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 head with a finger, like I was some kind of mannequin…his lips curled into a twisted grin. “You like me?” he repeated, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. "Seriously. Have you even seen yourself?" He gestured toward me, his expression now pure disgust. "What, because I gave you an umbrella once, you think I’m your ticket to... what? Happiness? You’re dreaming." The laughter grew louder. His friends were practically howling now, their mockery making my skin crawl. I wanted to shrink away, disappear. But I couldn’t move. My legs were stiff, my chest heavy with shame. “You really think I’d ever go for someone like you?” Cole sneered, his voice suddenly turning bitter and cruel, like I was nothing but a joke. “You’re nothing. Just some girl who’s obsessed with me because I was nice enough to give you my umbrella. That’s the best you got, huh? A damn umbrella?” He threw his hands up as if my feelings were the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. “Get a grip, Emily. We’re not even on the same track. You’re nowhere near my league. I’m the guy everyone wants, and you—” He stopped, looking me up and down again, shaking his head like he couldn’t even comprehend how I could’ve thought this was a good idea. “You? You’re a joke. A loser.” I could feel the sting of his words, each one like a slap to my face. My vision blurred, and I blinked furiously to fight the tears that were threatening to spill. "You're pathetic, you know that?" His words sliced through the air. "You think because I’ve smiled at you a couple of times, that means anything? You think I care? I don’t even remember your name half the time." His eyes narrowed as he let the words sink in, watching me flinch with each cruel jab. His friends were still laughing, egging him on. "Damn, Cole, you’re gonna break her heart!" one of them said, slapping him on the back like this was all some kind of twisted game. “You should’ve seen the look on her face when she thought he might like her,” another one added, his voice full of mock sympathy. “Classic move, Cole. She’s got a thing for the golden boy, huh?” I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt like it was caving in, my skin on fire from the humiliation. How could I have been so stupid? So naive to think he would ever see me as anything other than a joke. His words rang in my ears over and over. You’re nothing. A loser. Pathetic. Cole's smirk only deepened as he stepped even closer, his face now inches from mine. I could smell the faint scent of his cologne, mixed with sweat from the game, but all I could focus on was the bitterness in his eyes. "Listen, Emily," he said slowly, like he was explaining something to a child. "You’re never going to be anything more than the girl who hides in the back of the class, the one no one notices until it’s too late. You think you can change that with some lame confession? You’re wasting your time." His tone dripped with disgust. “You want to know the real reason I gave you that umbrella?” He paused for effect, his lips curling into something ugly, something dark. "It’s because I felt sorry for you. That’s it. Nothing more.” The laughter from his friends grew louder, filling my ears until I couldn’t hear anything else. The sound of it crushed me, shattering everything inside me that had once dared to believe maybe, just maybe, he could see me differently. And then, Cole pushed past me without another word, not even sparing me a second glance. His friends followed, still snickering behind him like a pack of hyenas. I stood there, unable to move, feeling like the world had come crashing down on top of me. My hands were shaking, my chest heaving as I fought to keep my emotions from spilling over. Tears burned at the back of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I couldn’t—couldn’t let them see me break, couldn’t let them see how much I was hurting. But the ache in my chest was unbearable, like I’d just been ripped apart by his cruel words. I felt the weight of everything—the laughter, the humiliation, the bitterness—pressing down on me. For the first time, I understood exactly how small I was in the grand scheme of things. Cole Grayson didn’t even see me. He didn’t care. And I was foolish for ever thinking that I could change that. “Pathetic,” I whispered to myself, repeating his words like a mantra. I had to get out of there. I couldn’t stand to be in the same space anymore. I turned on my heel and hurried down the hallway, the echoes of their laughter following me like a dark shadow. The tears finally started to fall, but I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t care who saw. I didn’t care about anything anymore. Because in that moment, I realized that no matter how much I had liked him, no matter how badly I had wanted him to notice me, I was nothing to him. Just a girl with glasses, nothing more. And as much as I hated it, I knew he was right—I would always be nothing.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
Emily's POV. The first thing I saw when I woke up was Cole. Not on the bed. Not even on the chair. On the floor. I sat up on the couch, rubbing my eyes, trying to make sense of it. This idiot had actually chosen to sleep on the floor instead of the ridiculously huge bed that his father had arranged for us. I hated the man, but even I had to admit that was a level of stupid I hadn’t expected. My gaze dropped to his face. His jaw was tight even in sleep, like he was still scowling at me in his dreams. His arms were crossed over his chest, his legs stretched out, one foot slightly twitching. For a second, I was tempted, really tempted…to stomp on his foot. Just a little. Just enough to wake him up with a nice jolt of pain. But I held back. Last night had been funny for me, even though I despised him with every bone in my body. Watching him struggle to calm his whiny girlfriend had been pure entertainment. The way his face had twisted in disgust when he swore he’d rather r
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