"Y-you slapped me…" The words come out broken as the pain and disbelief set in. Deric actually hit me. The man who went against the whole world to defend me just slapped me, right in front of everyone. "I thank the heavens that I don’t remember a vicious woman like you!" He sneers. •°•°•°•°•° An accident turned Arella’s life upside down. After two years in a coma, she wakes up to find her husband with another woman and the life she knew completely changed. In her darkest moment, Arella meets Lincoln, a powerful billionaire whose touch awakens her in ways she never expected. One night of raw passion stirs desires neither can ignore, leaving Arella torn between the past she lost and the future he offers. As her past and future collide, Arella must decide: hold on to what’s lost or take a chance on a new life and love. But when her past comes rushing back, will she make the right choice?
View More[Arella]"Help! Let me out of here! I've been kidnapped! Help!"I roll my eyes, stepping into the room where Vivian’s been locked up for the past two days. She hasn’t been much use, barely stirring after I beat her up—guess I went too hard. But that’s not my problem. The woman had it coming.I take the keys from Zach’s hand, turn them in, and push open the door with force, the impact sending Vivian stumbling to the floor.Her terrified eyes trail up my blazer, finally meeting mine. They widen in shock.“Y-You? How… So, I wasn’t dreaming?”I chuckle lightly, unable to hide the satisfaction in my voice.“You sure as hell weren’t.”Vivian clutches her head, her face twisted in confusion and fear as she screams, “Help! Help! This crazy woman kidnapped me!”I smirk, rolling my shoulders back.“The only crazy person here is you, Vivian.”She yelps in terror, scrambling to her feet. “Scream as loud as you want. This penthouse is soundproof.”Her face pales as the reality sinks in. She looks
[Lincoln ]My stomach growls, a reminder that I haven’t eaten much in the past few days, but it’s hard to enjoy food when everything feels off. I carry my plate of burnt toast from the kitchen into the small, dimly lit living room where I’ve been summoned for breakfast. The space feels cramped, its walls a dull beige that only adds to the weight in the air. Dan and Chloe are already seated, exchanging hushed words.“Good morning, baby,” Chloe says, offering me a smile as I draw nearer, the kind of smile that’s meant to soothe but only makes the pit in my stomach grow heavier. I can't find it in me to return it, so I just nod at both of them, my voice flat as I mutter a stiff, “Good morning.”Dan’s eyes are sharp on me, studying me in a way that’s too knowing, too calculating. I wonder if he can see the change in me, the shift in the way I’ve been acting since I overheard that conversation between them a week ago. It’s like something inside me cracked open, and I can’t unhear what I he
Hey my lovely readers!💖 I know it’s been a little quiet around here, but I’m back! 😅 I’m so sorry for the break, but starting tomorrow, daily updates are officially back in action! Thank you for your patience and all your love—you're the reason I keep going! I can't wait to dive back into the story with all of you. See you tomorrow! 😉✨
[Arella]Vivian ran like the devil himself was on her heels.Her bare feet slapped against the filthy concrete, the sharp sting of debris cutting into her skin. The air was thick with the scent of rotting dough and mildew, the remnants of a bakery long abandoned, its glory days buried under dust and decay. Her breath came in ragged gasps, each one hitching in her throat as she weaved through the narrow corridors, her frantic movements sending old flour sacks tumbling to the ground.She was fast, I’d give her that. Desperation had a way of making people move like cornered rats, a blend of terror and pure survival instinct. But I wasn’t about to let her scurry away. Not this time.I chased after her, vaulting over overturned crates, my boots thudding heavily against the grimy floor. My pulse thundered in my ears, my lungs burning with exertion, but the fire only fueled me. Every step I took, every inch I gained, I thought about what this woman had done to me seven months ago.Seven. Fuc
[Arella]Two days later, we finally located the only bakery in Backwater Alley.True to the city’s name, the place was utterly demented. The snarls and sneers we received from passersby sent a chill slithering down my spine, despite the heavy security flanking me. It wasn’t just the people that made this place hell—it was everything. The very air felt wrong, thick with the scent of rot and dampness, like misery had been ground into the pavement for generations. The streets reeked of filth and desperation, a choking combination of decay and stale piss, and even with the promise of protection, a thick wave of unease clung to my skin like a second layer.Deric, on the other hand, was visibly cowering, his head ducked so low I half-expected him to burrow into the ground. He flinched at every sound, his breath coming in shallow gasps as we passed through each ‘checkpoint’—clusters of men loitering with sharp eyes and even sharper knives, their silent appraisal as damning as a blade against
[Arella] Deric leads us to a restaurant that's just as rundown as that bar, but at least the air inside isn't nauseating. The dim lighting does little to hide the grime-streaked walls, and the wooden chairs creak ominously as we settle down. The stench of stale grease lingers in the air, but it’s a small mercy compared to the overwhelming stench of alcohol from before.I speak first, my voice sharp. "Where have you been? What are you doing all the way in Chicago?"He clears his throat, his eyes locked onto mine with an emotion I can't quite place—adoration, maybe? Like he can't believe I'm sitting right in front of him. That only makes my patience thinner."You're going to have to start talking, Deric, because trust me, I have other ways to make you talk.""Water... please," he croaks out, his voice dry and weak. Zach signals to one of his men, never leaving my side for a single second. The moment the bottle is placed in front of him, Deric chugs it down like a man starved, gulping i
[Arella]We pass through the back, and the stench immediately assaults my senses—an overwhelming mix of stale alcohol, damp wood, and rotting garbage. Dirty bottles are strewn everywhere, some stacked haphazardly in corners, others being washed with a half-hearted effort. The entire place reeks of neglect. Dust clings to every surface, thick enough that I can practically taste it in the air. A few workers loiter around, loading crates onto a rusty truck that looks like it's one pothole away from falling apart.The sight of it all makes my skin crawl. My fingers twitch at my sides, an instinctive reaction to the unease curling in my stomach. This place feels wrong. Like a trap waiting to be sprung.A man with decayed teeth—yellowed and jagged, a testament to years of neglect—flashes me a grin as we draw closer. The smile is anything but friendly; it's lecherous, the kind that makes my skin prickle in revulsion. "Who's this fine little birdie, Isla?" His eyes drag over me from head to t
[Arella]“How may I help you?" The bartender slurs his words, his bleary eyes raking over me. So much for being insecure—he doesn’t even attempt to hide his once-over. His gaze lingers too long, his lips quirking up like he’s amused by something. But then, something shifts. He must have noticed Zach’s piercing gaze because he suddenly straightens, feigning a sense of professionalism, shoulders squaring as he averts his gaze. My lips twitch in amusement, but I don’t let it show too much."I'm looking for the owner of this number." I thrust a crumpled piece of paper into his hand, unwilling to risk handing over my phone. My fingers tighten slightly as I pull back, watching his face carefully. His brows furrow as he glances at it, then at me, before letting out a dry chuckle."You're looking for the owner of this number... in a bar?" He shoots me an incredulous look, the kind that makes me feel every bit as ridiculous as I probably seem right now.I nod anyway, knowing full well how absu
[Arella]The private jet hummed softly beneath my feet as I approached, Zach and his men flanking me on either side like silent sentinels. My heart hammered a little harder than usual, but I ignored it, my focus locked on the mission ahead. I knew I should probably wait for Benson and Jordan to return from Florida—playing it safe would be the smart thing to do. But what if this lead went cold? What if this person changed their mind?The IP address traced back to a woman’s phone—a bartender. She ran a shady little dive bar, the kind of place where secrets slipped out between shots of cheap whiskey and whispered conversations in the dark. Maybe she’d seen Lincoln with Lisa or Thompson? Maybe she knew something crucial? Or maybe… something about that desperate message didn’t sit right. If she was just giving me information, why did it feel like a cry for help?I’d responded, asking for a time to meet. No response. Nothing. Just silence.I exhaled sharply, shoving those nagging doubts asi
[Arella] "Doctor, her vitals are coming around—come quick!" Everything around me feels hazy, like I’m trapped underwater. Urgh, why is there so much noise? My limbs are heavy and sore, my mouth unbearably dry. My mind feels foggy and I try to open my eyes, but my lids won’t obey—just like the rest of my body. What happened to me? The last thing I remember was…the truck slamming into our car! A gasp escapes my mouth, raw and faint, as my eyes peel open wide. “Deric!” My voice sounds bruised, almost alien, as if I haven't used it in years. “Calm down, Mrs. Smith. You’ll be fine,” a voice reassures me, calm and gentle, but my panic refuses to settle. A quick sting hits my arm, and a wave of sleepiness washes over me, pulling me back into darkness. •°•°•°•°•°•°•° “What do you mean I’ve been in a coma for two years?!” My voice is still hoarse, strange and rough to my own ears. Looking around, my head spins as I try to process his words. “This is the situation, Mrs Smi...
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