft, innocent features were the kind that easily stirred a man’s protective instincts. Still, Georgia found nothing especially beautiful about her. In fact, Isabel was not nearly as beautiful as she was.

    Cayden must’ve been both blind and stupid to choose a woman like that. His taste was truly terrible.

    Beyond the glass, Cayden peeled an orange with his own hands and fed Isabel one piece at a time. He spoke to her gently, and a soft smile occasionally appeared on his face.

    Cayden had always treated Georgia properly throughout their marriage, but an unseen wall had kept them apart. Not once had he shown her the tenderness he now gave Isabel so freely.

    Georgia refused to watch any longer and ruin her own mood, so she turned away.

    Some instinct made Cayden raise his head at that exact moment. He then left his chair and hurried into the hallway, where he caught sight of a familiar figure disappearing around the corner.

    The person looked very much like Georgia.

    Cayden went after her but crossed paths with Ian, who had arrived to take him to the office.

    “Mr. Marshall, is something wrong?” Ian asked.

    Cayden stopped and asked him in a low voice, “Did you pass anyone on your way here?”

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • His Abandoned Wife, Now Untouchable by Decaf Demon

    His Abandoned Wife, Now Untouchable by Decaf Demon
    👉 READ NOW

    For four years, I played the part of the perfect, pathetic wife to my billionaire husband, Damian Nunez. Bleeding from a gunshot wound I took to secure a multi-billion-dollar deal for his company, I dragged myself to our penthouse, ready to finally end the charade.

    👉 READ NOW

    His Abandoned Wife, Now Untouchable Chapter 1 Divorce, leaving with nothing

    June’s brutal sun blazed down, warping the New York City skyline in a haze of sweltering heat.
    Gabriella stepped out of the corporate skyscraper, her clothes streaked with drying blood. She stared down at the signed partnership contract in her hand, a bitter smile tugging at her delicate, porcelain features.
    She’d taken a bullet to lock this deal down.
    And it would be the last thing she ever did for Damian Nunez.
    Damian had chased her relentlessly for three years. They’d been married for one, until he’d looked her dead in the eye and said he was bored of her. At first, she’d screamed, fought, sobbed-only to be met with his cold, cutting mockery. “Gabriella, you look hideous right now. You make me sick. Let’s get a divorce.”
    She’d found out later it was never just boredom. He’d met his so-called soulmate.
    He hadn’t set foot in their Tribeca penthouse in two months, not since the day he’d first mentioned divorce.
    There was no point in dragging this out any longer.
    Gabriella changed out of her bloodied clothes, hailed a yellow cab, and rode straight to Damian’s downtown Manhattan headquarters. She took the private elevator directly to the top-floor executive suite, and before she could reach the office door, a soft, breathy female voice froze her to the spot, drifting through the crack in the heavy oak door.
    “Damian, stop it… you’re gonna make my lips swell.”
    A sharp, searing pain seized Gabriella’s chest.
    To force herself to let go completely, she pushed the half-open door and stepped inside.
    The lavish, sprawling office came into view. Hayleigh Blair was perched in Damian’s lap, face flushed, lips swollen and marked, clear evidence of what they’d been doing only moments before.
    The biological daughter of the Blair family that had taken Gabriella in-the same woman who’d always claimed this marriage was meant to be hers.
    When she saw Gabriella walk in, panic flashed across her young face, and she scrambled off Damian’s lap. “Sis, I-“
    Gabriella didn’t spare her a single glance. She walked straight to the solid mahogany desk, set down the signed partnership contract, and laid a divorce agreement on top of it.
    Only then did she look up at the man across from her: Damian Nunez, the wealthiest man in New York City. He wore a tailored black dress shirt and slacks, exuding lazy old-money elegance, his features sharp and devastatingly handsome. Beneath his dark, swept-back hair, his face twisted into cold disgust as he stared at her-a look that sent a stabbing pain straight through her chest.
    “The corporate partnership is locked down. Fully executed contract,” she said, her voice eerily calm, as if this marriage meant nothing to her at all. “Beneath it is the divorce agreement. I’ve already signed it. It’s 2 PM. We’re going to the courthouse to finalize this today.”
    Only the deathly pallor of her face, and the way her thin, fragile frame swayed unsteadily on her feet, gave away the agony she was in.
    A flicker of surprise crossed Damian’s face, quickly replaced by his usual icy contempt. “Color me impressed, Gabriella. Half the firms on Wall Street couldn’t close this deal, and you locked it down. I’m curious-how exactly did you get this over the line?”
    His low, drawling voice dripped with disdain, as if he was already certain she’d used underhanded means to secure the contract.
    Gabriella’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her gaze dropping for a split second to hide the raw pain in her eyes. She let out a cold, hollow laugh. “You only care about the end result, don’t you, Mr. Nunez? Why do you care about the process? Are you gonna sign the divorce papers, or not?”
    Hayleigh looked up at Damian anxiously, voice tight and pleading. “Damian, you promised you’d marry me. This marriage was never meant to be hers in the first place-it was mine. I’m back now, and you have to keep your promise.”
    Damian lifted a hand, brushing his fingers gently over her soft cheek, before glancing at Gabriella, expression dark and unreadable. “Marry you? Of course I will. I’m gonna finalize the divorce with this woman right now.”
    The tenderness in his eyes as he looked at Hayleigh cut through Gabriella’s chest like a knife. In that moment, she realized with a sickening jolt that Damian had never looked at her with that much softness. Not once in all their years together.
    “Damian, I knew you’d always choose me,” Hayleigh cooed, snuggling happily into his chest, shooting Gabriella a triumphant, challenging smirk over his shoulder.
    Gabriella dropped her gaze to the floor, refusing to look at the sight shattering her heart. She could barely tell if the searing pain was from the bullet wound in her side, or the one that had just split open her chest.
    Damian picked up the divorce agreement, flipping through the pages until he landed on the clause Gabriella had amended. His pupils constricted violently, voice dropping to a dangerous, gravelly rumble. “You’re waiving every single right to the Nunez family fortune? You’re walking away with nothing? A clean break?”
    Gabriella forced the words out through gritted teeth, voice hoarse and broken. “If we’re getting a divorce, we’re cutting ties completely. I want nothing from you.”
    Once she’d made up her mind, she never turned back.
    Four years. Her four years with him were over. It was time to leave, for good.
    Damian’s handsome face shifted, a storm of conflicting emotions raging in his deep eyes, disdain plain to see. “That’s so you, Gabriella. You always have to be this ruthless with everything. Let’s go. The courthouse.”

    His Abandoned Wife, Now Untouchable Chapter 2 She was shot in a calculated attack

    A bitter smile tugged at Gabriella’s lips. So this was what she’d always been to him.
    An hour later, Gabriella and Damian Nunez stepped out of the New York City Civil Courthouse, each holding a finalized divorce decree in their hand.
    Hayleigh Blair waited eagerly by the curb, eyes lighting up the second she saw the divorce papers in Damian’s hand. She’d finally earned the right to be Damian Nunez’s wife, fair and square.
    She put on a fake look of concern as she glanced at Gabriella. Something had shifted in the woman-her striking features were even more captivating now, but there was a cold, unapproachable edge to her that made it hard to meet her eye.
    Hayleigh had always been jealous of that face. Now, she’d never have to look at it again.
    “The family doesn’t want you anymore, and you walked away with nothing,” Hayleigh simpered, voice sickly sweet. “Do you even have anywhere to go?”
    In her eyes, Gabriella was nothing but a backwoods hick from the Ohio Rust Belt. It had been a blessing for her to even be tied to the Blair household, and now that blessing was gone.
    Gabriella let out a cold, humorless laugh. Even now, Hayleigh was still pretending to care about her.
    Memories flashed through her mind, sharp and unforgiving: when the Blairs found out she’d been switched at birth, they’d shipped her off to live with distant relatives in the Rust Belt the second she was born, never checking in, never caring. They’d only brought her back to New York when she turned 18-the same year she’d met Damian Nunez.
    Hayleigh, the Blairs’ real daughter, had been found two years prior, immediately sent to an elite private boarding school in Switzerland, all to make her worthy of old-money heir Damian Nunez.
    It wasn’t until Hayleigh returned to New York for good that Gabriella learned the truth: the family had found their real daughter, and they wanted nothing to do with her anymore.
    They’d never raised her. Cutting ties meant nothing to her. She’d only come back to New York to find out what had happened to her birth parents.
    She’d also finally learned why she’d been sent away in the first place: she was never a Blair, not by blood.
    And just a few days prior, she’d overheard Damian’s friends talking, and learned the truth: Damian had met the sweet, innocent Hayleigh on a business trip to Europe, and fallen head over heels at first sight. When Hayleigh came back to New York, they’d fallen into a whirlwind romance.
    Hayleigh had even sent Gabriella explicit photos of her and Damian in bed, over and over, just to taunt her, to humiliate her.
    A homewrecker, bold and unapologetic to the extreme.
    Gabriella shot her a single, indifferent glance. “Don’t trouble yourself, Miss Blair. Where I go is none of your business.”
    She didn’t spare Damian a single look. Spine perfectly straight, she hailed a yellow cab on the side of the road and climbed inside, the door slamming shut behind her.
    She’d walked away so decisively because she knew the other terrible thing Damian had done.
    Damian’s hand tightened around the divorce decree until his knuckles turned white, veins bulging in his forearm. She’d left without even glancing at him. Not once.
    But why had her gait been so off? So strange?
    He stared at the cab as it disappeared into New York traffic, gaze fixed on the empty road long after it was gone, unable to look away.
    “Damian, this is perfect!” Hayleigh gushed, clinging to his arm. “That backwoods hick is finally gone, and we can be together, properly, for everyone to see.”
    She was so overjoyed, she could barely wait to call her parents and tell them the good news.
    A cold glint flashed through Damian’s eyes, but his voice was soft and tender when he spoke. “Hayleigh, let me drive you home.”
    “Oh, that’s wonderful!” Hayleigh beamed. “Daddy will be so happy when he hears you’re divorced. Let’s go home and tell him the good news right now!”
    Damian’s eyes swirled with barely restrained emotion, unreadable to anyone but himself. He looked down at the sweet, innocent young woman in front of him, and smiled a soft, gentle smile. “Of course, Hayleigh. Let’s go tell your father right now.”
    “Yes!” Hayleigh was ecstatic. She’d finally gotten rid of Gabriella for good. Gone completely. It was all thanks to her mother’s flawless plan, the one that had gotten Damian and Gabriella divorced once and for all.
    Damian pulled the car to a stop in front of the Blair family’s grand Upper East Side townhouse. His phone buzzed in his pocket, caller ID flashing the CEO of H.Y. Holdings. He told Hayleigh to get out of the car and wait for him inside.
    Hayleigh nodded obediently, climbing out and waiting on the front steps.
    “Hello?” Damian answered, voice low and gravelly, features sharp and cold.
    A mocking, yet deeply impressed voice came through the line. “Well, well. Your sales director’s got some real nerve. Showed up at my warehouse with a knife to my throat, made me sign that damn contract. I put a bullet in her side, and she dug that slug out with her bare hands right in front of me. I’ve never admired a woman in my life, but your Gabriella? She’s the one. She still breathing?”
    Damian’s pupils constricted violently, his blood turning to ice in his veins. “What did you just say?”

    His Abandoned Wife, Now Untouchable Chapter 3 Left, picked up by a luxury car

    Damian hung up the phone, knuckles white around the device, and immediately dialed his executive assistant’s number.
    “Where is Gabriella Blair?”
    “Mr. Nunez, Miss Blair stopped by the estate briefly earlier. She grabbed a single suitcase and left.”
    Damian had known she would leave, but he’d never imagined she’d vanish this fast. Shot, and with nowhere to go?
    “Did she say where she was going?”
    “No, sir. But Director Blair was picked up by a multi-million dollar luxury vehicle. A man was behind the wheel-handsome, clearly extremely wealthy.”
    A sheet of ice instantly descended over Damian’s dark eyes. He slowly set the phone down on his desk, face schooled into a mask of casual indifference, even as rage and venom coiled tight in his chest.
    Divorced for less than a day, and she’s already being chauffeured around by some rich bastard. She never loved me at all, did she? That’s why she betrayed me without a second thought.
    Gabriella, you’re really something.
    Gabriella had been picked up by her older brother, Andrew Carlisle, and driven straight to Carlisle Manor-the Carlisle Foundation’s palatial, heavily guarded private estate in the heart of Manhattan’s Upper East Side. Andrew had been called away on urgent foundation business, leaving her alone in the manor. He had no idea she’d been shot.
    She lay back on the soft, custom-made king-sized bed, staring at the familiar, opulent surroundings of the suite she hadn’t stepped foot in for four years. She couldn’t hold on any longer. Her face was deathly pale, cold sweat beading and dripping down her forehead. The searing pain from the bullet wound in her side, tangled with the crushing heartache in her chest, was unbearable.
    She lay there weak and exhausted, eyes closed, long lashes trembling softly. She couldn’t understand it. How could two people who’d once loved each other so deeply, fall apart so completely, so suddenly?
    Every memory of the past four years with Damian flashed through her mind-the soft, tender look in his eyes that was once only for her, a look that now belonged to someone else forever. The thought sent a searing, tearing pain through her chest.
    It turned out even the most heartfelt vows had an expiration date.
    There was another reason she’d been so determined to finalize the divorce: she was pregnant.
    But Damian had eyes and ears everywhere, his reach endless across Wall Street and Manhattan. She could never, under any circumstances, let him find out about the baby.
    After she’d been shot, she’d dug the bullet out of her own side with her bare hands. She’d refused anesthesia, terrified it would harm the baby growing inside her.
    Her mind drifted to the promise she’d made her grandfather, the head of the Carlisle Foundation, all those years ago. She’d finally made her decision: she would return home, take her rightful place as the sole heir to the Carlisle legacy.
    She had finally let go of this broken relationship for good. It was time to return to where she truly belonged, to step back into her true identity: Gabriella Carlisle.
    One Month Later.
    Early autumn, bright and sun-drenched.
    Gabriella’s wound had fully healed. She stepped out of Carlisle Manor, slipping a pair of oversized designer sunglasses over her eyes. She stared up at the brilliant sunlight, a deep, unbridled smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
    For a month, she’d lain low here, cutting off all contact with the outside world.
    She wore a sharp, tailored crimson blazer, her red lipstick bold and vivid, her smile unruly and free. She climbed into the waiting luxury sedan at the curb, and gave the driver a single instruction: the Nunez Group headquarters. She was going to collect the last of her things from her office.
    At the base of the Nunez Group skyscraper.
    Gabriella pulled open the car door, and came face to face with Damian Nunez, who was just stepping out of the building. Beside him stood Hayleigh Blair, her smile soft and demure, her arm looped through his.
    The tender, loving look in Damian’s eyes as he glanced down at Hayleigh stabbed straight through Gabriella’s chest. Her hand at her side clenched into a tight fist, unbidden.
    Hayleigh’s eyes flicked to Gabriella, a flash of surprise crossing her face-what was she doing back here? But her expression smoothed over instantly, and she shot Gabriella a challenging, triumphant smile. “Blair, long time no see!” she greeted, voice sickly sweet.
    Gabriella ignored her completely.
    Damian looked at Gabriella with a lazy, mocking smirk, his gaze sweeping past her to the multi-million dollar luxury sedan idling behind her. Their eyes locked, and his sharp, penetrating gaze drifted, almost imperceptibly, to her side where the bullet wound had been.
    He let out a cold, sharp laugh, disgust swirling in the depths of his eyes. “You’ve got quite the life, Blair. Took a bullet to the side, and you’re still up and walking around like nothing happened. You’re lucky to be alive.”
    A sharp, searing pain lanced through Gabriella’s chest. The heart he’d broken hadn’t gone numb; it hurt worse than ever, now that he’d said it out loud. “My apologies for not dying and disappointing you,” she said, voice flat and cold. “I’m just here to collect my things from my office, then I’ll be gone.”
    Damian stared at her cold, emotionless gaze, his eyes growing darker, more frigid, more bloodthirsty by the second. “No wonder you walked away with nothing in the divorce, Gabriella. You already had your next sugar daddy lined up, didn’t you? You’re absolutely shameless.”
    The words stabbed into her chest like a knife. Gabriella looked up at his cruel, smirking face, and let out a cold, bitter laugh. “You cheated on your wife while you were still married, Mr. Nunez. What right do you have to call me shameless?”
    She stepped past the two of them, spine perfectly straight, and walked toward the glass doors of the Nunez Group skyscraper.
    Damian’s furious voice boomed out from behind her, sharp and unyielding: “Gabriella! Stop right there!”

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