LOGINLavender faced the ultimate betrayal after discovering that her fiancé, the man she loved most, had been using her all along. He had only dated her to seek revenge against her father and to claim everything her late mother had left her as a gift to his real fiancee. Devastated, Lavender lost everything she owned to him, and her family was plunged into dire poverty as a result. Heartbroken, she fled her past, running away from her disowned father and the agonizing pain. She dedicated her life to caring for the "blessings" her ex-fiancé had left behind. But just when Lavender thought she had found a measure of peace, everything starts falling apart again. Forced to reconcile with her ex, Lavender is torn—he is a changed man now, but to her, he remains an enemy. As her bottled-up emotions resurface, past cases reopening, and his persistent efforts to win back her affection intensify, how long can Lavender's hatred last? This book is part of a series but can be read as a standalone. Although reading this book will enlighten some parts of the second book "It Started With A Kiss". You can also find the second book on Goodnovel.
View MoreLavender say in front of the vanity she had placed next to the window, watching the soft glow of morning light stretch across the horizon. The city, once a battlefield of deception and danger, now breathed in quiet serenity. The past year had been a slow unraveling—one thread at a time—of pain, guilt, and the suffocating memories Peyton had left behind.She exhaled, pressing her fingertips to the cool glass, tracing invisible lines as if drawing out the thoughts that refused to settle. Even now, she found it hard to believe it was over. Peyton was truly gone.Some nights, when the silence became too loud, she still imagined hearing that familiar voice—whispering in the dark, taunting her with the possibility of another cruel trick. For the first five months after Peyton's confirmed death, sleep had been a foreign concept. She had tried closing her eyes, willing herself into rest, but every time, panic clawed at her throat. The paranoia had been unbearable—always waiting, always expect
The color drained from her face. Her chair scraped against the wooden floor as she jolted to her feet. "Shit." The curse barely escaped her lips before she reached for the gun hidden at her waist, but Lavender was faster.A flick of her wrist. A barely visible glint of silver.Pain exploded through Giovanna’s hand as something sharp embedded itself into her wrist. She screamed, the gun slipping from her grasp and clattering to the floor.Lavender was on her in an instant. She surged forward, pulling out her own firearm and stepping down hard on Giovanna’s fallen weapon, keeping it out of reach. The weight of her shoe against the cold metal was final, unwavering.Giovanna froze as something much colder pressed against her temple—the barrel of a gun.Her body went rigid. Her mind raced. She had underestimated Lavender, had stayed alone in this room like a fool, thinking she had control. But it was fine. It had to be fine.Her guards were right in the next room.Any second now, they would
Lavender pulled up to the farmhouse, her car rolling to a stop in front of the small, unassuming structure. The address had led her here—a lonely farm tucked away in an open plain, the kind of place where screams would be swallowed by the wind and a body could be disposed of without a trace. How convenient. How utterly unsightly.She exhaled softly, slipping the key card back into the pocket of her coat. Her eyes swept over the land, taking in the neglected fields, the weathered fences barely holding together. No doubt, the original owners had been struggling—probably desperate enough to sell it off without questioning who was buying. A fleeting thought crossed her mind: purchasing this place herself, restoring it, turning it into something profitable.She shook that thought away and strode toward the house, her shoes crunching against dry earth. There was no hesitation in her steps, no pause at the door to knock or ring the bell. Instead, she gripped the doorknob, twisted it, and step
The clock ticked in slow, measured beats, each second stretching, elongating, suffocating. The rhythmic beeping of the cardiac monitor filled the room, a relentless reminder of the fragile life tethered to its machines. The air was thick, sterile, laced with the sharp scent of antiseptic that did nothing to mask the underlying bitterness of despair. The fluorescent lights cast a cold, artificial glow over the large hospital ward, highlighting the stark contrast between the warmth of the floral-printed bedding and the icy stillness of the girl lying upon it.Serenity remained motionless, her small body pale, her chest rising and falling only by the will of the ventilator. Tubes snaked around her, connecting her to a maze of medical equipment that hummed softly, keeping her alive. She should have been running, laughing, causing the kind of mischief that only she could—but instead, she was trapped in a prison of unconsciousness, a mere shell of the vibrant child she had been days ago.Lav












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