Hutton Ryte

In a world ruled by power and illusion, the most dangerous role is playing yourself. When scandal detonates inside the powerful Laurent empire, its fragile heiress, Georgia Laurent, vanishes from public view. Investors panic. Markets wobble. The media circles like vultures. Then Georgia returns. Perfectly styled. Perfectly composed. Perfectly convincing. There's just one problem. She isn't Georgia Laurent. She's Sharon Beckley - a struggling actress drowning in debt and one missed audition away from losing everything. When the enigmatic fixer James Barnett offers her an obscene amount of money to impersonate the heiress "temporarily," Sharon accepts. It's a role with strict rules: smile for cameras, memorize the biography, sign where instructed, and never ask questions. But behind the mirrored walls of the Laurent estate, Sharon discovers this isn't damage control. It's containment. Locked wings of the mansion. Security systems recently upgraded. Burned files in marble fireplaces. Offshore accounts bleeding billions from Laurent Global Holdings. And whispers of a former executive whose fatal accident may have been murder. When Sharon pushes too far, the pressure shifts. Surveillance tightens. James grows colder. The board becomes ruthless. Then the real Georgia disappears. No flight records. No secure messages. No proof she's alive. And suddenly Sharon understands the truth: she wasn't hired to stand in. She was selected to replace. Now trapped inside a stolen identity with powerful men determined to preserve the illusion, Sharon faces an impossible choice - become Georgia completely and inherit an empire built on blood... Or expose the conspiracy and risk being erased permanently. Because in the Laurent world, identities are assets. And only one Georgia Laurent is allowed to exist.

Title- A Name Without A Past Author- Abraham Tejiri Onojighofia Genre: Psychological Suspense Romance / Crime Thriller Tagline: Memory lies. Danger doesn't.. Larry awakens in an abandoned hospital with no name, no past, and no memories-except one. A woman's face. Her voice. Her presence. The single image floating in the hollow wreckage of his mind is so sharp, so undeniable, that he knows she matters. He doesn't know who he is, but he knows he must find her. Moments after he escapes the hospital, someone tries to kill him. Driven by instinct and the one memory he trusts, Larry follows the fragment of recognition until it leads him to Ella Morgan, a composed and fiercely intelligent homicide detective. But instead of relief, he's met with confusion. Ella has never seen him before. According to her, he is a stranger. But danger arrives before either of them can walk away. A sudden attack convinces Ella that Larry is not lying-someone wants him dead. And the attempt on his life mirrors the recent string of unsolved murders she is investigating. Against policy and against her better judgment, Ella takes him under temporary protection. Immediately, unsettling cracks begin to appear in her certainty. Larry recognizes places connected to the case. He reacts to threats with a trained instinct he can't explain. And his fragmented flashbacks seem tied to secrets Ella wasn't supposed to uncover. As they race to piece together his missing identity, a darker truth begins to emerge. Larry's amnesia is no accident. Evidence points to a covert operation, a covered-up crime, and powerful enemies determined to bury the truth permanently. His erased memory may hold the key to a conspiracy that reaches into the police force, the city's elite-and Ella's own past. With each step closer to the truth, the connection between them deepens. Larry feels drawn to her with an unshakable certainty that defies logic, while Ella fights the pull of a man who may be the missing link to her most dangerous case yet. But as Larry's memories begin to return, so does a chilling realization: Ella wasn't just a face in his mind. She was the last person he tried to protect before everything went dark. Now, the enemies hunting Larry have turned their sights on her. In a deadly race against a faceless adversary, Larry and Ella must unravel the past he's forgotten before it destroys them both. Because the silence Larry woke up with isn't empty-it's hiding a witness, a secret, and a truth someone is willing to kill to keep buried. And the closer the truth gets, the more dangerous remembering becomes.

The Last Ledger ‎ ‎Kira Bennett had spent her entire life in the quiet margins. A meticulous, introverted accountant, she preferred the certainty of numbers over the unpredictable tangle of human emotions. Her days were predictable, her nights uneventful, and her world small by design. Until one ordinary evening-one misplaced flash drive-shattered the safety she thought would last forever. ‎ ‎It arrived by mistake, slipped into her files as casually as a memo. But the contents were anything but ordinary. Inside that unassuming drive lay the kind of evidence that could topple an empire-financial trails of corruption, coded transactions, offshore accounts, and the darkest revelation of all: murder. Kira understood numbers better than anyone. But these numbers told a story of greed, blood, and betrayal on a scale she'd never imagined. ‎ ‎Before she could make sense of what she'd uncovered, the threat came knocking. A silent team-merciless, efficient, and trained to erase problems-was dispatched to eliminate her. Kira had always believed preparation and order could protect her from chaos. But rules and caution meant nothing when hunted by ghosts who moved with lethal precision. ‎ ‎Then came Donovan Hale. ‎ ‎Handsome, reckless, and infuriatingly charismatic, Donovan was the last person she expected to crash into her life-and the only person capable of keeping her alive. As the estranged son of the corporation whose secrets the flash drive threatened to expose, Donovan had spent years rejecting his father's empire. He carried his own battle scars, his own buried fury at the rot beneath the polished corporate surface. Bringing the empire down wasn't just rebellion-it was justice. And Kira's accidental discovery was the weapon he'd been waiting for. ‎ ‎Their partnership formed out of necessity, but it was far from seamless. Kira, methodical and cautious, struggled to keep pace with Donovan's impulsive, risk-driven strategies. Donovan, who thrived in chaos, found himself both amused and frustrated by her rigid logic and quiet determination. Yet beneath their clashing styles, an unexpected respect began to grow-a recognition of strength in each other neither had anticipated. ‎ ‎Danger pushed them closer. Every narrow escape, every tense hideout, every shared secret deepened a connection neither of them was ready for. Attraction simmered between them-sharp, undeniable, and every bit as dangerous as the mercenaries chasing them. Kira had never imagined desire could feel like a second heartbeat; Donovan had never imagined he could care for someone who didn't come wrapped in adrenaline and trouble. But love thrives in the shadows where fear and trust collide. And for the first time, they both found something worth fighting for beyond survival. ‎ ‎As they raced through underground networks, abandoned warehouses, and the hidden corners of a city built on deceit, the truth behind the crime ring grew clearer-and more terrifying. The empire's reach was long. Its enforcers were merciless. Allies turned into liabilities. Safe houses became traps. Every step closer to justice carried a heavier cost, and every choice demanded sacrifice. ‎ ‎For Kira, the transformation was profound. The woman who once sought safety in routine discovered a resilience forged in fire. For Donovan, the battle became personal in ways he'd never expected, as protecting Kira forced him to confront the ghosts of his family's legacy-and the man he wanted to become. ‎ ‎Their enemies closed in with suffocating precision, determined to silence them before the truth could surface. But Kira and Donovan were no longer running-they were fighting back. Armed with the damning evidence on the drive, a strategic mind sharpened by terror, and a partnership burning with equal parts adrenaline and longing, they pushed toward the heart of the conspiracy. ‎ ‎The Last Ledger is a gripping fusion of suspense, danger, and electrifying romance. It follows two unlikely allies thrust into extraordinary circumstances-one seeking escape from chaos, the other born from it. Their journey weaves through betrayal, hidden agendas, and high-stakes confrontations, all while exploring the fierce, fragile bond that grows between them. ‎ ‎In the end, their mission is not just to expose corruption but to survive long enough to see justice delivered. And along the way, they discover that the most powerful force in a world built on lies isn't money, secrecy, or control. ‎ ‎It's the unexpected bond between a woman who never wanted the spotlight ‎and a man who'd spent his life running from it. ‎ ‎Together, they are dangerous. ‎Together, they are unstoppable. ‎Together, they are the last hope to bring an empire to its knees. ‎

‎ ‎ ‎Sophia Hayes has perfected the art of control. In the high-pressure world of The Metropolitan, she's the youngest senior journalist ever hired-an achievement built on ruthless discipline, flawless execution, and a reputation that makes even seasoned reporters double-check their facts before speaking to her. She is sharp. Unshakeable. Precise to the bone. Her life runs on deadlines, color-coded calendars, and emotional walls tall enough to withstand anything. ‎ ‎Dean Mercer is everything she isn't-and everything she doesn't have time for. A wildly successful illustrator whose comic series Love Is a Mess has a cult following online, Dean lives in a world where structure is optional and inspiration is everything. His apartment is chaos. His sleep schedule is chaos. His heart is chaos. He creates brilliance in messy strokes but hides his deepest truths behind humor, charm, and a smile that masks more wounds than he lets on. ‎ ‎So when the magazine pairs them for a high-stakes project-a revolutionary feature blending investigative journalism with illustrated storytelling-everyone expects disaster. Sophia expects worse. ‎ ‎Their assignment: explore modern love through real stories across the city. Raw, unfiltered, unpredictable love. ‎ ‎Exactly the kind of assignment that makes Sophia want to run. ‎ ‎Dean arrives late to their first meeting with coffee stains and excuses. Sophia arrives with a binder thick enough to double as a weapon. Dean studies her timeline like it's written in a foreign language. Sophia studies Dean like he's a problem she needs to solve before he derails everything she's built. ‎ ‎Their partnership begins in sparks-sharp, heated, dangerous sparks. ‎Arguments disguised as discussions. ‎Discussions disguised as power struggles. ‎Power struggles disguised as creative differences. ‎ ‎But tension has a habit of twisting into something else when the nights grow long. ‎ ‎As they dive into the city-interviewing strangers whose love stories survived decades, storms, heartbreaks, second chances-something shifts between them. Slowly. Quietly. Against both of their wills. ‎ ‎Sophia begins to see past Dean's easy humor to the man underneath-the one who fears failing the people he cares about, who draws comics because it's the only way he knows how to tell the truth. And Dean sees the cracks in Sophia's armor-the vulnerability she protects like a secret, the softness she doesn't show, the fire in her that the world misunderstands as coldness. ‎ ‎Their conversations deepen. Their arguments soften. Their laughter blends. ‎And the chemistry-the kind they both pretend not to notice-tightens around them like an invisible thread. ‎ ‎But the closer they get, the heavier the air becomes. Because both of them are hiding something. ‎ ‎Sophia hides her fear of losing control. ‎Dean hides his fear of being the reason someone gets hurt. ‎ ‎And the feature they're creating-meant to uncover the truth about modern love-begins exposing truths they never meant to reveal. About each other. About themselves. ‎ ‎Their late-night work sessions grow intimate, electric. Their stories blur with the stories they're collecting. Dean sketches Sophia without meaning to-capturing expressions she never lets the world see. Sophia writes notes about him she can't bring herself to delete. Something real starts forming in the space between them, fragile but undeniable. ‎ ‎Until the past they both buried finds them. ‎ ‎A mistake from Dean's life-one he thought he'd left behind-reaches the editorial floor at the worst possible time. A detail with enough weight to derail the feature, shatter their progress, and wound the one person who finally saw him clearly. ‎ ‎Sophia's instinct is survival. Run before she gets hurt. Seal her heart before it cracks open. Dean's instinct is retreat. Protect her from the version of himself he fears is still true. ‎ ‎Deadlines tighten. Trust fractures. ‎Their work stalls, their communication splinters, and the connection they've been dancing around threatens to snap under the strain. ‎ ‎But desire doesn't listen to logic. ‎And hearts don't obey deadlines. ‎ ‎Even as they pull away, they keep orbiting each other-drawn back together by an ache neither can extinguish. Their arguments deepen into something rawer, heavier. Their silence holds more meaning than their words. ‎ ‎They must choose: ‎fight for the story that could define their careers... ‎or fight for the connection that could rewrite their futures. ‎ ‎And when an unexpected message, a truth revealed too late, and one irreversible decision collide, they're forced to confront the question their feature was meant to answer: ‎ ‎What does love look like today- ‎and can two people living at opposite rhythms find it before it slips through their fingers? ‎ ‎On the edge of losing their partnership... ‎their second chance... ‎and each other... ‎ ‎

Leonard Cross has built an empire on precision, ruthlessness, and control. As the CEO of Cross Industries, his name commands fear as much as respect. To his board, he's a visionary; to the world, he's a self-made billionaire; but behind the sleek offices and power suits lies a man hollowed out by secrets - and guilt. Years ago, a hostile takeover of a smaller tech company ended in tragedy when the owner, a man named Daniel Hart, lost everything... and then his life. Leonard buried the incident and his conscience along with it, telling himself it was just business. Now, years later, Leonard runs his company like a fortress - until she walks in. Stephanie Reed arrives one morning as his newly appointed executive assistant, recommended by an elite agency. She's efficient, poised, and impossibly capable. She anticipates his every need before he even voices it. Coffee exactly the way he likes it. Meeting notes already summarized. Calls screened before he even asks. Leonard, who's fired three assistants in a month, finds himself begrudgingly impressed - and unsettled. From the very first day, there's something about her that feels too familiar. The curve of her handwriting. The way she watches him when she thinks he isn't looking. Her calm, unreadable expression when his temper flares. She never flinches - even when others do.

Greg Hartman is a brilliant but notorious novelist, known as much for his bestselling books as for the scandals that seem to follow him. Chaotic, charming, and unapologetically reckless, he thrives on breaking rules - both on the page and off it. Debbie Lawson is the opposite: a meticulous, no-nonsense editor who values professionalism above all else. She doesn't bend the rules, doesn't entertain drama, and certainly doesn't mix business with pleasure - especially not with a client like Greg. Assigned to oversee Greg's next novel, Debbie expects long nights of tense revisions, endless debates over plot points, and navigating his notorious temper. What she doesn't expect is the slow-burning, undeniable chemistry that simmers between them, turning each critique, glance, and accidental touch into a dangerous spark.

Ashley gave Nicolas ten years of love and five years of loyalty as his perfect housewife, only to be repaid with betrayal, humiliation, and death at the hands of him and his mistress. After being reborn, she vowed to make them pay. She tore apart the mistress, kicked her useless husband aside, and returned as the heiress of a top-tier family. Surrounded by billions, luxury, and a parade of elite bachelors, Ashley became the woman everyone wanted-including a cold, powerful tycoon. When Nicolas came begging for forgiveness, she smiled coldly. "Fuck off! My man is worth a hundred of you."

For seven years, I played the perfect, hidden wife to billionaire August Chambers while working quietly as an ER nurse. Three days before our marriage contract expired, he stormed into my emergency room carrying a bleeding woman. It was Allena, his cousin's fiancée. She had suffered a ruptured corpus luteum from their violent, aggressive sex. Instead of hiding his affair, August ordered me to clear the floor and threw a massive check at my face to buy my silence. Later, his friends trapped me in a VIP club. When a waiter tripped, August violently shoved me aside just to protect Allena from a spilled cup of coffee. I crashed into a glass table, a sharp edge slicing deep into my arm. "Apologize to her, and I'll have my driver take you to the hospital." As my blood soaked into the white rug, he stood over me, demanding I get on my knees for his mistress. He didn't know I had faked a miscarriage five years ago to secretly raise our daughter far away from his cruelty. He also didn't know the money he flaunted was pocket change compared to my hidden AI tech empire. I calmly tied a tourniquet around my bleeding arm with my teeth and wiped my blood directly over his heart onto his custom suit. "I'm done with you." The submissive nurse was dead, and it was time to let him burn in the ruins of his own lies.

Cast out by an "elite" family and mocked by high society, Elena shocked everyone by marrying the most powerful man in town. They assumed it was a temporary arrangement-after all, he had said, "The agreement is for two years. After that, we're done." Yet after the wedding, he refused to let her go. "Elena, you can't leave me." As he doted on her, rumors shattered one by one. A renowned painter, top hacker, and tech mastermind-her true identities stunned the world. When a luxury empire announced their lost heiress, all eyes turned to her. "Why did she look exactly like Elena?"

I spent three years building my husband, Axel Farrell, into Silicon Valley's ultimate "family man." As his lead PR strategist, I carefully managed his public image, making sure the world saw him as a perfect, devoted husband while I worked in the shadows of our estate. The illusion shattered when he came home one night smelling of sandalwood and roses, with three deep fingernail scratches carved into his back. When I tried to check his phone, the passcode we had used for years-our wedding anniversary-had been changed. The betrayal got worse the next morning when his mother called me a "defective product" and tried to force me into a fertility clinic. Axel didn't defend me; instead, he shoved me against a marble bar at a public gala to protect his mistress in front of the world's elite. By the time I tried to leave, Axel had frozen my bank accounts and filed a forged legal petition to have me declared mentally incompetent. He planned to have me legally kidnapped and locked in a private psychiatric ward just to stop me from filing for divorce. He even blocked every major law firm in the city from taking my case, leaving me with no money, no identity, and no one to turn to. I couldn't understand how the man who "saved" me from the mud years ago could be the same monster now trying to legally erase my existence. Was our entire marriage just a grooming process to exploit my genius for his billion-dollar empire? As the deadline for my forced commitment approached, I stopped crying and opened my laptop. I leaked the video of his affair to every tech journalist in the country, watching his stock price crash in real-time. "Axel thinks starving me out will make me crawl back to him," I whispered as I walked into the headquarters of his biggest rival. "But he forgot that the most valuable part of his company is in my head." I was no longer the abandoned wife; I was the one who was going to take his throne and burn it to the ground.

I went to the City Clerk's office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk's pitying look told me my entire life was a lie. "The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single." The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate. Gray's text to her was the final blow: "Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we're done with the charade." I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray's life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance. How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury. I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street." "I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray." If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world.

My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out. I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm: "In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling." Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped. When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself." Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son. The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne. I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie." I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare.

Everyone knew Kristine loved Colton. Still, his heart clung to a woman overseas-someone he spent most days with, now pregnant with his baby-and Kristine still asked him to marry her. On their registration day, however, he never came; his "true love" had flown back. Seven years of loyalty later, Kristine walked away, blocked him, and left his city. Colton didn't blink-until he saw her at the courthouse, arm-in-arm with another man, and the proud CEO went pale. He went after her, desperation overtaking him. "I'm sorry. Please give me another chance." She snapped, "Could you stop? I'm already married."

I lived as the "scarred ghost" of the Stephens penthouse, a wife kept in the shadows because my facial burns offended my billionaire husband's aesthetic. For years, I endured Kason's coldness and my family's abuse, a submissive puppet who believed she had nowhere else to go. The end came with a blue folder tossed onto my silk sheets. Kason's mistress was back, and he wanted me out by sunset, offering a five-million-dollar "silence fee" to go hide my face in the countryside. The betrayal cut deep when I discovered my father had already traded my divorce for a corporate bailout. My step-sister mocked my "trashy" appearance at a high-end boutique, while the sales staff treated me like a common thief. At home, my father threatened to cut off my mother's life-saving medicine unless I crawled back to Kason to beg for a better deal. I was the girl who took the blame for a fire she didn't start, the wife who worshipped a man who never looked her in the eye, and the daughter used as a human bargaining chip. I was supposed to be broken, penniless, and desperate. But the woman who stood up wasn't the weak Elease Finch anymore; she was Phoenix, a tactical predator with a $500 million secret. I signed the divorce papers without a single tear, walked past my stunned husband, and wiped the Finch family's bank accounts clean with a few taps on my phone. "Your money is dirty," I told Kason with a cold smile. "I prefer clean hands." The cage is open, the hunt has begun, and I'm starting with the people who thought a scar made me weak.

For two years, I was the invisible force behind tech billionaire Kieran Douglas, convinced that our "private" romance was his way of protecting us from the tabloid spotlight. I managed his mergers, warmed his bed, and waited for a future that didn't exist. The illusion shattered at 6:00 AM when a Page Six alert debuted Kieran's "real" romance with socialite Aspen Schneider. Before I could even process the betrayal, Kieran sent me a cold, professional text: "Order flowers for Aspen. Pink peonies. Her favorite." When I tried to walk away, my own mother called me a disgrace and threatened to lock my inheritance forever unless I married a sixty-year-old businessman to save her failing estate. At a high-society gala that same night, Aspen intentionally crushed my burned hand in front of the cameras, while Kieran stood by and dismissed me as a "mediocre assistant" who had overstayed her welcome. I stood in the cold New York rain, drenched in champagne and humiliation, realizing that every sacrifice I made for Kieran was a joke. I was a ghost in a penthouse that was never mine, discarded the moment his "soulmate" returned. To the world, I was just a placeholder whose time had run out. But Kieran forgot one thing: my father's multi-million dollar trust fund unlocks the moment I legally marry. I didn't need love; I needed a signature and a shield. I walked into a discreet law firm and signed a marriage contract with a man I believed was the city's most notorious, scandal-ridden playboy. I thought I was marrying a degenerate "beard" to buy my freedom and secure my revenge. I didn't realize the man who signed that paper wasn't a playboy at all, but Gaston Collins-the most powerful and dangerous man on Wall Street-and he had no intention of letting our fake marriage stay fake.

For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted. Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke. Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph. Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!" With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off." A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!"