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Apologies Don't Mean Anything
Last Updated:
2023-07-09 22:12:27
Latest chapter
The Wealthy Divorcee Fire at the Hotel
The smell reached Jenna before the sound.It crept into her lungs like a living thing—sharp, chemical, wrong. Not the accidental smoke of a kitchen mishap or overheated wiring, but something deliberate. Violent. Her eyes snapped open as her throat burned, the air already thick and heavy, pressing against her chest with suffocating intent.The lights flickered.For half a second, she was still trapped in the echo of Alice’s voice.Madrid was only the beginning.Then the fire alarm screamed.Jenna lurched out of bed, coughing as black smoke curled beneath the suite door like a predator slipping its leash. Heat radiated through the walls, unn
The Wealthy Divorcee The Hidden Princess
The night in Madrid, I did not sleep.Sirens wailed somewhere far below the hotel’s gilded windows, their echoes slicing through the velvet silence left behind after the chaos of the previous hour. The attempted assassination had been hushed, buried under layers of royal authority and private security, but the air itself still trembled as if it remembered. Even the chandeliers in the presidential suite seemed to glow too brightly, as though light itself had become suspicious of shadows.Jenna sat by the window, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.The city stretched endlessly below—ancient rooftops, glowing streets, the illusion of peace. It mocked her. Just hours ago, masked men had stalked her hallway with silenced guns and professional precision. If David’s men had been a second slower, she would already be a headline whispered behind closed doors.The Mysterious CEO Dies in Spain.Her fingers curled against the glass. The chill seeped into her bones, but it was nothing compare
The Wealthy Divorcee Sniper in the Towers
Time did not slow.It shattered.—High above the palace, the shooter exhaled.He lay prone against cold stone, body aligned with the rifle as if they were a single organism. The wind was steady. The distance measured. The variables accounted for long before the gala lights ignited below.Gold dress. Center mass.The target moved exactly as predicted.The shooter’s finger rested against the trigger, pressure increasing by fractions. He did not think of faces. He did not think of names. He thought only of instruction.Observe. Adjust. Execute.Below him, music swelled.A king danced.The woman in gold turned her head slightly, laughter flickering across her face for a heartbeat. Something tightened unexpectedly in the shooter’s chest.Annoyance.Emotion was a flaw.He corrected his breathing.—Rex moved before thought could catch him.The red dot burned against Jenna’s chest, a cruel mockery against gold, steady and precise. Rex’s body reacted on instinct older than reason—muscle memo
The Wealthy Divorcee Midnight Ambush
The red dot vanished as if it had never existed.Jenna froze.For a fraction of a second, her mind tried to rationalize it—light reflection, a trick of steam from the bathroom mirror, exhaustion playing cruel games. But instinct screamed louder than logic. The same instinct honed through years of discipline, bruises, broken skin, and relentless training.Danger.Her body responded before fear could settle.She slowed her breathing, grounding herself as her instructor had taught her years ago. Feel the floor. Control the pulse. Do not panic.Jenna crossed the room silently, muscles coiled, fingers flexing as she reached the balcony door. Madrid shimmered beyond the Glass; the city stretched beneath the midnight sky like a jeweled beast at rest. The breeze stirred the sheer curtains, cool and deceptive.She stepped outside.The air shifted.A scrape of fabric. A whisper of movement.Jenna turned—and the first assassin vaulted over the railing.She did not scream.Her foot snapped up ins
The Wealthy Divorcee King's Council
Morning arrived without mercy.Madrid woke beneath pale gold sunlight, but inside Jenna Anderson’s body, the night never truly ended.Every muscle protested as she stood before the tall mirror in the palace guest wing, carefully fastening the last button of her tailored navy suit. Bruises bloomed along her ribs beneath silk and wool. Her throat ached where steel had kissed skin. When she lifted her arm, pain sparked sharply down her side, bright and unforgiving.She welcomed it.Pain meant memory. Pain meant survival.Behind her, the heavy doors opened without a sound.David entered.He had changed as well—formal, austere, dressed in black with subtle gold accents woven into the cuffs and collar. There was no mistaking it now. No corporate illusion. No ambiguity.This was not the man who stood beside her in boardrooms.This was the king.“Are you ready?” he asked quietly.Jenna met his gaze through the mirror. “I’ve faced worse rooms.”A corner of his mouth lifted, but his eyes remain
The Wealthy Divorcee Midnight Ambush
The red dot vanished as if it had never existed.Jenna froze.For a fraction of a second, her mind tried to rationalize it—light reflection, a trick of steam from the bathroom mirror, exhaustion playing cruel games. But instinct screamed louder than logic. The same instinct honed through years of discipline, bruises, broken skin, and relentless training.Danger.Her body responded before fear could settle.She slowed her breathing, grounding herself as her instructor had taught her years ago. Feel the floor. Control the pulse. Do not panic.Jenna crossed the room silently, muscles coiled, fingers flexing as she reached the balcony door. Madrid shimmered beyond the Glass; the city stretched beneath the midnight sky like a jeweled beast at rest. The breeze stirred the sheer curtains, cool and deceptive.She stepped outside.The air shifted.A scrape of fabric. A whisper of movement.Jenna turned—and the first assassin vaulted over the railing.She did not scream.Her foot snapped up ins
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