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,
Emily’s POVIt had been a few days since Smith came into my life, and I was already starting to realize something…being a big sister was hard. Like, really hard.I had no idea what I was doing.I was used to handling powerful men in business meetings, shutting down corporate sharks who thought they could intimidate me, and standing my ground in rooms full of people waiting for me to fail. But a four-year-old? That was an entirely different battlefield.Smith was quiet, too quiet. He hardly spoke, and when he did, it was short, simple sentences that left me scrambling to figure out what he was thinking. He wasn’t scared of me, not exactly, but he watched me like I was an unpredictable storm…like I could do something crazy at any moment, and he needed to be prepared.Which, fair. I was unpredictable.And I had no idea how to be soft.I never had siblings growing up. I didn’t know what it was supposed to feel like. Was there some kind of switch that flipped inside you? Some natural insti
Cole’s POVThe post-funeral reception was held at Richard Hart’s estate…a massive, sprawling mansion that screamed wealth and power.The kind of place where every corner had been meticulously designed to impress.Expensive art lined the walls. Crystal chandeliers hung from high ceilings, their lights low to match the somber mood. Waiters in black suits moved silently through the crowd, offering glasses of aged whiskey and champagne.But no one was here to drink.They were here to watch.Richard Hart was dead. And now, the question that lingered in the air, unspoken but loud, was…what happens next?I kept my eyes on Emily.She stood near the grand staircase, her posture rigid, her hands clasped together. The funeral had drained the color from her face, but there was still a fire in her eyes. A sharp, unyielding fire that dared anyone to challenge her.She wasn’t grieving like a daughter who lost a father.She was calculating.Because Emily Hart knew better than anyone that grief wasn’t
Cole’s POVThe church was packed.Rows of people, all dressed in black. The men in expensive suits, the women in elegant dresses that screamed wealth and power. It wasn’t just a funeral…it was an event. The kind only reserved for men like Richard Hart.Billionaire. Business mogul. Ruthless strategist.And now, a dead man.White lilies surrounded the altar, their scent thick in the air, almost suffocating. The coffin sat in the center, gleaming under the dim lights of the church. A masterpiece of craftsmanship, polished to perfection. Everything about this funeral was excessive, grand, like Richard had planned it himself.I kept my eyes on Emily.She stood at the front, beside her mother, her back straight, her jaw tight. She wasn’t crying. She hadn’t cried once since her father died. Not at the wake. Not today. Not in the days leading up to this.But I knew her.I knew what restraint looked like.She was holding it all in.She wore a long, black dress, the fabric hugging her figure in
Emily’s POVThe rain was everywhere. In my hair, in my eyes, soaking through my clothes like a second skin. The wind howled so loud it felt like the whole world was screaming, but nothing was louder than the storm inside me. My pulse pounded in my ears, my breathing was uneven, and my body ached from the bruises and cuts Mateo had left on me.But none of that mattered.Because right now, all I saw was my father’s blood on Mateo’s hands.His grip on my arm was tight, his fingers pressing into my already sore skin as he dragged me toward the edge of the cliff. My boots struggled against the wet ground, slipping on the mud, but he yanked me forward without care.“Fucking hell, you are the most difficult young woman I’ve ever dealt with,” Mateo growled, his voice strained with frustration. His grip tightened painfully, his breath ragged. “Never in my life have I gone through this much shit just for a pussy.”I saw red.I twisted in his grip, my free hand swinging up. Slap. The sound crack
Cole’s POVFew hours earlier.The second my phone rang, I knew something was wrong.I was already on edge, my gut telling me that something didn’t sit right. Emily was supposed to be safe at the cabin. It wasn’t a permanent place, just a temporary stop while we figured out our next move. But the second I saw the name flashing on my screen…one of my men guarding her…something inside me tensed.I swiped to answer. “Talk.”Heavy breathing. Then a voice, rushed and strained. “Boss, we’ve got a problem.”My grip tightened around the phone. “What kind of problem?”A pause. Then, “Two of our guys are dead. Execution style. Emily was taken.”Everything around me blurred. The chatter in the car, the hum of the engine, even the weight of my gun resting on my thigh…it all faded.“What?” My voice was low, deadly.“We didn’t see them coming. It was clean, professional. They hit fast and hard. Emily’s gone, and we’ve got no idea where they took her.”I exhaled through my nose, trying to keep my ang
Emily’s POVThe sound of the gunshot still rang in my ears, but my brain struggled to process what had just happened.My father…Richard Hart…lay sprawled on the cold concrete floor. Blood spread from his chest, soaking into his once-neat suit. His eyes were open, but there was no life left in them.He was dead.I stared at his body, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. My chest felt tight, like something heavy had settled on top of it, making it impossible to breathe.A strange, choking noise left my throat before I realized it was me.Mateo chuckled, spinning the gun on his finger before handing it back to one of his men. "Well, that was dramatic," he muttered, wiping his hands on his pants like Richard’s death had somehow dirtied them.My head snapped up."You…" My voice cracked, raw with fury. "You son of a bitch!"Mateo barely spared me a glance. "Oh, don’t act like you cared, Emily. The man treated you like trash your whole life."I jerked forward, but the ropes held me back.
Emily’s POVThe van lurched to a stop, jerking my body forward. My hands, still bound behind my back, strained against the rough rope cutting into my wrists. My shoulders ached from being in the same position for too long, and my head was still foggy from whatever they had drugged me with earlier. I clenched my fists, flexing my fingers to get some blood flow back.The back doors creaked open, and the sharp scent of gasoline and damp concrete hit me. It was dark outside, the only light coming from flickering streetlamps and the glow of a distant neon sign. Warehouse. Predictable. These kinds of men always picked the same dingy, abandoned places, like they had some unspoken rule about keeping things as cliché as possible.A voice cut through the silence. "Get her out."A pair of rough hands grabbed my arm, yanking me forward. My feet hit the ground hard, knees buckling slightly before I steadied myself. The men surrounding me were armed, their fingers twitching near their weapons. Thei
Emily's POVThe second Cole left, the room felt different. It wasn’t anything obvious…nothing in the cabin had actually changed. The furniture was still where it was. The fire still crackled in the small fireplace. The faint scent of burning wood and old pine still hung in the air. But the energy? That had shifted completely.It felt heavier. Tighter. Like the walls had moved in just a little, enough to make my skin itch.Cole’s men weren’t exactly making it any better. They weren’t talking. Hell, they weren’t even looking at me unless they had to. One of them stood stiff by the door, arms crossed over his chest like he was guarding something priceless. The other, leaner but just as intense, kept glancing out the window every few seconds, his fingers twitching near his gun.I exhaled, dragging my fingers through my hair, then leaned back into the worn-out couch. "You guys always this fun, or is this just special treatment for me?"Silence.Buzz-cut guy at the door didn’t even blink. H
Cole’s POV.I couldn't get any sleep after being intimate with Emily. I was still up, staring at my phone, the screen glowing in the cabin light. A message. Just two words."He knows."My jaw clenched.For a second, I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. My mind ran through every possibility. Every way this could have happened. We’d been careful…meticulous, even. No leaks, no loose ends. And yet, somehow, Mateo was a step ahead.I shut my eyes briefly, forcing my pulse to slow. I needed to think. Fast.The air in the cabin suddenly felt too thick, the walls too close. I pushed up from the chair, grabbing my jacket off the back of it and stepping outside. The cold night air hit me instantly, sharp and unforgiving, but I welcomed it. It kept me grounded. Kept my mind from spiraling.The trees around the cabin swayed slightly in the breeze, their branches casting long shadows under the moonlight. It was dead quiet out here, the kind of silence that felt unnatural…like the whole forest was holdin