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,
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
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 ocean was out in front of me, dark and endless, swallowing the last streaks of daylight. The waves crashed against the shore, loud and untamed, a sharp opposite to the silence between Cole and me. I sat on the edge of the porch, my legs tucked under me, arms wrapped around my knees. The air smelled like salt and rain, the sky threatening to open up any second.Cole leaned against the wooden railing behind me, arms crossed, eyes sharp. He hadn’t relaxed since we got here. Not once. I could feel his gaze on me, the weight of it heavy, like he was waiting for me to say something.I didn’t.Not yet.Because my mind was stuck on one thing. Vanessa.She had slipped through the cracks again. The police still couldn’t find her. It didn’t matter how many times they swore they had her cornered…she always found a way out. Like a damn ghost. I wanted her caught. I wanted her to pay. But she was still out there, breathing free air, while I was stuck hiding.I hated that.I clenche
Mateo’s POVFour days.Four days since that little bitch stabbed me and ran off with that bastard Cole Greyson. Four days since I sat in that goddamn chair, blood dripping from my hand, while my own men stood there like idiots, too stunned to react.I should’ve shot her. Should’ve grabbed her by that pretty throat and squeezed until there wasn’t an ounce of defiance left in those sharp, angry eyes. But I didn’t. I had let her slip away, and now…now, I was going to make her pay.Pain pulsed through my hand as the doctor unwrapped the bandage, inspecting the wound with a careful touch. I barely felt it. The rage burning inside me was hotter, sharper, more unbearable than the throbbing in my flesh."You're healing well, sir," the doctor muttered, dabbing antiseptic over the stitched-up hole in my hand.I didn't answer.I stared straight ahead, jaw clenched, mind already a thousand miles away. The doctor was nothing but background noise, a useless presence in a room that reeked of medicin
Cole’s POVThe phone buzzed in my hand.Daniel’s voice came through the second I answered. “It’s Vasquez. He’s on Richard Hart’s neck. Hard.”I leaned against the railing of the villa’s balcony, my gaze fixed on Emily in the distance. She stood near the shoreline, her arms crossed, hair whipping in the salty breeze as the waves crashed against the sand. She looked calm, too calm…but I knew better. Beneath that stillness was a storm.“Talk,” I said, my voice edged with steel.Daniel didn’t hesitate. “Vasquez is furious. He blames Emily for everything. The betrayal…he’s losing his grip, and he’s desperate to get her back under control.” He exhaled sharply. “He’s sworn to get her by all means.”My jaw tightened. The muscles in my face flexed as a sharp wave of anger ran through me.That bastard.Emily wasn’t a toy. She wasn’t some possession Vasquez could reclaim. She had broken free from his control, and he couldn’t stand it. The thought of her choosing her own path, choosing me…it drov
Emily's POV.A strange coldness settled over my skin. The air was thick, like I was inhaling smoke, yet I saw no fire.I was inside a house. No, not just any house…it was weird.The walls were way too high, swallowing the light, leaving me in an endless corridor of darkness. Doors lined both sides, shut tight, their golden handles gleaming under the lighting above. My stomach twisted. Because something felt odd about it.I took a step forward. The neat marble floor was colder than ice against my bare feet. My breath hitched. Why was I here? I had escaped. I had run as far as I could. Cole had taken me away. This isn't real.But then, a sound. A deep, amused chuckle.My blood ran cold.“You still walk like you own the world, princesa.”His voice slithered into my ears, sending a shiver down my spine. I turned sharply, my heart hammering against my ribs.Mateo Vasquez sat in a chair at the far end of the hallway, his legs crossed, a crystal glass in his hand. The liquid inside swayed as
Emily’s POVThe woods were quiet, only the soft crunch of leaves beneath our boots breaking the silence. The sun had barely started dipping behind the trees, reflecting long streaks of gold between the branches. The air smelled fresh, like damp earth and pine, and for the first time in days, I felt like I could actually breathe.Cole walked beside me, his hands in his jacket pockets, his eyes scanning the trees like he was waiting for something to jump out. Always on edge. Always watching. It should have been annoying, but it wasn’t. Not when I knew why."You know," I said, stuffing my hands into my hoodie, "you don't have to babysit me twenty-four seven."Cole shot me a look, a half-smirk pulling at his lips. "I'm not babysitting you, Emily.""Sure," I deadpanned. "You just happen to be glued to my side at all times?"He didn't answer, but his smirk deepened.I rolled my eyes and kept walking, kicking a rock out of my path. Truth was, I liked having him here. After everything, after
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