I turned on my heel and exited the room with whatever dignity as i could muster. But With every step down the stairs, I felt my delicately constructed world crumble around me. My fingers grazed the banister, the weight of my wedding ring now too much to bear.
I moved through the darkened rooms of our – my – home, my head replaying every lie, every betrayal. How long had this been going on? How many business trips had been covers for their trysts? How many times had Sarah consoled me about James's distance, all while warming his bed behind my back?
My hand reached to the mantel for the wedding photo. The smile in that picture was mockery now. Gently, I laid it down: cold glass against the heat of my anger.
I fell onto the plush sofa in the quiet house, my body numb. For the first time in years, I'd allowed myself to feel it-to truly feel it. The loss. The rage. The betrayal. One lonely tear slipped down my cheek, scalding as it fell.
I wiped it away, refusing to break any further. This moment of weakness would be my last.
In silent vow, while the storm raged outside, matching the tempest in my heart, I wouldn't be the victim anymore. James and Sarah had no idea what they'd just unleashed.
I stood, making my way to the bar. I poured amber liquid into a crystal tumbler, giving myself a generous measure of scotch. The burn as it slid down my throat was a welcome distraction from the ache in my chest.
My phone buzzed insistently. A glance showed missed calls and messages from James. Without thought, I silenced it.
Instead, I pulled up my contacts and dialed a number I rarely used. It rang twice before a gruff voice answered.
"Olivia? It's the middle of the night. What's wrong?"
"Marcus," I said, my voice steady despite my churning gut. "I need you to draw up divorce papers. Immediately."
"Olivia, are you sure? This is—"
"I have never been surer about anything," I cut him off, "I want everything ready for morning. And Marcus? The prenup? Bulletproof. I want him to feel it in his bank account for years to come."
"Consider it done," Marcus said. "I'll have a draft for you first thing."
I hung up, a grim satisfaction washing over me. My eyes fell upon a framed article dubbing me the "Ice Queen of the London Stock Exchange." The nickname once bothered me, but now... now I'd own it.
I tensed at footsteps. James stood at the doorway hastily dressed, his face a mask of guilt and fear.
"Liv, please," he began, stepping towards me. "We really have to talk about this. It was a mistake, I swear. It meant nothing."
I laughed; the sound was hollow, bitter. "A mistake? That's what you call fucking my best friend in our bed?" I reached for the scotch. "Tell me, James, how long has this 'mistake' been going on?"
He flinched at my words, his eyes darting away. "It was only a few times. I was weak, I—"
"Stop," I cut him off, my voice cold as ice. "I don't want your pathetic excuses. The only thing I want to hear is how quickly you can pack your things and leave my house."
"Your house? Olivia, be reasonable. We can work through this. We've built a life together—"
"No," I cut in. "You destroyed that life the second you decided to betray me. And let me make one thing clear—I'm the one who's been building this life. You've only been along for the ride."
I started toward him, my steps measured. He backed away as though cowed by my anger. "The papers will be ready in the morning. Sign them, and maybe — just maybe — I won't destroy you completely." I smiled without warmth. "The Ice Queen of London doesn't let anyone cross her without consequences."
James paled. "Olivia, please. I love you. We can fix this."
For a moment, I remembered the man I had fallen in love with. The shy smiles, late-night conversations, shared dreams. That man was dead, replaced by this beggarly, cheating stranger.
"No, James," I whispered, the last of my warmth gone. "We cannot. Now leave. You have until morning to gather your things."
As he turned to leave, I called after him, "Oh, and James? Tell Sarah she's fired. I expect her desk cleaned out by noon tomorrow."
Perhaps I had known all along that James was different, that something wild lay beneath his façade. The nights of full moons when he disappeared, claiming late work. The odd scratches that would surface on the bedroom floor. Signs I'd been too blind to see, or hadn't wanted to.
That final thud of the front door made me realize I was truly alone. I walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows and watched the storm batter the city. London lay spread out, a glittering expanse of lights and shadows—a city of opportunity, of reinvention.
Lightning split the sky, and my reflection showed a stranger. That girl who believed in happily ever afters was gone. A woman forged in betrayal, tempered in pain, stood in her place.
I raised my glass in silent toast. Let them believe I am weak. Let them believe they've broken me.
I am Olivia Blackwood, and from these ashes, I rise stronger than ever.
The storm raged on, but as I looked out over the city that would be mine anew, a strange calm settled over me.
It was just the beginning.
The night crackled with energy. It was three months since discovering James's betrayal. Wounds still felt raw, bleeding with every breath. I stood at the high-stakes charity gala with a glass of champagne clutched like a shield in my hands. My midnight gown clung to every curve, armor of silk and sequins.You're Olivia fucking Blackwood, I reminded myself. Ice Queen of the London financial district. You don't break.But beneath the façade, my heart churned with acrid bitterness. Every forced smile, every polite laugh-it was all a mask to cover the bleeding scars inside.I scanned the room, cataloging potential investors and rivals. That was when I saw him.Callum Wolfe.His entrance was magnetic, commanding the space around him in a way that was almost predatory. Eyes watched him, but it was me he locked with. His gaze burned, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. There was something raw in him, something dangerous. He didn't walk-he prowled, his tailored suit little camouflage
I stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of my corner office, watching city lights flicker to life as dusk settled over London. The view had once filled me with pride— Now it just felt hollow.Three months since I'd caught James in bed with my best friend. Three months of rebuilding myself, channeling every ounce of pain and betrayal into clawing my way up the corporate ladder. I was Olivia Blackwood, the Ice Queen of London's financial district. Untouchable. Unbreakable.At least, that was what I kept telling myself.My eyes fell onto the invitation to tonight's charity gala. Another night of phony smiles and networking. But it was necessary. I had a deal to close, one that would seal my position as the youngest partner in the firm's history.My phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number:*Looking forward to seeing you tonight, Ms. Blackwood. We have much to discuss. - C.W.*Callum Wolfe. The enigmatic CEO of Wolfe Industries, a man whose name was whispered in boardrooms with equ
Olivia's breath came in short, uneven gasps, her heart hammering from the attack. The bloodied scene around her froze her in place as she stared at Callum in shock, adrenaline making her head struggle to catch up. The metallic scent of blood mingled with an earthy, wild smell she couldn't place.She couldn't get the images out of her head—Callum tearing through those things like they were nothing. The precision, the raw force; utterly inhuman. His movements had been fluid, predatory, terrifying in their efficiency. Standing before her now, the man she thought she knew was something far beyond comprehension.His eyes glowed unnaturally in the dim light, a molten gold that seemed to pierce right through her. One word reverberated within her mind, impossible yet undeniable: *werewolf*. The very thing that couldn't exist, shouldn't exist, yet clearly did."I need you to listen," he said, his voice strained like he knew the extent of her shattered world. A world where monsters were real, a
I stepped into Callum's packhouse with my heart pounding against my ribs, a caged animal. In this place, I wasn't just an outsider; I was a threat, a reminder of what Callum had once promised me and then cast aside.Every fibre of instinct in my body screamed at me to turn and run, to flee this world that was never meant to be mine. I made myself keep my chin high-not to show the nerves that were coiling in my stomach. I could feel the weight of every gaze on me: the curious and the hostile, the calculating. Callum's pack was watching, weighing my worth with every step I took beside him."Welcome to my home, Olivia," Callum whispered-the air from his voice fluttering low and warm against my ear. I managed a tight nod, not trusting my voice. The air was thick and heavy, weighted with an energy that charged my skin. This wasn't going to be just meeting the pack; this was about facing a life denied.We moved further into the packhouse, and two figures drew my attention. They stood at th
I would never have believed that I would ever be standing here, between two worlds with a sense of belonging to neither. The tightrope that I balance between human life and this new, dangerous, werewolf reality grows thinner with each passing day. And Callum? He will continue to grow as elusive as the moon, which dictates his transformation. Sometimes I catch myself wondering if I ever truly knew him at all.I stroll toward the elevator, the gleaming marble of Wolfe Industries' lobby echoing beneath my heels. I've learned to pull off unshakeable—head high, shoulders back, the very picture of rising star in London's financial district. Inside? I'm a maelstrom of doubt and fear, each step feeling like a performance in a play I never auditioned for.The elevator doors slide open, and she's standing inside.Emilia Hawthorne.My breath catches at her effortless grace. All sharp features and cool confidence, she commands the small space as if it were a boardroom. Still, there is something a
The morning rain beat against the floor-to-ceiling windows of Wolfe Industries' conference room, matching the storm in my chest. My fingers were shaking a little as I adjusted my laptop for the third time, its sleek device a poor shield against the primal energy radiating from Callum at the head of the table. Even in his perfectly tailored Tom Ford suit, he breathed raw power. A flicker across my skin prickled with awareness.I forced myself to breathe, to maintain that ice-queen veneer which had been my protection against the world since James's betrayal. But when Callum's amber eyes met mine across the gleaming mahogany table, that carefully wrought control faltered. For a heartbeat, his gaze gentled, and something in me stirred with a yearning I would not admit.The spell was snapped the instant Amelia Thornton swanned into the room, her platinum blonde hair glowing under the recessed lights. The way she posted herself up at Callum's right hand, posed in perfect ease in her Chanel
The text from James hits me like a physical blow, making my coffee cup tremble in my grip. Around me, Callum's pristine Mayfair office blurs at the edges as I stare at the glowing screen, my ex-husband's words burning into my retinas: *"I know I hurt you, but I've changed. The affair was the biggest mistake of my life. Can we talk?"*Thunder rumbles outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, echoing the storm brewing in my chest. Across the mahogany desk, Callum continues reviewing acquisition documents, his broad shoulders tense. Even without looking up, I know he can sense my distress – the subtle flaring of his nostrils tells me my scent has changed with my rising anxiety.My hands shake as memories flood back: walking in on James and Sarah, my supposed best friend, tangled in our marital bed. The shattered trust. The humiliation. The divorce papers served over breakfast like they were nothing more than a business transaction. Three years later, and the wound still feels raw."Everythin
The soft glow of candlelight dances across the white tablecloth at Maison Laurent, casting deceptive warmth over James's familiar features. My fingers tremble around the stem of my wine glass as I try to ignore my buzzing phone. Another message from Callum – the fifth one in the past hour."You always did love their Bordeaux," James says, his voice carrying that same tender note that once made my heart skip. Now it just makes my stomach clench. "Remember our anniversary dinner here?"I take a larger sip than intended, letting the rich wine coat my tongue. "That was a long time ago, James." Too long to matter, I tell myself. Too long to still hurt this much.My phone vibrates again, more insistent this time. I glimpse the words "URGENT - rival pack" before turning the screen face-down. Whatever pack drama Callum's dealing with will have to wait. I need this – need to face my past before I can even think about a future."You look beautiful tonight, Liv." James reaches across the table,