Emily.
7 years ago. The roar of the crowd sounded around the field, but I barely heard it. All I could focus on was him…Cole Grayson. He stood in the center of the field, the late afternoon sun had a golden halo over his dark hair. His movements were without effort, calculated, as he dodged past opposing players. The ball seemed like an extension of him, and every time he scored, the crowd erupted in cheerslike a storm. From my spot on the bleachers, tucked away in the furthest corner, I watched through the safety of my thick-rimmed glasses. My cheeks burned, though I told myself it was just the sun. Who was I kidding? I was completely smitten. Damn. The cheerleaders screamed his name, waving banners with Cole scrawled in bold letters. Even the guys who pretended not to care shot him envious glances. Cole wasn’t just the star player; he was the star of the entire school. I sighed, hugging my knees. It had been four months since I joined Westbridge, and ever since that rainy day, he’d been on my mind. It wasn’t much…he’d just handed me an umbrella. I was stranded outside the library, soaking wet and fumbling with my books, when he walked up, calm and unreadable. He didn’t say much, just handed me his umbrella and walked away into the rain as if it were nothing. But to me? It was everything. I knew it was silly. Girls like me didn’t belong in the orbit of someone like Cole. He was untouchable, like a shooting star streaking across the sky while I sat on the ground wishing I could be closer. Still, I couldn’t stop staring. His smile when he scored, the way he high-fived his teammates…it was magnetic. A world I’d never belong to. “Emily, stop staring,” I muttered to myself, shifting uncomfortably on the bleachers. But my eyes betrayed me, glued to the field where he stood, shining brighter than anyone else. Did he even remember me? Probably not. To him, I was just some random girl with glasses and bad hair. The final whistle blew, and the crowd erupted in cheers. Cole’s team had won, of course. His teammates swarmed him, shouting and slapping his back. The cheerleaders screamed his name, waving their banners. Cole stood in the middle of it all, grinning that easy, heart-stopping grin of his. His hair was damp with sweat, his jersey clinging to him, and yet he looked like he’d stepped out of a glossy magazine. He waved at the crowd, soaking up their adoration like it was his birthright. As he left the field, girls swarmed him. Some held out water bottles, others just giggled and tried to catch his attention. He didn’t push them away; he leaned into it, laughing and tossing a few playful winks. My stomach twisted, but I couldn’t stop the ridiculous hope bubbling inside me. I adjusted my glasses, my heart hammering as I clutched the strap of my backpack. Cole had smiled at me before…not often, but enough to make my pulse race. I convinced myself it meant something. Maybe it was crazy, but I’d made up my mind. Today, I was going to tell him. What’s the worst that could happen? At least I’d know. I waited outside the locker room, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure anyone passing by could hear it. The hallway was quiet except for occasional laughter or footsteps, but my nerves made everything seem amplified. When the door finally opened, my breath hitched. Cole stepped out, still damp from his shower, his hair slightly tousled, droplets of water clinging to his neck. He wore a crisp white t-shirt and jeans, his effortless style making him look like he belonged in a fashion ad. A group of his friends followed, their laughter carefree as they shoved each other playfully. I clutched the strap of my backpack tighter and took a shaky step forward. My knees felt like jelly, and my palms were sweating, but I had to do this. “Hey… Cole,” I said, my voice trembling. He stopped mid-laugh and turned to look at me, his piercing blue eyes locking onto mine. “Hey,” he replied casually, his voice smooth, but there was a hint of curiosity in his tone. One of his friends nudged him, smirking. Cole exchanged a quick glance with them before turning his full attention to me, his brows slightly raised. “I—uh—I need to… talk to you. About something.” “Alright,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. He tilted his head, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Go ahead.” I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I stared up at him. He was so tall, so… magnetic. Everything about him screamed confidence, and it was overwhelming. My words jumbled in my head, my tongue suddenly refusing to cooperate. “It’s…it’s kind of private,” I stammered, glancing nervously at his friends, who were still standing nearby, clearly interested in the unfolding scene. Cole raised an eyebrow, the smirk growing a little. “Relax,” he said, his voice almost teasing. “Just say it.” His gaze was steady, and it felt like I was standing under a spotlight. My heart raced, and my throat felt dry. But this was it… my moment. I had to say it. I sucked in a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage I had. “I—I like you,” I blurted out, my words rushing out in a panicked jumble. I winced as soon as I said it, wishing I could disappear. “I mean, I’ve had feelings for you… for a while now. Ever since…” I trailed off, my voice faltering as I glanced down, too scared to meet his eyes. My hands twisted together in front of me as I kept going, my words tumbling out awkwardly. “I know it’s probably silly, but… you’re amazing, Cole. You’re kind, and talented, and—” I paused, finally glancing up. His expression made me falter. At first, he seemed stunned, his brows furrowing slightly as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. For one fleeting moment, I thought I saw something softer in his eyes. But then, his lips curled into a slow smirk, and the warmth in his gaze vanished. “Wait… what?” his tone was laced with utter disbelief when he asked. “I—I said I like you,” I repeated, with a trembling voice. And that was when it happened. His face twisted into pure amusement, and before I could brace myself, he threw his head back and laughed…a big, boisterous laugh that echoed through the hallway. It wasn’t just a chuckle or a polite laugh. It was the kind of laugh that made his friends snicker and glance at each other, and it felt like a sledgehammer against my chest. I froze, my breath hitching as I watched him. He clutched his sides, shaking his head like what I’d said was the funniest joke he’d ever heard. “You… you have feelings for me?” he repeated the question between laughs, his voice already filled with complete incredulity. My face burned as humiliation sank in, and my hands clenched into fists at my sides. I wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come. His laughter still continued, loud and cruel, and it felt like the world had stopped spinning, leaving me stranded and exposed.Emily's POV. My heart hammered in my chest as I watched Cole laugh. It wasn't a light chuckle or a half-hearted grin. No, this was the kind of laugh that made you feel like something deep inside you was being crushed into dust. His friends started laughing too, the sound of their mocking, high-pitched giggles echoing through the hallway. And then, even a few students nearby joined in. I could feel my face burn, my pulse pounding in my ears. I stood there, frozen, helpless, every ounce of courage I had drained in an instant. “Are you serious?” Cole asked, wiping tears from his eyes as he took a step toward me. He looked me up and down with the kind of scrutiny that made me want to crawl into a hole and hide forever. “You think you can just... tell me you like me? You think I’m going to be interested in some girl like you?” His voice was dripping with venom, each word cutting deeper than the last. I felt smaller and smaller, like the floor was swallowing me whole. He poked at my
Emily's POV 7 years later. Present. The moment I stepped out of the sleek black Rolls-Royce, a wave of flashing lights blinded me. The cameras clicked furiously, each one trying to capture the perfect shot. The air buzzed with the sound of reporters shouting my name, their questions tumbling over one another in a chaotic mess. “Miss Hart! Over here!” “Emily, are you planning to expand the company this year?” “Can we get a comment on your rise to success at such a young age?” I adjusted the lapel of my tailored cream pantsuit, my favorite pair of Louboutin heels clicking against the pavement as I strode forward. My face remained poised, composed—a faint smile playing on my lips as my bodyguards flanked me, creating a barrier between me and the overzealous crowd. I didn’t answer their questions. Not yet. I let the confidence radiate from me, my chin held high as I walked toward the entrance of the grand event hall. The paparazzi were relentless, their lenses tracking my
Cole's POV I leaned against the sleek black car parked outside the industrial event hall, watching the last of the guests trickle out. The evening had gone as expected, with handshakes and back-patting from the old guard, a few promising discussions about potential mergers, and, of course, the usual fawning admiration. Everyone wanted a piece of Cole Grayson. Everyone, that is, except Emily Hart. I shoved my hands into my pockets and let out a quiet chuckle, shaking my head. Emily Hart. She hadn’t just ignored my handshake…she’d downright dismissed me, as though I were some insignificant pest. No one had ever treated me like that, not in all my thirty years. “Too full of herself,” I muttered under my breath. “That’s what she is.” But there was something else about her, something that gnawed at the edges of my mind. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but she seemed familiar. The curve of her face, the fire in her eyes when she looked at me…it wasn’t just confidence. It was somethin
Emily's POV. The air in my father’s study was thick with tension, and my voice rose so high that I thought the walls might actually crack. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” I yelled, pacing back and forth across the hardwood floor, my heels clicking like gunfire. “You expect me to marry Cole Grayson? That arrogant, self-absorbed…” I stopped mid-rant, my chest heaving, and pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You can’t be serious!” My father, ever the picture of calmness, sat in his leather chair, his elbows resting on the armrests, his hands folded neatly in front of him. He regarded me with the same infuriating neutrality he used in board meetings. It was like yelling at a wall. “Yes, Emily,” he said, his voice maddeningly steady. “I mean it. You’re going to marry Cole Grayson.” My jaw dropped. I felt like I’d just been punched in the gut. “You’re actually serious?” I demanded, the disbelief clear in my voice. “You want me to marry him? Today, I meet him for the first time in ye
Emily's POV. The tension in the air was suffocating. My hands were still clenched into fists, nails biting into my palms, but it didn’t make the fury any easier to hold back. I had spent my entire life thinking I had control over my destiny, but now? Now I felt like I was just a pawn in some cruel game between two powerful men. My father, the one person I thought I could trust, was willing to trade me like a commodity. And for what? For him. For Cole. Cole sat across from me, a wall of cold indifference between us. His jaw was tight, his eyes never meeting mine, his posture stiff and uncomfortable. The silence between us was heavy, but it wasn’t the kind of silence that made you think there was still something left to say. No, this silence was suffocating, each passing moment a reminder that this…this situation was happening, and there was nothing I could do about it. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and strained. "I can’t do this, Emily," he said, as if forcing the words out of
Emily's POV. A week ago, I thought the world couldn’t get any worse. I was wrong. The chaos of that evening was nothing compared to the slow suffocation I’d been enduring since. Every second of every day had been a reminder of my entrapment, and now, here I was…sitting in the room of Cole’s father’s house, being painted and polished for a wedding I wanted no part of. “Hold still,” the makeup artist scolded, her tone sharp as she grabbed my chin and angled my face. “Stop frowning, or the eyeliner will smudge.” I clenched my fists in my lap, resisting the urge to shove her hand away. My jaw ached from how tightly I’d been clenching it, and my shoulders were stiff from the tension I couldn’t seem to shake. The more she worked, the more I felt like I was being turned into someone else…someone I didn’t recognize and certainly didn’t want to be. “There, perfect,” she said finally, stepping back with a satisfied smile. I didn’t look at her. I didn’t thank her. I didn’t care. The s
Emily's POV. The church bells had chimed, their hollow sound echoing in my ears as I stepped into the grand space. My stomach churned with every step I took, my heart pounding violently against my ribs. The air smelled of roses and incense, a sickening combination that made my throat tighten. My hands clenched the bouquet of white roses so tightly I felt the thorns pressing into my palms. Around me, people beamed with joy, their eyes glittering with excitement. They didn’t see the farce unfolding before them. They didn’t see the hatred. At the altar, Cole stood tall, his posture rigid, his expression a mask of cold detachment. He was maddeningly perfect in his suit, his dark hair flawlessly styled. I hated him for it. I hated him for everything. My fingers dug deeper into the bouquet, the pain grounding me as I forced myself forward. He didn’t look at me. Not once. Good. I didn’t want him to. The ceremony began, the priest’s voice echoing through the towering stone walls. Th
Cole’s POVI pushed the hotel room door open, already exhausted from the day’s circus. The stench of roses hit me first, cloying and artificial, a reminder of the mockery of a wedding we’d just gone through. Everything about this room screamed over-the-top luxury, from the gold-trimmed wallpaper to the massive bed in the center. My father’s bed. The same one he probably used for his countless affairs.Disgust curled in my stomach. I wasn’t touching that thing.Wonder why it was his bed? This was his hotel and the bed was the biggest size.Emily was already on the couch, wrapped in every single pillow, looking smug as hell. She’d changed into sweatpants and a sweatshirt, her hair messily tied back after she’d ripped out her hairpins like she was fighting off an attack.She looked like she was settling in for a peaceful night’s sleep. Too bad for her…I wasn’t letting this slide.I shut the door harder than necessary. “You took all the pillows.”Emily didn’t even open her eyes. “So?”I s
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