Six months." That’s all he offered her. “I can only help you for six months. After that, I have to go back to my world," Victor said, his dark eyes piercing as he spoke. There was something about this man that sent chills down her spine, and yet, that same thing pulled her to him. Sophia Martins, a sheltered 23 year old, had spent six years living a lie. Forced into marriage with her childhood crush, John Smith, she believed it was the only way to keep a fraction of her late father’s company. But when she learns the truth,that the company had always been hers,she files for divorce, determined to take back what was stolen from her. Her plans for freedom, however, take a deadly turn when John sends a hitman after her. Just as her life hangs by a thread, a mysterious and devastatingly handsome stranger intervenes, saving her and offering to be her bodyguard,but only for six months. As the days unfold, Sophia finds herself irresistibly drawn to him, only to discover that William, her charming protector, is not who he claims to be. He is Victor Falcone, the ruthless Mafia Don feared by all. As she’s thrust into his dangerous world of power and violence, her questions multiply. Why did he lie to her? Why had he been protecting her? Will their love be able to withstand the truth, or will Victor’s reality tear them apart?
Lihat lebih banyakSophia’s Point of View: I tossed and turned all night. Despite the room’s complete renovation, I couldn't sleep. For the first time since the incident, the nightmares returned—vivid, relentless, and cruelly familiar. I was back on that cold bench, chains biting into my wrists. The strange man loomed over me, his shadow stretching across the dimly lit room. Beside him stood Ava and John, their laughter slicing through the suffocating silence, their eyes gleaming with twisted delight at my helplessness. And then there was William—my hero. He appeared, just like before, ready to save me. But just as his hand reached for mine, a deafening gunshot tore through the air. I watched, horror twisting in my gut, as he crumpled to the ground. His body lay still, lifeless. And that was when I felt the most fear—not when I was tied up, not even when I thought I was going to die. It was the sight of William’s body on the floor that truly broke me. I woke up gasping, sweat clinging to my
John's point of view: "This bitch." I stared at her, watching as she bossed everyone around. This was the same little Sophia who used to worship the ground I walked on, and now she had the guts to talk back to me? I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my anger in check, but it was damn near impossible. Every fiber of my being screamed at me to put her back in her place. She was beneath me, and it didn’t matter if her father had all the money in the world—or if she did now. "Well, you should get to cleaning. From the look of it, you might have to spend the whole day," she said with a smirk, mocking me. I shot her a glare before turning my attention to the room. My stomach twisted. 'How the hell did anyone live here?' It looked more like a closet than a room. I stepped inside, forced to duck my head to get through the doorway. Sophia was tall. how could she even fit in here for so long. The place was disgusting, the kind of space even rats would turn their noses up at. I looked ar
Sophia's point of view; "Follow me. I'll show you to your rooms," I instructed, gesturing for John to get to his feet. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before rising. Rose followed close behind as I led them down the hall. The room I chose for John was one I knew all too well. My old room. The one Maxwell Smith had forced me to stay in. It was tiny, damp, and wedged directly under the staircase. I had spent countless nights staring at the low ceiling, my body aching from exhaustion, yet unable to sleep because of the constant creaking above me—the heavy stomping of feet, reminding me of my place beneath them. The only nights I ever found peace were when Maxwell was away. Rose would let me sneak into her room, where the mattress was soft, and the silence didn't suffocate me. "Here," I said, pushing the door open. A gust of dust rushed out, thick and stale, forcing all of us to cough. The air inside reeked of mildew, and the mold that had once been a small patch on the w
Was I not his type? I wondered, my mind racing as I stared at William. Was he even into women? I shook off the thought. Why was I always drawn to men who didn’t find me attractive? First John, now William. 'Snap out of it,' I told myself, pushing the thoughts away. "I’ll ask Grace to clean the room for you. While she does that, you can have your men set up the cameras," I instructed, my voice firm. William had suggested installing cameras throughout the house, insisting it was the best way to protect me. "Everywhere except the room I’ll be staying in," I added. "And I want full access to the footage." I didn’t wait for his reply before turning away, my steps carrying me toward the master bedroom. The moment I stepped inside, a chill crawled up my spine. My breath caught in my throat. The room looked exactly like the one John and I had shared. The same furniture. The exact same curtains. The wallpaper. Even that hideous painting of a boat—hung in the same spot where a c
Sophia's Point of View: I watched as John and his family carried their boxes out of the house, yet the satisfaction I had expected to feel never came. My gaze drifted to Rose, and a hint of sadness tightened my chest. After my mother’s death, she had been like a mother to me. And just like me, she had suffered under the Smiths’ cruelty. "Wait!" I called out, suddenly uneasy at the thought of Rose being out on the streets. I folded my arms over my chest, forcing indifference into my tone. "I might consider letting you all stay in the guest quarters—if you beg." John turned, his face twisting with disdain. "Beg you?" he spat. "Never." His voice dripped with pride. I glanced briefly at Rose. She was looking at Maxwell as though hoping he would say something, but he didn't, and she stayed quiet. She was always a loyal wife. "Suit yourself," I said with a shrug, watching them leave. I knew John hated handling cash—so much so that they probably didn’t have enough on them to even p
Third person narrative; "I'm sorry, sir, but your card has been declined," the receptionist said, handing the card back to John. John's eyes narrowed as he snatched it from her, flipping it over as if staring at it long enough would change the outcome. With a sharp inhale, he shoved it back into his wallet and turned to his father, his voice laced with barely contained fury. "She cleaned us out." Sophia had done more than freeze their official accounts—somehow, she had drained every last cent from their personal ones too. "That bitch," Maxwell Smith growled, rubbing his temples before turning to his wife, Rose, who stood stiffly in the corner, guarding their hastily packed boxes like a soldier protecting the remnants of a fallen empire. "Do you have any money?" he barked, extending a hand toward her as if the mere act of reaching out would summon cash into his palm. Rose scoffed, shaking her head. "Thirty years, Maxwell. Thirty years, and you've never given me a single cent
Note this chapter is Written in Third person narrative for clarity;Two Days Later"Dad, what the hell is going on?" John yelled as he stormed into the family house, slamming the door behind him. His face was flushed with anger, his breathing ragged. Just minutes ago, he'd been thrown out of his house by police officers, his accounts frozen without warning. Maxwell, who had been calmly eating at the dining table, lifted his head, a frown forming on his face. Rose Smith, John's mother, looked up from her tea, concern flickering in her eyes. "What is it, dear?" she asked. John didn’t bother answering her. Instead, he strode over and threw a stack of court documents onto the table. "I just got these," he snapped. "It says S.M. is investigating me, and everything I own is going to be seized!" Maxwell’s frown deepened as he grabbed the papers, flipping through them hastily. His expression darkened. "What?!" he exploded, pushing back his chair. The sound of it scraping against the
Sophia's point of view; "I agree with Arnold. We never should have gone along with this," James said dismissively. "It’s ridiculous to hand over the company to someone just because they landed one deal when John and Maxwell have secured several." My breath hitched. I stared at them, shocked and disappointed, anger bubbling beneath my skin as I glared at both men. I had expected resistance, but the sheer hypocrisy stung. They had only agreed to this because they were certain John would win. Now that the outcome wasn’t in their favor, they wanted to rewrite the rules. My hands curled into fists beneath the table. I forced myself to take a deep, steadying breath, but the frustration still tightened around my chest. Then, I felt William lean in. His voice was low, firm. “Ask them to take a vote.” I hesitated, my heart pounding. “What?” I turned to him, searching his face. He looked completely sure of himself, as if he already knew how this would play out. "Are you sure?" I whis
The next day, I woke up with body aches. The impact of falling to the ground and nearly getting shot coursed through my body like a chill. As soon as I opened my eyes, I glanced at the time—just minutes past nine. The governor's Chief of Staff had promised to send the documents over today, and I didn’t want to miss anything. I struggled to my feet, rummaging through my belongings for my phone, but it was nowhere to be found. Panic set in as I tried to recall where I’d left it. Then it hit me—I must have dropped it while running for my life. Dragging myself to the bathroom, I freshened up, then picked out a dress from the collection of clothes William had gotten for me. I took a deep breath, feeling oddly more comfortable accepting favors from Victor—the dangerous billionaire—than from William, the bodyguard. After getting dressed, I stared at my reflection in the mirror, my mind racing. 'Do you even believe him? Can you trust him?' I questioned myself. William had been lying to
Sophia's Point of View "I could hear it." The sound of my husband pleasuring another woman—her loud, shameless moans and the rhythmic pounding of the bed against the floor. This wasn’t the first time, yet every time he did it, it felt like my heart was being ripped from my chest. "Ma'am!" Beatrice's voice jolted me out of my trance. I turned to her, dazed. "Your hands, ma’am, they’re burning!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with alarm. Only then did the pain register. "Ouch!" I winced, yanking my hands away from the flames. "Don’t worry, ma’am. I’ll handle this," Beatrice offered quickly, taking over at the stove. I nodded numbly and opened the first cabinet to retrieve a bandage for my hand. The pain was nothing compared to the ache inside me. When Beatrice finished, she handed me the tray. Breakfast for my husband and his mistress—a command he barked every morning without fail, brushing past me on his way to the bedroom. With a heavy heart, I took the tray and made my wa...
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