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 every move, but I was used to it by now. This was my life. The youngest, most successful female CEO in the city—Emily Hart. The doors to the hall opened, and the chaos outside was replaced by the refined elegance of the event within. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting a warm glow over the sea of tuxedos and evening gowns. I paused for a moment, taking it all in. My father’s friends—men who had dominated the industrial sector for decades—milled about, champagne flutes in hand, their laughter mingling with the soft strains of classical music. A tall figure emerged from the crowd—my father. His proud smile was unmistakable as he made his way toward me, his hand outstretched. “There she is,” he said warmly, his voice full of pride. “The woman of the hour.” “Dad,” I said, shaking his hand before pulling him into a brief hug. “You’re the one who built this empire. I’m just steering the ship.” “And you’re doing a damn fine job of it,” he replied, his eyes crinkling with genuine pride. As we moved further into the room, several high-profile figures turned their attention to me. One by one, they came forward to introduce themselves, their words dripping with admiration and curiosity. “Emily, I’ve heard so much about you,” one man said, extending his hand. “Henry Calloway, CEO of Calloway Industries. Your work in the tech sector has been impressive, to say the least.” “Thank you, Mr. Calloway,” I replied, my tone polite yet assertive. “We’ve been focusing on innovation and sustainability—it’s the way forward, don’t you think?” Another woman, dressed in an elegant black gown, approached next. “Emily, I’m Evelyn Carter. Your partnership with GreenTech last quarter was brilliant. You’re setting a new standard for leadership.” “Thank you, Ms. Carter,” I said with a small smile. “We believe collaboration is key. No empire is built in isolation.” The conversations flowed seamlessly, each exchange reinforcing the respect I’d worked so hard to earn. My father stood nearby, watching with an expression that spoke volumes. He was proud of me, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I truly belonged in his world. As the evening progressed, I moved through the crowd with ease, exchanging greetings and pleasantries, my confidence unwavering. I was no longer the girl who had been humiliated in a university hallway. No longer the girl whose tears had blurred her vision as she ran from the cruel laughter. I was Emily Hart, CEO of Hart Enterprises. And this was my moment. The applause was deafening as I stood at the podium, staring out at the sea of well-dressed professionals who had gathered for tonight’s event. My speech had started smoothly, detailing Hart Enterprises’ vision for the future and the strides we’d made in sustainable development. I spoke with the confidence of someone who had clawed her way to the top, earning every bit of respect the room gave me. But then he walked in. At first, I wasn’t sure it was real. The double doors at the back of the hall opened with a subtle yet undeniable presence, and in strode a man surrounded by bodyguards. His dark, tailored suit hugged his tall, broad frame perfectly, and his chiseled jawline was more defined than I remembered. My stomach churned as his familiar, self-assured smirk spread across his face, and I recognized him instantly. Cole Grayson. The same Cole who had humiliated me all those years ago. The same Cole who had ruined my self-worth, made me the laughingstock of my peers, and drove me to transfer schools just to escape the endless torment. He looked... different. Older. More polished. But the arrogance in his stride and the casual way he adjusted his cufflinks told me he hadn’t changed one bit. My breath caught in my throat, and my carefully rehearsed words faltered. I blinked rapidly, trying to focus, but my brain was screaming at me to run. “…and that’s why… um… innovation is at the core of Hart Enterprises,” I said, my voice uneven. I caught my father’s concerned glance from the front row and knew I had to wrap this up before I completely lost my composure. “Thank you for your time,” I concluded hastily, stepping away from the microphone as applause erupted. I descended the stage, plastering a neutral expression on my face even as my heart raced wildly. The moment I was out of the spotlight, I exhaled shakily, gripping the edge of a nearby table to steady myself. How could he be here? Why was he here? I quickly regained my composure, smoothing my suit and joining the mingling crowd. The event was winding down, with guests exchanging pleasantries and business cards. My father beckoned me over, standing beside Nicholas Grayson, one of his longtime friends and a prominent figure in the industry. “Emily,” my father said, his voice brimming with pride. “I want you to meet Nicholas’s son, Cole. He just got back to town after spending three years abroad managing Grayson Corp’s international operations.” My entire body stiffened as Cole turned to face me, his expression unreadable but professional. “Emily Hart,” he said smoothly, extending a hand. His voice was deeper now, more refined, but it still carried that maddening air of superiority I remembered all too well. I stared at his hand but didn’t take it. Instead, I met his gaze with a cold, neutral expression and nodded curtly. “Mr. Grayson,” I said simply, keeping my voice flat. Cole raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by my reaction, but he quickly recovered. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, lowering his hand. “Hart Enterprises has been making waves recently. Impressive work.” I didn’t respond. Instead, I turned to my father and began discussing an unrelated topic, deliberately ignoring Cole as if he were a ghost. My father, oblivious to the tension, beamed at us both. “Isn’t it great to see the next generation taking the reins, Nicholas?” he said, clapping Nicholas on the back. Nicholas nodded, smiling warmly. “Absolutely. We should schedule a meeting for these two to discuss potential collaborations. What do you think, Cole?” Cole glanced at me, his jaw tightening slightly. “Of course. I’d be happy to.” I didn’t even acknowledge his words, my focus entirely on my father. “I’ll check my schedule,” I said, my tone dismissive. The men continued talking, but I tuned them out, my mind swirling with memories I’d buried for years. Cole had no idea who I was—or at least, he pretended not to. But I remembered him. I remembered the way his words had cut me like knives, the way his mocking laughter had echoed in my ears for weeks. I remembered the shame, the tears, the relentless whispers and stares from my classmates. And I remembered the video, immortalizing my humiliation on the school blog for everyone to see. That humiliation had shaped me, hardened me. It had driven me to become the woman I was today—smart, confident, and untouchable. But seeing him again brought back every ounce of pain and rage I’d buried. As the men continued their conversation, I excused myself and walked away, my heels clicking against the marble floor. I needed space, air, anything to stop the memories from flooding back. Cole Grayson had come back into my life. And I despised him with every fiber of my being.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
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 POVThe water was still now. Calm, undisturbed.A few hours ago, Emily had been swimming in that pool, her hair slicked back, droplets sliding down her skin. I was absent when she went out to swim but I knew exactly what she looked like. Now, the pool was empty. Just like the house. Just like me.I leaned against the balcony railing, gripping it tight. The clock on my phone read 11:07 PM. Four hours since she left. Four hours since her father had forced her to go.And I had done nothing.I exhaled sharply, running a hand down my face. The weight in my chest had been growing, pressing harder with every passing minute. Just standing here, waiting, doing nothing…it was killing me.Then…SCREECH!The violent sound of tires skidding against the ground snapped my head toward the gates. My entire body locked up.A car.A black Camry, speeding toward the estate like it had been chased by the devil himself.The guards rushed to block it, guns drawn…Then, suddenly, the passenger-side wi
Emily’s POVThe drive felt like a funeral procession, only I was the corpse being dragged to my own execution. The two female bodyguards sat on either side of me, their presence suffocating. I didn’t fight them anymore…not because I had given up, but because I refused to give my father the satisfaction of watching me struggle.But my hate? That was alive. Burning.I stared out the tinted window as the city blurred past, my nails digging into my palms. My father’s men drove in silence, the car’s engine the only sound in the stifling air. I could still feel the rough grip of those women on my arms, the way they had dragged me through the house, down the grand staircase, and into the car like I was a damn piece of luggage.My father had finally resorted to brute force.Typical.The car pulled up in front of an expensive restaurant…one of those exclusive places where rich men made dirty deals over overpriced steak and wine. The entire building screamed wealth, from the polished black exte
Emily’s POVI sat on the edge of my old bed, my arms wrapped around myself, my nails digging into my skin. My body was still wet from the pool, my swimsuit clinging to me like a second skin, but I didn’t care. The cold air in the room did nothing to cool the fire burning inside me.Everything about this place made my skin crawl.The walls were the same dull beige, the curtains the same expensive silk my father insisted on. The chandelier overhead glowed too bright, the same way it had when I was a teenager locked in this house, suffocating under his rules.Four months.That was how long it had been since I left this place. Since I married Cole and walked out of here.And now I was back.Dragged here like a puppet in my father’s twisted game.I clenched my teeth, my jaw tight, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might break through my ribs. The fury inside me was a living thing, coiled and waiting to explode.I should have fought harder.I should have screamed louder, clawed at him,
Cole’s POVI couldn’t breathe.She was gone.I stood there, fists clenched so tight my nails cut into my palms, staring at the empty driveway where the car had disappeared. My mind couldn’t process what had just happened. It felt like someone had reached inside my chest and ripped my heart out while I was still alive.Emily had walked away.Not because she wanted to. Not because she stopped loving me. But because she was trying to protect me.That thought made it worse.I ran a hand through my hair, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. My men were still there, waiting for my command. The tension in the air was thick, like it hadn’t settled even after Richard Hart had taken her. My own bodyguards had their hands on their guns, still on high alert.I should have stopped her. I should have grabbed her, thrown her over my shoulder, and locked every door in this damn house. But I knew Emily. She wasn’t someone I could cage, no matter how much I wanted to.I let out a sharp breath and
Emily’s POV“If Cole tries to stop me, there will be bullets in the air.”My father’s words still rang in my ears, making completely unsettled.And then, it happened.A gunshot.Loud. Sharp.My heart nearly leaped out of my chest as the sound tore through the tense silence, echoing across the courtyard. One of my father’s men had fired into the air, his grip steady, his face blank.For a second, everything froze.Then, chaos erupted.Cole’s bodyguards moved instantly, pulling their weapons with the precision of trained professionals. The men my father had brought with him did the same, their guns raised, their fingers twitching near the triggers.The air became charged, electric with the promise of violence. My breath hitched as I stared at the two groups facing each other, weapons drawn, ready to fire at the slightest provocation.One wrong move, and people would die."STOP!" I screamed, my voice cracking with panic.No one moved.My father stood tall, his expression blank, unmoved b
Emily’s POVThe cool water wrapped around me like silk as I drifted on my back, staring up at the evening sky. The pool lights had blue shimmer, reflecting against the marble tiles of the mansion’s courtyard. It was quiet…peaceful even. For the first time in days, my mind wasn’t racing. No thoughts about Mateo Vasquez, my father’s ridiculous attempts at controlling my life, or Vanessa’s insanity. Just silence and the soft ripple of water.Then, I heard it.A commotion. Raised voices.I blinked, lowering my body into the water. My fingers clenched into a fist as I turned my head toward the mansion’s entrance. Something was happening.I swam to the edge of the pool, pulling myself up. My wet hair clung to my back as I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around myself. The voices grew louder, and I caught sight of multiple black SUVs parked in the driveway. The headlights were still on, casting long shadows over the garden.Men in suits. Guns strapped to their sides.My father’s men.And the
Cole’s POVMateo was about to learn that power meant nothing when you had no control.I sat in the backseat of my car, parked a block away from his hotel, scrolling through the latest report on Vanessa. She was still on the run, slipping through every crack like a damn ghost.This morning, I’d gotten an update…Vanessa had killed a police officer. Slit his throat right there on the road, like it meant nothing. But what caught my attention more? She wasn’t alone.A man was with her.Ronan.From what I’d gathered, he wasn’t some criminal mastermind or hired gun. Just a guy who had made the mistake of getting tangled up in Vanessa’s mess. Maybe he thought he was helping her. Maybe he had no idea who she really was.Didn’t matter. He was shielding her now, and that made him a problem.But Vanessa could wait. Tonight, I had something else to handle.Mateo.…7:00 PM.Mateo walked into the hotel like he owned the city.Four bodyguards surrounded him as he strode across the marble floors of t
Vanessa’s POVThe rain pelted against the windshield as we sped down the empty highway. The motel was miles behind us, swallowed by the darkness, but my pulse was still racing. Ronan’s hands gripped the wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. The only sound was the tires skidding slightly on the wet pavement and the low hum of the engine.I sat in the passenger seat, my hoodie pulled low over my face, my fingers drumming against my knee. The air inside the car was thick, tense. I could tell Ronan was pissed.He hadn’t said a word since we left.Fine. I didn’t care.I stared out the window, my mind still burning with the same rage. Emily. Cole. They were all that mattered now. I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life running like some helpless little girl. No. I was going to take back control.Then…Flashing lights.Blue and red, dancing in the rearview mirror.Ronan cursed under his breath.“Shit.”I turned my head sharply, my heartbeat picking up.A cop.His patrol car was righ
Vanessa’s POVThe motel was a dump.Peeling wallpaper curled at the edges, revealing dark stains underneath. The carpet was stained with things I didn’t want to think about. The whole place reeked of old cigarettes, mildew, and cheap beer, the kind of filth that clung to your skin no matter how hard you scrubbed. The bed creaked under me as I shifted, the springs groaning in protest.Ronan had made me disguise myself before we even got close to this hellhole. He had taken scissors to my hair, hacking off just enough to make me look different. I had nearly clawed his eyes out for that. Then he shoved an oversized hoodie at me, one that drowned my frame, and told me to wear it along with a pair of cheap sunglasses. The final insult was a baseball cap he tossed at me like I was some runaway teenager instead of Vanessa Kings.I used to wear couture. Silk, cashmere, the kind of fabrics people only dreamed of touching. Now I was drowning in polyester and denim that didn’t fit. My nails dug