Belle Madrigal was forced into a contract marriage with the enigmatic and powerful Alistair Kensington, heir to Kensington Enterprises, to save her childhood home. The catch? Alistair was in a deep coma when the contract was signed. His ruthless father, Alexander Kensington, orchestrated the marriage to maintain control over the family empire. But when Alistair unexpectedly wakes up, the nightmare begins. Enraged by the forced marriage, he vows to punish Belle for what he believes is a scheme to trap him. His threats turn cruel when he swears that if they ever had children, he would erase their existence from the world. Four years later, Belle has rebuilt her life in France, raising her genius fraternal twins, Theodore and Rosalie, away from the man who once threatened them. But fate is cruel. A single hacked message from her tech-savvy son to a live TV broadcast sends a challenge to Alistair: "Come and get me, asshole." Now, with the past clawing its way back, Belle must fight to protect her children from the dangerous, brooding billionaire who is determined to reclaim what he unknowingly lost.
view moreBelle's heart skipped a beat as the knock boomed through the quiet house. Her breath froze in her throat and her body tightened. The day had already been weighty with unsaid dread; but, this... this felt different. Her hand floated over the door doorknob as she paused. At this hour, who could it be? She had hoped, fervently prayed, that they were safe. Deep down, though, she knew better. She made herself open the door with a soft sigh. There, on her porch, was a face she hadn't seen in years. A face from her history. A man she once knew as a friend, his loyalty constantly linked to Alistair. Impeccably dressed as usual, the lawyer stood there with a cool smile and sharp gaze. Belle's stomach turned. The last time she had seen him, he was part of Alistair's world, a world she had battled so hard to leave. But there he was, standing in front of her as though time had never gone. "Belle," he remarked, his voice frigid, remote. Though she stayed motionless, hesitant to allow him over
Alistair entered the softly lighted hotel lobby, his gaze searching every face he passed. He had no need to be careful. He was accustomed to being in charge, to watching the universe bend to his want. But today, something was unique. The air felt heavy with expectation, like the quiet before a storm. His fingertips grazed the edges of his coat while his keen eyes scanned the room. Lost in their own worlds, the individuals surrounding him appeared unaware of the tempest he was about to unleash. Alistair, though, was more knowledgeable. Everyone had a goal, and so did he. His boots tapped on the ground as he purposefully, methodically moved past the registration desk. His thoughts were sharp, running over every element of the data he had collected thus far. A woman in a crimson dress, too much perfume, eyes too wide entered the room; his gaze darted to the door. But she wasn't what he wanted. His phone buzzed in his pocket; he picked it up without pausing. "Alistair," came the voice
His eyes fixed on the flashing lines of code, Theodore's fingers raced across the tablet screen. Hours of digging further into the tangled web of Kensington Enterprises' network had left him at this. Every one more exciting than the last, his thoughts raced with ideas. A shadow in Theodore's childhood, his father Alistair Kensington was an enigma he had only known via tales and murmurs. At last, he could perhaps find something genuine. Theodore was resolute: just one more file. Digging deeper, his brow furrowed in focus, the tablet screen flickered. His mother's gentle footsteps on the corridor faded into the background. He could not be sidetracked. The screen froze for a second; then a fresh file came up, one he had never seen before. Unlike the others, it was not marked. Rather, it had a peculiar name: "Belle's Disappearance." Theodore felt a cold shudder down his back. Staring at the file, the words floating in front of him like a nightmare he hadn't requested, his heart raced.
Belle leaned over her desk in her modest legal office, with the only light coming from a flickering overhead bulb. The room was simple, no indications of luxury, no shining marble floors, just the sort of place you'd expect a single mother to labour away from the high-society life she formerly knew. Her eyes drifted to a picture of her son, Theodore, chuckling at some lost time from their past. Looking at the picture, a slight smile pulled at her lips. Whispering, "How did we get here?" she felt it heavy on her chest. Old paper and ink's scent permeated the air; the city's buzz outside was barely heard. Belle's fingers stopped moving on the documents before her. Alistair, her ex-husband, haunted her. His shadow remained significant even after all these years. Her priority now, though, was Theodore. All she did was for him. The sound of little feet racing along the corridor outside interrupted her thoughts. Just in time to watch Theodore rush into the room, eyes wide with excitement
Alistair's fingers pounded restlessly against the polished mahogany desk, his gaze darting between the never-ending stack of documents in front of him. He had a firm to manage, deadlines to meet, agreements to close, so he should have been concentrated; all he could think about was Belle. Months had passed since she vanished, months since he last saw her, and the stillness between them had grown intolerable. His gaze wandered to a desk photo of Belle, laughing, glowing. Her laughter's recollection plagued him, eating at him from the inside out. Not now, he realised he couldn't let her leave. Not after all that. Buzzing on his desk, the phone pulled him from his musings. He grabbed it, the harsh click of the receiver reverberating in the normally quiet workplace. "Yes?" he shouted, his voice tense with almost suppressed fury. He desired responses. He wanted them. "Sir," the voice on the other end seemed calm, professional. "We have Belle news." His pulse raced. "Where's she?" His v
"Bernard?" Her voice shook and she hardly identified it as her own. Emerging from the darkness into the cabin, he replaced his normal serenity with a jaw stiffness. He was aware of what she lacked. "They've found us," Bernard murmured quietly, almost as if speaking it out loud would make it more real. Showing no signs of panic, he swiftly and methodically collected their belongings. Belle's breath became shallow and her chest constricted. Are you certain? Moving his attention to the little pack in his hands, Bernard ignored her. But his voice was strong. They are approaching closer. We have to go right now. Belle's gaze on the cabin door sent a shiver down her spine. Her thoughts raced: was it Alistair's team or someone else pursuing them? She believed she had purchased enough time. But suddenly, as the sounds of motors got closer, the dread she'd been hiding for so long erupted like a dark tide, rising to consume her whole. Panic made her pulse race. Could she outpace Alistair'
She had left. The sheets twisted about his legs as Alistair leapt out of bed. His chest constricting, he breathed quicker. Stumbling out of the bedroom and into the corridor, his head spun. He had to locate her right now. He had to understand why she was missing, what had occurred. He didn't even recall when she departed, undetected slipping from his side. The memories of their last moments together were a muddle, the drunken haze of the night before still clouding his mind. But down inside, something primitive knew. She was gone; he was to blame. Rushing down the corridor, his eyes searching every corner and every shadow, his heart raced with eagerness as if expecting her to materialise out of nowhere. But there was no one. There was no one in the house. A voice crackled over the intercom just as he got to the stairs. "Sir, we found her car. She is no longer here. He felt a sinking in his gut. The words suffocated him, hanging in the air. She had fled. She had truly run. A floo
"It's time," he replied gently, his voice steady. Come in. Belle gazed out the window, her face reflected in the glass, but her mind was far else. Was this the correct option? The query made her heart hurt. She had abandoned everything, the house she always dreamed of, her relationship to Alistair, the life she had lived. The idea alone seemed like a betrayal, but she realised she couldn't remain. She looked at Bernard, his face unreadable as he concentrated on the highway. "I don't know whether I can do this," she said softly, her voice almost inaudible. "I don't know whether I can ever forgive him." Though he remained silent for a long time, Bernard's hold on the wheel grew stronger. His hands were constant, his will obvious. At last, he stated in a gentle but strong voice, "You're doing what you have to do." No one can decide this for you. Alistair is not even close. His remarks hurt more than she had expected. Alistair had let her down, using her as a pawn in a power struggl
"You're here," he whispered quietly, moving forward to greet her. Low and heavy with their shared secret, Bernard spoke. Rugged with a sharp jawline and dark eyes that always seemed to be judging the world around him, he was a man in his forties. He had always been faithful to her, but now more than ever, his deeds would show whether that loyalty stretched deeper than simple obligation. Belle said, her voice strained with stress, "I had no choice." Though the dread of being found still ate at her insides, she had been getting ready for this day for weeks. I am prepared. You claimed you could assist me. Bernard nodded, his eyes darting anxiously to the passage's dark shadows. Everything is set up. You must believe me. That is the only approach. Belle was unsure. Bernard had been there when no one else had, therefore she wanted to trust him. But after hearing what she had from Rosalie, the fear of treachery was like a darkness hanging over every choice she made. Could she now genuine
A sliver of golden light cut through the sheer drapes, tracing a thin path over the silk sheets. The scent of expensive cologne and last night’s champagne lingered in the air, mingling with the faintest trace of something forbidden. The world outside this penthouse was already awake cars honking, heels clicking against polished pavement but inside this gilded cage, time stood still.Belle Madrigal stirred, the cool satin against her bare skin a sharp contrast to the fevered heat of last night. Her mind felt thick, sluggish, as if swimming through the remnants of a dream. Then reality struck.She wasn’t in her own bed.Her lashes fluttered open, and the sight before her stole the breath from her lungs.A man stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, adjusting the cuffs of his crisp white shirt, his movements precise, unhurried like a king preparing for war. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his frame exuding raw power even in the simplest of gestures. Tousled dark hair framed a face so str...
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