Leonora Bardwell’s life is turned upside down completely when her husband, Evan Montague, betrays her and steals all her fortune, leaving her with nothing but their son behind. Years later, Leonora manages to locate him, but he is now a powerful man with another identity and is engaged to another woman, the daughter of a powerful werewolf moghul, Phillippa Montgomery. Leonora infiltrates every aspect of his life to make him pay for what he did to her, however, Evan is still the same man who won her heart all those years ago. Will she lose herself while seeking revenge? Will she overestimate her abilities to objectively ruin his life? Or will she succeed and bring down the man who caused her so much harm?
View MoreMore and more people keep showing up and it's starting to make my head hurt.
I'm tired of hearing the condolences. I'm tired of the many heartfelt words that people are pouring down on me. I just want to be able to grieve the death of my parents in peace. Is that too much to ask? It's been a week since the car crash and my heart is still heavy with pain. I don't think this pain will ever go away. They were the only people I had in my life and I feel lost without them. Utterly lost. What do I do in this big house? How will I manage the estate and the company all by myself? Anthony, my father's best friend, promises that he'll help me and that he'll never leave my side and to be honest, I don't know what I would've done without him. He's been there for as long as I can remember and my father trusted him. I should trust him, too. The last guests leave and I show them the door. I force a smile on my face and allow myself to feel grateful because at least they were the only ones who came today. Maybe they'll stop coming. I don’t know most of these people. They claim to be friends and all I can do is receive them properly like a proper girl. Once I close the door, I sigh. I need to sleep. I need a bath. I need my parents back. The last thought nearly brings me to tears but I have cried way too much and I feel like there aren't any tears left. I walk toward the living area and sit down. There's a fire in the hearth and the room is warm but I feel incredibly cold. This place used to be my favorite in the house, especially because of the stone fireplace and the warm brown decor. My father was a hunter and it shows because of the taxidermied animals on the walls. I can't help but think about him as I look around. Finally, I have some time to think. It's impossible to do so when the house is always crowded and everyone wants to talk to me. I rub my face and put my head in my hands, tears gleaming in my eyes. It's not that I'm not thankful for the support. I'm just tired. Exhausted. Stretched thin. Shocked. I sit back on the couch and close my eyes just as I hear the doorbell ringing. My eyes spring open and I feel a wave of anger washing over me, destroying every ounce of politeness inside of me. I stay put, determined not to answer. Maybe if I ignore it, whoever is out there will just walk away. I can't do this today. I can't. Nope. There's the ringing sound again. The sound has already started traumatizing me and whenever I hear it, my heart sinks in my chest. I clench my jaw and stand up, my high-heeled boots clicking against the wooden floor. I storm toward the door, determined to lash out at whoever is there. I don't care anymore. I open the door angrily and it bangs open. The man standing at the door flinches at the sound and gives me a look that makes all my anger leech out of my body. I lower my eyes, feeling so embarrassed at my outburst. "Sorry," I say. "I'm so sorry." "It's alright," he answers, his voice deep and as smooth as honey. "Sorry, is this a bad time?" "No," I say, looking back at his face. He's young, maybe around my age, but he's tall and has piercing eyes, so maybe he's not as young as I think he is. I don't know. He doesn't hold himself like an eighteen year old. He's dressed in all black, and his eyes are just about the brightest blue I've ever seen. "It's not." "You're probably wondering why I'm here," he says, his eyes searching my face in a way that makes me feel self-conscious. I'm not sure why, but I'm blushing. "Firstly, I'd like to ask, are you Leonora Bardwell?" "I am," I answer before clearing my throat. "Great," he says, his tone getting more serious. "I guess I should properly introduce myself, then. My name is Evan Montague and I was the one who called the police. I found your parents." The mention of my parents makes my heart sink. "Oh, yes. Of course." He then raises his arm and shows me a duffel bag. I didn't even notice him holding it. "This was in the backseat of their car." I frown and stare at the bag. "Sorry, but what is that?" "Money," he tells me. "A whole lot of it." I feel momentarily lost and then shake my head, remembering my manners. "Please, do come in." He enters the house and I notice how his head nearly touches the doorframe. He's that tall. I then walk ahead of him, showing him the living room. He puts the bag down on the coffee table and asks me to open it, which I do. Sure enough, there's a lot of money inside. I can't even guess how much. "Gosh," I say, stepping back. "Thank you for bringing this. I'm just confused...why do you have it and not the police?" "Well, to tell you the truth, your father asked me to bring the money to you," he answers. "He was still alive when I reached the scene, and he asked me to bring it to you. Naturally, I had to find out who you were first. He told me your name, you see. I guess he didn't trust the police to keep it. I know for a fact that most of them are crooks." I'm stunned and very grateful to him. My eyes fill with tears as I try to imagine my father trying to choke those words out. And he decided to come find me and give me the money. It's so much money. He could've ran off with it and I would never have known. I say, "Wow, I can't believe you went through all the trouble. I can't find the right words to thank you." "You're more than welcome, Leonora," he answers, his eyes on my face once more. Searching. He looks at me in a way that I've never been looked at before. It makes me feel something apart from the pain wrecking everything inside of me and threatening to turn my heart into dust. By the goddess, what's wrong with me? "I...I'm not sure if you're up to having a cup of coffee with me. Or tea. Or something." He slides his hands into the pockets of his black slacks smoothly. "Sure. I'd love to. Thank you for the invitation." "I'll have to make it myself because the maids are gone for the weekend," I inform him. "Why don't you follow me into the kitchen?" I somehow feel self-conscious walking into the kitchen, knowing that he's right behind me. I try not to trip and fall like an idiot. I reach the kitchen and fill the kettle with water. I then lean against the counter as I wait for it to boil and turn to face him. He's looking around covertly. When he catches me staring at him, he says, "I never extended my condolences to you. I'm sorry if that makes me seem rude." "No, on the contrary," I tell him. "I've heard that word so much in the past week that it started losing its meaning to me. It's just something people say even if they don't really mean it. Just because they have to." Evan watches me soberly. The sympathy in his eyes makes me tear up. I look away and sniffle. "Sorry. It's just still new to me. I can't seem to get over it." He takes a few steps toward me and says, "Don't apologize for being sad, Leonora. Not to me. Your parents are gone and I'm guessing that they were the people closest to you, correct?" I nod. "Well then, you're allowed to be sad and show sadness. Anyone who expects anything else from you is a dick. And I mean that." For some reason, his words make me chuckle a little as tears slide down my face. I don't apologize for them. The kettle stops boiling and Evan asks me whether I'm fine with him making the coffees. I say yes and sit down in the kitchen, watching him preparing the drinks. I feel something blooming inside of me. I haven't felt this comforted in what feels like an eternity. He brings the drinks over and we start talking. Just talking. Not about death or mourning, or accidents. About normal things that divert my mind away from the awful tragedy that has befallen my family and me. I find myself smiling for the first time in days. When we both realize it, about three hours have passed and it's dark outside. Evan glances at his gold watch and says, "Look at the time." He stands up and I do the same. His visit isn't like the other ones. I want him to stay. I don't eat him to go. He says, "I'm sorry for taking up so much of your time. I know that you probably have so much on your plate." "No, it's fine," I say, waving him off. "You've done more for me than the people who are actually close to me. Thank you so much for stopping by and for being honest." We walk toward the door. All the while, my heart is sinking and I feel like an idiot. A needy idiot. I open the door for him and he steps out. He says, "Thank you for having me, Leonora. Again, I'm so sorry for your parents. I really mean it." I nod, ignoring the sting in my nose. "Thank you. Again. For everything." Evan nods and starts walking down the stone steps. As I watch him go, I find myself wondering when I'll see him again and I feel so sad that I might not. Then, he stops walking abruptly, and then turns his head to look at me. My heart skips a beat. He makes his way back up the stairs, his eyes intently on mine. I wait for him to say something. Anything. I can't get the words out myself. This just feels so surreal. "I know this is probably too forward because I just met you," he begins, searching my eyes fervently, "but is it bad that I don't want this to be the last time we ever meet?" I gulp. My mouth is so dry. "No," I answer. "Not at all." His eyes light up and I feel a spark of hope inside of me. He asks me, "When can I see you again?" "Tomorrow," I say without hesitating. "Please." Evan smiles and I feel a part of me melting. "It's a date, then."The longer I stare at Anthony and he doesn't wake up, the more I panic. What if he's dead? What if I didn't just slam the vase in his head for him to pass out? I walk around him, trying to get a good look at his face. He doesn’t appear to be breathing, but maybe I’m just panicking way too much. So, I try not to panic and wait for him to stir, which he hasn’t done in the last ten minutes since I’ve been here standing over him. I decide that I’ve had enough. If he’s dead, then I’d rather know now than wait for longer. I kneel down, barely breathing as I reach out, and press two fingers against his neck, feeling for a pulse. My own heartbeat is so loud that it drowns out everything else. But then—a faint throb under my fingertips. He’s alive.I let out a sharp exhale of relief, though it’s short-lived. Slowly, his eyes flutter open, a groggy confusion clouding his gaze as he begins to stir and come to his senses. For a moment, he looks like he doesn’t recognize me, his gaze unfocused
Evan’s POV The road stretches out in front of me, winding and dark. My knuckles are white on the steering wheel, but I can’t let myself loosen my grip—not until I have him back. The text from her still sits on the screen beside me, her message short and mocking. It’s an address, nothing more, like a command.I’m not entirely sure of what to expect from this. Is she mocking me? Did she believe me when I said that I wanted to be with her?I know her well enough, since we’ve been together for quite some time. She wants me to come crawling. To say I was wrong, that I never should’ve left her. She thinks she has that kind of power over me, and I’ll let her believe it. I’ll say whatever she needs to hear, promise her the world if that’s what it takes to get my son back. I don’t care what I have to do. I’ll do whatever is necessary. I’ll be selfless for once. My stomach twists at the thought, a bitterness that feels like swallowing nails, but there’s no other way.I turn off the main roa
Evan’s POVI call Phillippa, and she doesn’t answer the phone. It’s not off, so she’s probably staring at her phone and smiling to herself as she watches her screen light up with my name flashing across it. “Bitch,” I curse before groaning in frustration. Each passing second deepens the knots in my stomach. Victor’s gone, and every instinct in my body screams to find him, to bring him back where he belongs. I didn’t even think that I had it in me to feel so much paternal instinct. I barely know him, yet my despair would’ve been the same even if I’d raised him his whole life. I’ve lost count of the calls I’ve made by now, and I still have no answers. Even some of the men who once were on my side won’t answer the phone. Then again, they were Montgomery contacts, not mine. Every lead has crumbled, and I’m left staring at the emptiness of my own mistakes.I’m fucked, through and through. I should be leaving the city by now if I have any hopes of escaping the bullshit investigation tha
I shove Anthony off of me with all my strength, and even that doesn’t feel enough to completely shake his touch off. It seems this terrible night is determined not to end. It’s like a never-ending nightmare. A surge of disgust and anger rips through me. I can’t believe he’s done this. That he would try to kiss me. I’ve always seen him as a father figure, so this really messes with me more than words can say. He stumbles back, his eyes widening with shock, but his shocked expression quickly changes into a bitter scowl. "Milena," he says, his voice low and edged with that same twisted need he’s tried to rationalize as love only a few moments ago. “You don’t understand. Everything I’ve done... I did for you. I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again until you understand. Until it sinks into your thick skull!”“For me?” I hiss, my voice shaking with disbelief and rage. “You murdered Thomas. You tortured Evan. And now you think you can stand here and—what? Kiss me? Confess some sick
Sitting alone in my apartment while Evan goes hunting for our son is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. The silence in the apartment is almost unbearable, pressing down on me with a weight I can't carry. I sit on the edge of the sofa, staring blankly at the door, waiting for it to open, and for Evan to walk into the apartment with Victor safe in his arms. The ache in my chest is relentless; a mixture of fear and guilt and helplessness that threatens to consume me.It’s the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. This despair is unlike any other. There’s no pain worse than having my son taken away from me by some lunatic with the worst of intentions. I’d been a fool to leave him by myself. I was irresponsible. If anything happens to Victor, I’ll blame myself forever. I’ll never get over it. Not ever. Phillippa took him—our son, my sweet Victor. It’s hard to even wrap my mind around the reality of it, that she would go so far, that she would hurt Evan and me by taking the one th
Evan’s POVThe taxi stops outside Leo’s apartment building, and she pays the nosy asshole before we step outside. Leo opens the door and exits the car quickly. She’s moving fast, her body almost vibrating with energy. She’s probably in shock, maybe in pain after everything that’s happened, but right now, she’s got one focus, and that’s Victor. I don’t mind it. At least one of us should get there fast and make sure that that fuck isn’t there, hurting him. I’ve promised her that I have a place where I can put her and Vic for a while, at least just until she can get to the bottom of this. I’d follow her up the stairs, but I know that I’m not going to be able to make it. I watch her disappear inside the building for a moment, feeling that pull again, that sense of her slipping through my fingers, just like she did once before. But I don’t have time to think about that now. But this is different. Now, we have a sort of understanding with each other. She’s not going to run away. Where wo
After a few minutes of messing with the chains, I finally figure out how to release him. Evan lands on the ground with a thud, and groans in pain as a result. I make my way to his side, wanting to touch him to help him stand up, but then stopping myself. These conflicting emotions will be the end of me. I stare at him as he tries to catch his breath, and for a moment, I feel sorry for him. His eyes meet mine, and within them, I see the same amount of sadness that I feel, but his is blended with disbelief. “You shouldn’t have come,” he says before coughing weakly. “You shouldn’t be here. I’m not...worth it.”His words catch me off guard. “What?”“I deserve what’s being done to me,” he then says before his eyes study my face. His body is shaking, and I’m not sure why. “I’m just glad to know that you’re alright.”I grit my teeth. “That’s not your decision to make, Evan. I’m the one who gets to decide what I do, not you.”He turns on his side, and then peels his shirt from his body, sh
“Why would I tell you anything regarding that?” Anthony says to him in the most cruel voice imaginable. I’ve never heard him use this voice on anyone before. I barely even recognize it. Why has he been keeping Evan here? So, he knew where he was this whole time?I have a terrible feeling in my gut. “I just want to know that she’s safe,” Evan rasps. This is followed by a dull sound, like someone punching a wall of meat, and Evan groans in pain. I cover my mouth with my hand. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Why would Anthony do this? Out of all the things he could do, why? Why keep Evan prisoner? He’s clearly hurting him. I came here thinking that I would find a clue concerning whether he killed Thomas or not, but instead, I find this. And there’s no satisfaction in this for me. This is something I never expected from Anthony. I know he hates Evan, but to go to this extent. I almost feel ashamed of my feelings. It’s not like I’m saying this because I care about Evan—he has ruine
“…right, Leo?”I turn my attention back to Anthony, and ask him, “Sorry, what?”Anthony is standing by the window of the living room, eyeing me strangely. He then says, “Are you okay, Leo? Is there something in your mind? You’ve been distracted all day.”“No, I’m fine,” I claim, even though it’s a blatant lie. “Don’t worry about it.”I have to admit that I haven’t been fine since I found that sweater. My spirit is restless, and I have to find out what the hell is going on here. Anthony is hiding things from me. It’s easier to notice this when I’m paying attention, and I can tell the huge difference between his normal state and now. I’m just horrified. The sun behind him is setting, and the fading light casting long shadows across my apartment. I’m sitting on the couch, trying to seem relaxed, but there’s a tightness in my chest that won’t go away. There are times when I think that my suspicions are nonsensical, and that I should just ask him what the sweater was about outright inste
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