Florence, a 22 year old girl who was arranging to marry a handicapped person. What will happen when she had to marry the brother of her fiancé who is hot and handsome but hates her to the core?
View MoreFlorence had been avoiding Tristan.After their last conversation, she had buried herself in her work, using the art room as an excuse to keep her distance. She convinced herself that she just needed space—that if she ignored the problem long enough, it would stop bothering her.But deep down, she knew better.Because it wasn’t just Tristan’s ruthlessness that haunted her.It was the fact that, despite everything, she hadn’t run.She should have been disgusted by what he had done. She should have been afraid of what it meant to be married to a man like him.But instead, some twisted part of her felt safe.Like as long as she was his, nothing could touch her.That was the most dangerous thought of all.She was trying to push it away when the door to the art room burst open.“Florence.”She flinched at the sharpness in Tristan’s voice. “What the hell?”Tristan stormed inside, his usual cool demeanor replaced by something raw and unfiltered. He looked furious. No, not furious—livid.Her
Florence was restless that night.She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts tangled in the storm Tristan had created. The guilt of Jennie’s tear-streaked face lingered in her mind, but so did Tristan’s unwavering declaration—No one messes with what’s mine.She turned on her side, gripping the blanket. The problem was that, despite everything, a small part of her—one she didn’t want to acknowledge—had felt safe hearing those words.She hated that.Frustrated, she threw off the covers and padded toward the kitchen. Maybe some water would help her clear her head.As she reached the dimly lit hallway, she noticed the faint glow from Tristan’s study. The door was ajar, and through the crack, she could see him seated at his desk, flipping through documents. The sight made her hesitate.She should just walk away.But her feet moved before she could stop herself.Florence pushed open the door and stepped inside. Tristan barely looked up, but she caught the way his fingers paused mo
The moment Florence stepped into the penthouse, the warmth of the place felt suffocating. She had been out in the cold, but the chill inside her chest had nothing to do with the weather.She dropped her bag by the door, her fingers still clenched around the sketchbook Jennie had destroyed. Her heart pounded, echoing the turmoil inside her. Tristan sat on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, a glass of whiskey in his hand. The room was dim, bathed in the soft glow of the fireplace.His gaze lifted from the documents in front of him, sharp and unreadable.“You’re late,” he remarked casually, taking a sip of his drink. “Where were you?”Florence swallowed down the lump in her throat. The anger that had been simmering in her blood threatened to boil over.“Jennie came to me,” she said, her voice cold.Tristan raised an eyebrow. “And?”Florence stepped further inside, her hands trembling. “You destroyed her father’s company. His company is going bankrupt.”Tristan didn’t flinch. Inst
Florence began to work on her assignments all over again. The professor refused to extend the deadlines as it was against the rule to do so. She had cursed at the professor for being so strict but deep down she knew that no professor would help her out . It was going against the rule. She straightened her black blouse as she sat on the stairs right in front of a beautiful lake. It was one of the most amazing spots to paint and today Florence was painting a landscape which was also her assignment. This was her second time drawing the same drawing.Past few days have been a disaster. She wasn't able to sleep for even a second and now her eye lids were getting heavy. She could really use some sleep.She brought her black coffee to her , trying her best to remain calm . Past few days, she had not seen Tristan much . The said guy would always be busy with his work. Truth to be told, Tristan kind of gave off a vibe of a playboy and Florence had no idea whether her husband was really bu
Tristan was sitting on the sofa with a book in his hand, his wet hair falling over his eyes as he glanced at the digital clock on the table in front of him. It blinked nine. Tristan frowned at the clock because as far as he knew, Florence is usually done with her classes before six in the evening and in extreme cases by seven. He hadn't had his dinner yet and he was looking at the door far too often. He didn't know why he was acting protective towards her , maybe because she was his responsibility or maybe because she is too young to be in his world. Not to forget that she would be an easy target for his enemies . He didn't even want to think about the circumstances. Just as he was about to call Florence, the door of his penthouse opened and in came Florence, who looked as if she was about to faint any second. A bile raised in Tristan's throat as he immediately stood from his place and threw the book carelessly on the sofa. "Where were you?" Tristan asked as he walked towards he
"Sean? Have you seen my file?" Florence asked as she walked towards Sean who sat on one of the benches in front of the university. He stopped sketching as he turned to look at her. Florence looked like a disaster at the moment. Her white pants were soiled at the bottom from mud and her long hair were tied up in a messy bun. She looked completely different from what she did when she arrived at the university. Looking how divested she looked, Sean immediately stood up and marched towards her. Beads of sweat were sticking over her forehead, her chest was heaving up and down as she frantically looked around to find her portfolio. She had brought it when she came this morning. She can't remember where she left it though." What do you mean? You had your file when we met this afternoon for lunch." Sean said and Florence looked as if she was close to crying. Her bandage was now a disaster too." I know… " Florence said her voice came out wavering. " I had it with me all the time but
Florence walked downstairs after waking up at eight in the morning. It was Saturday, the most awaited day of the week for the students. Florence was bone tired from all the work she had to do this week and hence she was looking forward to a nice weekend. She wanted to relax a little. As much as she loves to attend the university, she loves to be at her new home and do whatever she wants. She had a lot to do today with all the assignments piling up. She thought that this morning was similar to all the mornings she had for the last couple of days.But what she saw in the kitchen was not what she had ever expected. Tristan in the kitchen, wearing an apron. The man may be a jerk but he was a gorgeous jerk and Florence hate it to admit that." Are you awake yet or should I flaunt my beauty some more?" Tristan said before he looked up at his wife who was stuck on the stairs looking at him as if he had grown two pairs of horns. Her hair was wet from the shower and her long legs were
Florence sat in the cafeteria of her university. The area was filled with students trying to finish their meal in their lunch time , while Florence was busy with her laptop as she tried to write a report on a museum she visited a few days ago.It has been a week since she joined her studies again. She didn't think that she would be accepted back in the university after she had left for almost three months but the principal accepted her almost immediately. Later she discovered that Tristan was the one of the sponsors of this university and if they had not accepted her back then they would have lost a couple of thousands of dollars, they can't risk that. It was weird, especially when her professors began to treat her differently. They were much more friendly and polite to her than they have ever been. It didn't settle well with her but she had to take it for the next month or so and after that she was done with her studies.She never thought that marrying Tristan would make such a d
Six weeks later, Florence sat by the library room, reading one of the classic novels. She wore black leggings paired up with Black thirty and oversized red Sweater. The outfit was not one of her best but it was super comfortable and that was what matters after all. She tried to ignore how the housekeeper, who was currently dusting off the bookshelf , was looking at her.Florence squirmed in her seat as she tried to read the book but she felt as if Lisa , the housekeeper, was judging her.Well, how could anyone not? Everyone knew that this marriage was not out of love including the staff in the house. Lisa had hardly seen Florence and Tristan talking together and the old lady must be pitying the young soul that was trapped in this penthouse. Florence does nothing except sitting in the library or cooking in the kitchen. The lady would often give her looks filled with sympathy and Florence didn't know how to tell her that she didn't need her pity , so she just let her be.Lisa would
Florence found herself standing in front of the mirror, dressed in white gown. It was a bride gown. It was beautiful and Florence thought that this dress was now a waste. She almost felt bad for that.The room was a chaotic mess but she stood calmly , observing herself in the mirror. Violet had made her look beautiful. The staff were running around the house of her in-law.Her off shoulder White gown highlighted her collarbone but she couldn't wait to take this gown off, it was too heavy for her. The gown was kind of irritating her skin as well.It was her wedding day and her groom had gone missing. She adjusted her hair a little as she looked at her mother who was sitting on the chair with her head in her hands. Her mother was about to lose a fortune, of course she would be sad.She wasn't surprised that Edwin, her fiance, disappeared. The man never wanted to marry her and he had subtly made it clear for her a lot of times by taking her on a date and not saying a single word to her...
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