Emily's POVThis was already the worst honeymoon ever, but somehow, life just kept finding new ways to make it worse.I sat on the stupid boat, arms crossed, staring out at the ocean while Cole lounged beside me like he didn’t have a single care in the world. The tour guide was going on and on about some historical nonsense, but I wasn’t listening. I didn’t care. The only reason I was here was because Cole’s father had booked the damn thing, and backing out would’ve given him more reasons to be an insufferable control freak.Cole shifted, stretching out his legs like he owned the place. “You look thrilled,” he muttered, not even glancing at me.“Wow. It only took you thirty minutes to notice?” I shot back, arms still crossed.He smirked. “What? You don’t like the ocean?”“I don’t like being stuck on a boat with you.”His smirk widened like he found that funny. “Right back at you, sweetheart.”I rolled my eyes and turned away, watching the water. The sky had been bright when we got on,
Cole's POV.Hours later…The hotel room felt suffocating, despite the air conditioning running at full blast. The silence between Emily and me was deafening, but that didn't stop the tension from rising. I was sitting in the chair, a stylist working on my hair, while Emily sat across the room, her own stylist carefully applying makeup to her face. I stole a glance at her through the mirror. She was holding her head high, eyes narrowed, looking irritated as the makeup artist tilted her chin up, smoothing her skin with expert hands.Good. I liked seeing her like this. Irritated. Frustrated. It was the only thing that made this whole mess worth it.I couldn’t resist. A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips as I watched her, knowing exactly how to push her buttons.“You might want to tell them to work a little harder,” I said, breaking the silence. “It’s going to take a miracle to make you look like a loving wife.”She glared at me through the mirror, her lips curling into a tight, condes
Cole's POV.I could feel the nerves creeping up, even though I was doing everything in my power to act like I was fine. The situation had me on edge as the PR team ushered us to the waiting cars. The cameras would be rolling soon. The journalists would be eager, asking about our “fast” romance, how we managed to fall in love and marry in such a short time. The bullshit we'd have to sell tonight would be the final act in this ridiculous drama.Emily was standing beside me, her arms crossed, giving off the vibe that she was barely holding it together. Her lips were pressed into a tight line, the kind of line I’d seen a hundred times when she was pretending to be happy. If she only knew how little I cared about her discomfort. We both had a job to do, and I was about to make sure she remembered hers.I could tell she was putting on the perfect mask though. Her makeup was flawless, every inch of her looked like she was ready for a magazine cover, and I hated that she could pull it off s
Emily’s POV.The second the elevator doors shut, I felt the walls closing in. Not because of the tight space…but because of him. Cole Greyson. The one man I never wanted to be alone with.I folded my arms, letting out a sharp breath. “Perfect. Just perfect.”Cole leaned against the wall, adjusting his cufflinks like he hadn’t just ruined my entire night. “You’re welcome.”My head snapped toward him. “Excuse me?”“You said ‘perfect.’ I assumed you were thanking me.” His smirk was lazy, smug, infuriating.My hands curled into fists. “You seriously have zero self-awareness.”His eyes flicked toward me, cool and disinterested. “And you have zero gratitude.”A bitter laugh left my lips. “Gratitude? For what? For having to fake a marriage with the one person I hate most in this world? Yeah, thanks a lot, Cole.”He shrugged. “You didn’t have to say yes.”I stepped closer, fire burning through my veins. “You think I wanted this?”He tilted his head. “No. But you agreed. That’s on you.”I wan
Cole’s POV"Emily."No response.I shook her slightly, my heart hammering."Emily, wake up. Come on."Still nothing.Her breathing was shallow, her skin too warm. The terror, the shock…it had all been too much for her."Damn it," I muttered, running a hand through my hair.The elevator was still moving up, but I barely noticed. All I could see was Emily, lying there, her face pale, her lips slightly parted.For years, I told myself I didn’t care about her. That what happened between us was in the past. But seeing her like this? Completely defenseless?It did something to me.I clenched my jaw, reaching forward. Without thinking, I slid my arms under her and lifted her against my chest.She was too still. Too quiet."Just hold on, okay?" I muttered under my breath.The elevator dinged. The doors slid open.And suddenly, we were met with chaos.A cluster of hotel staff and security stood outside, their faces twisted in panic. Some gasped. Others immediately rushed forward."Sir! Mr. Gre
Emily's POV.A groan slipped out before I could stop it. My head felt like it had been used as a punching bag, and my body ached in places I didn’t even know could ache. My throat was dry, my limbs stiff, and an odd tingling sensation ran through my arms.I blinked against the harsh sunlight streaming through the large windows, trying to remember where the hell I was. My vision blurred for a moment, then cleared just enough to make out the luxurious hotel room…the honeymoon suite, to be exact.And then I saw him.Cole.Sitting in a chair near the bed, legs stretched out lazily, arms crossed over his chest, watching me like he had all the time in the world. His expression was unreadable, but there was something about the way his lips curled at the corners, like he was amused.My stomach twisted. Why was he here?"You’ve got to be kidding me," I muttered, squeezing my eyes shut as if I could make him disappear by sheer willpower."Good morning to you too, sweetheart." His voice was deep
Emily's POV.Cole, to his credit, didn’t react immediately. He stood by the window, shoulders tensing just slightly, before he turned around with the calmness of a man who had dealt with this kind of chaos before.He exhaled through his nose, then walked toward Vanessa, completely unbothered. "It’s fine," he said, addressing the staff. "You can go.""But, sir, we tried to stop her…""I said it’s fine," Cole repeated, giving them a pointed look.The staff exchanged hesitant glances before bowing slightly and retreating out of the room, closing the door behind them.Now, it was just the three of us.Vanessa looked like she was about to explode. Her hands were shaking, her breaths coming in short gasps, and her perfectly manicured nails dug into her palms.Cole reached for her, his voice lowering. "Vanessa, calm down."She smacked his hand away. "Don’t you dare tell me to calm down!" Her voice cracked with emotion. "Do you have any idea how worried I was?!"Cole sighed and ran a hand th
Emily's POV.The car ride was silent except for the soft hum of the engine. I stared out the window, watching the city come alive under the morning sun. Skyscrapers, pedestrians, coffee shops, life was moving forward, and so was I.Cole and his pathetic little girlfriend were behind me now, exactly where they belonged.I leaned back against the seat, rubbing my temple. My dress still clung to my body, wrinkled and ruined from last night. The expensive fabric felt suffocating. My makeup…God, I didn’t even want to look at my face. I probably looked like something out of a horror movie.“Straight home, Miss Hart?” my driver, Leo, asked from the front seat.I thought about it. Home. What was that even supposed to mean? The mansion I grew up in? The penthouse I bought to escape that mansion? Or the prison of a hotel Cole trapped me in?“No,” I said. “Take me to the Ritz. I need a suite.”Leo nodded, no questions asked. That’s why I liked him. He did his job without treating me like a fragi
Smith’s POVThe Hart Enterprise 50th Anniversary Gala was perfect.Every inch of the ballroom screamed success. The walls, lined with art and gold accents, reflected the soft shimmer of crystal chandeliers. The air smelled faintly of expensive perfume and fresh flowers, the latter arranged in massive, white-topped vases at every corner. I surveyed it all…took it in from the balcony before stepping down to join the crowd below.It was a night that I had meticulously planned. Years of hard work, of seeing opportunities and risks like no one else, and now, it all led here. Every seat in the room was occupied. Every person invited was a mover, a shaker, an influencer. The type of people who understood what it meant to be at the top.I adjusted the cuffs of my black tuxedo…custom-made, obviously. Not a thread out of place. My watch gleamed under the soft lighting as I looked out at the sea of faces below. The night was unfolding as I had imagined. Every detail was perfect. Every piece in p
Stevie-Lou’s POVThree days.It had been three days since we lowered my father into the ground.Three days since I stood beside his casket, dressed in black, staring down at the man who raised me…silent and still beneath a polished wooden lid. Three days of hearing strangers murmur things like “He was a good man” and “So sorry for your loss,” as if their condolences could glue together the splintered mess inside my chest.They couldn’t. Nothing could.The grief was a living thing. It clung to me like a second skin, heavy and suffocating, curling around my lungs every time I tried to breathe. I sat curled up on the sagging couch in my apartment, wrapped in my father’s old flannel shirt, my knees tucked under me like a scared little girl. A single candle burned on the coffee table. Sandalwood…his favorite scent. The flame danced, throwing shadows against the walls, soft and flickering. It was the only light I could stand. The overhead bulbs were too harsh, too alive.Jeremy, my boyfrien
Smith's POV.I leaned back in my chair slowly, the leather squeaking. I didn’t speak. Just stared at James.His hands were twitchy. Fidgety. Like he didn’t know what to do with them."Is that all?" I finally asked.He blinked. Like he expected me to say something else. Anything else."Yes, sir. I just thought... you should know."I scoffed. "Why?"He flinched. "Well, he worked here since before you were born.""Exactly," I said, cutting him off. "Which means he had years to prepare. Retirement fund. Family. Friends. A damn GoFundMe if he wanted."James didn’t speak."You think it was my job to save him?" I asked, eyes narrowing.He shook his head quickly. "No, sir. Of course not.""Good. Because it wasn’t. This isn’t a charity."The silence in the room tightened. James looked at the floor."He was desperate," he mumbled.I stood up slowly. Walked around the desk until I was a few steps from him."Let me ask you something, James. If I give 1.3 million to a dying man with a bad heart, h
Smith POV.I was 27. Young. Cold. Successful. Ruthless.CEO of the Hart Enterprise.People feared me. And that was fine. Fear keeps people in check. I didn’t have time for emotions or second chances. Not in this world. Not in business. One mistake could bring it all crashing down.I sat behind my office desk…black, clean…just like everything else in my life. The skyline of New York stood outside my glass window. Everyone out there had a dream. I was already living mine. But it didn’t come easy.I wasn’t even supposed to be here. I wasn’t meant to exist.My father, Richard Hart, never wanted me. He wasn’t married when he met my mother, Lena. His first wife…Emily’s mother…had already left him. Walked away. No cheating involved. That chapter had ended.Eight years later, he met my mother. It was just a one-night stand. Nothing more. A stupid decision. When she found out she was pregnant and told him, he turned into a monster.He tortured her. Pressured her. Told her to get rid of me.But
Married To The Billionaire I Hate Part 2Synopsis:Stevie-Lou Parker’s world shattered the day her father, a loyal employee of Smith Hart, died after being denied a loan for his treatment. Smith Hart, the ruthless billionaire, refused to help, and her father paid the price. Consumed with rage, Stevie-Lou swore revenge on the man who caused her family’s downfall.To get close to him, Stevie-Lou went undercover, hiding her true identity. She lied about her name and used a disguise so Smith would never suspect she was the daughter of the man whose death he had caused. Using her beauty and talent as a skilled dancer, Stevie-Lou captivated Smith with a performance that left him wanting more. He fell in love, believing she was just another woman to add to his collection.But for Stevie-Lou, this was never about love…it was about revenge. She married him, planning to strip him of everything he held dear: his wealth, his power, his empire. What Smith didn’t know was that Stevie-Lou wasn’t alo
Emily's POV.Six years later.I couldn't believe how much everything had changedm..and how much I had changed. I used to be a woman who could take on anything with a smile, fighting tooth and nail for what I wanted, getting my way, keeping my guard up. Now, I was a wife, a mother to two wild kids who were way too much like me for comfort, and I was somehow still trying to find the balance. Cole and I had two little monsters. I meant that in the most loving way, of course. A five-year-old girl who thought she knew everything, and a three-year-old boy who was already calm enough to be mistaken for a mini version of his father.I looked over at Mia, our daughter, as she flipped through her book on the couch, muttering to herself. “Mom, you know you can’t just say things like that. The truth is like…” She paused, squinting up at me, “...it’s like a key. It opens doors. And if you don’t have the key, well, you’re locked out. Simple logic. Honestly.”I blinked, my fork halfway to my mouth
Emily's POV.I could feel the tightness in my chest as I walked into the hospital room. The usual weird smell of the hospital hit me instantly, but it didn’t matter. My feet were heavy, like each step took more out of me than it should. I didn’t know what I expected walking in here, but seeing him like this…injured, bruised, bandaged…was almost too much.Cole was sitting upright in the bed, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as he adjusted the position of the IV that was attached to his arm. His face, though familiar, looked a little different. His skin was pale, almost sickly, and his hair was messy, falling loosely across his forehead. His eyes…those eyes that could melt anyone with a single glance…were narrowed at the screen in front of him. His left hand was holding a small tablet, and I saw the footage of the trial. It was the video of what happened in court …Vanessa, shackled, dragged in like she was nothing. I saw the shot of her standing in the courtroom, struggling to keep
Vanessa's POV.They brought me in through the back. Shackled. Dressed in orange. I could feel every damn eye in that courtroom the moment the doors opened.Phones were out. Cameras. People whispering. Judging. Hating.I used to walk through halls with power in my step, people hanging onto my words, afraid to cross me. Now, the guards shoved me forward like I was nothing. Like I wasn’t the Vanessa Monroe.The courtroom was colder than I remembered. The lights too bright. Too many people. Too many eyes. My throat was dry, and not a soul here gave a damn.The judge didn’t look up as I was led to the defendant’s table. He was flipping through a file…my file…thicker than a Bible.I sat. Hands cuffed. Ankles chained. Heart racing. Face burning.And then I saw her.Emily.Sitting there in the front row like she owned the damn place. Like she wasn’t two months pregnant with the child I tried to erase along with her.Her head was high. Shoulders back. Lips painted blood red. Her arms crossed l
Emily's POV.Hours passed. Again.The ICU lights didn’t dim. Nurses kept coming in and out. Adjusting tubes. Checking monitors. Writing things down without saying a word to me. One of them offered me a blanket. Another brought me water I didn’t touch. I couldn’t drink. Couldn’t eat. My stomach was twisted into a hundred knots.Cole hadn’t moved.Not even a twitch.I kept waiting for something. A flick of his fingers. A twitch of an eyelid. A miracle.But the machines kept beeping the same way. Monotonous. Cold. Consistent.My fingers stayed laced with his. Even though he couldn’t squeeze back.The door creaked open again.Footsteps. Not rushed. Not hesitant. Just... steady.I turned, and there she was.Lena.Smith's mom.She looked like she’d driven straight from hell to get here. Hair in a bun that had long since given up. Dark circles under her eyes. Clothes wrinkled, boots dusty. Her eyes locked on me, then flicked to Cole. Her jaw clenched."Is he…?" she didn’t finish the question