Xie Huan

On the anniversary of our son's death, I found my husband in our sacred cabin with his pregnant mistress. He sent me their wedding invitation, along with a recording of him calling me "tainted" from the trauma that killed our son, confessing he'd secretly sterilized me to get a "pure" heir. He thought he was starting a new dynasty; I decided to attend the wedding and burn his to the ground.

My husband, David, and I had been married for ten years, a perfect New York power couple on the outside, a carefully constructed lie within. I used his money, he had his affairs, even a secret child. Our lives ran on parallel tracks, never interfering. It was a cold, silent agreement. Then the school called. An accident. Acid. My son, Liam. I rushed to the nurse's office. Liam was pale, a raw burn on his cheek and neck. Another woman, impeccably dressed, stood there, bored. Olivia Chen, socialite extraordinaire. David's mistress. She offered me a check. "My Leo said it was an accident. Boys will be boys. This should be enough to cover the medical bills and keep you quiet." Then her phone rang. It was David. "Yes, I' m handling the other boy' s mother now," she cooed. My husband was concerned for his mistress and their illegitimate son, not ours. The bracelet on Olivia's wrist, an emerald-studded Miller family heirloom, meant for David's wife, for me, shimmered mockingly. My hand went to my phone. David's voicemail. Again. Nothing. My son was hurt, and my husband wouldn't answer. This wasn't anger; it was a cold, hard hatred. A rage that had simmered for a decade, now boiling over. My family, almost ruined. The Millers saved them, but the price was my marriage to David. He didn't want me; he wanted the inheritance clause in the Miller family trust. His firstborn child would control the bulk of the fortune on their tenth birthday. Liam' s tenth birthday was in three days. In three days, the trust would activate. Liam would be in control. I looked from my son's pained face to the arrogant woman wearing my legacy. A cold calm settled over me. Let them have their moment. Their last three days of freedom.

The screech of tires, the violent crush of metal-that' s how it ended. Next to me, my husband David, dying, whispered: "I… I wish I'd never met you." Ten years of my life, a decade of one-sided love, erased by his final, brutal regret, echoing a ghost named Emily White. Then, darkness swallowed me whole. I woke up on a university lawn, young again, dressed in a simple white dress I hadn't seen in a decade. And there he was: David Chen, proposing, the king of campus, holding that familiar velvet box. My heart, once soaring at this moment, was now a block of ice. I closed my architecture textbook with a soft snap. "No," I said, the word cutting through the expectant air. His smile froze. "What did you say?" "I said no, David. I won't marry you." I walked away, straight toward Michael Thorne, the quiet, kind engineering student I had been too blind to see. "Michael," I told him, "I know this is sudden. But I want to be with you." Later, a hand grabbed my arm-David. He knew. He'd remembered our past life. "You're punishing me for what I said, aren't you?" he hissed, his eyes burning with familiar fury. He called me a monster, a liar, and swore Emily had saved him from a falling bookshelf, not me. He was wrong. He threw the ring box at my feet, storming away, convinced I was the villain. But for the first time, I felt a strange peace; this time, his story wasn't mine. I knew my second chance had just begun.

"Lily, you should do it," Tiffany Hayes purred, her eyes fixed on me in the art academy' s lounge. As the scholarship student, managing our class' s two-million-dollar art fund seemed like a twisted honor, a responsibility the elite kids conveniently dodged. Three years later, at our graduation exhibition-the night my life' s work was finally displayed-my childhood friend, Mark Miller, seized the microphone. "Our class art fund has been mismanaged," he announced, his gaze piercing me. "One point eight million dollars is missing." The dreams I had meticulously built shattered. Every eye in the buzzing gallery turned to me, judging, accusing. Tiffany, Mark' s girlfriend, stood by his side, her feigned sympathy a cold knife twisting inside me. They stripped me bare, painting me a thief, a public spectacle. "I have records of everything," I insisted. "Every dollar is accounted for!" But the projection screen behind him flashed a balance of $1,250.34, sealing my fate. "Just tell us what you did with the money," Tiffany cooed, trying to lure out a confession. "We were friends." Friends? Their betrayal burned hotter than any accusation. They had done this. Set me up. Framed me. The rage and humiliation were suffocating, but a cold resolve began to crystallize within me. They thought they had broken me, but they had just ignited a fire. I walked out of the gallery that night, not in defeat, but with a fierce determination. I would find the truth. I would expose them. And they would pay.

My six-year marriage to Sarah was supposed to be a picture of perfect bliss. We were planning an anniversary trip, discussing a future with children, a life built on solid ground. Then, a child' s drawing hidden in her car, labeled "Mommy," shattered my world. It depicted a woman with my wife's long brown hair, and two children named Leo and Mia. Children we didn't have. The whispers I overheard later-Sarah and her mother, talking about "five years" of deceit, a man named David, and those kids-confirmed my worst fears. My beloved wife had a whole other life, a secret family I was unwittingly funding. The "business trips," the late nights, the unexplained cash withdrawals… it all clicked into place, painting me as the delusional fool. The man I thought I was, the life I believed in, crumbled into ash. How could I have been so blind, so utterly duped by the woman I adored? How could someone I trusted completely orchestrate such a monstrous lie? Every cherished memory turned into a new, agonizing layer of betrayal. With nothing left but a cold, burning rage and a profound sense of injustice, I decided: Ethan Patterson had to die. But not in reality. I would disappear, erase myself, and leave her to face the wreckage of the life she had so meticulously built on my unsuspecting heart.

The news of Dr. Seraphina Vance' s divorce from Dr. Julian Hayes hit the scientific community like a shockwave. For me, Chloe, Elias Thorne' s hidden partner for seven years, it was a death sentence to the life I had painstakingly built with him. Suddenly, I was faced with a new, brutal mission from the system that brought me here: ensure Elias and Seraphina, the true protagonists, achieve their "happy ending," even if it meant destroying my own. I had to orchestrate their reunion, push the man I loved into another woman's arms, and watch him embrace the woman he was "destined" for, while systematically erasing myself from his life. Worst of all, when Seraphina framed me, manipulating Elias into believing I was incompetent-or worse, malicious-he chose her. He watched me, gasping for air from a severe allergic reaction she triggered, and walked away, choosing his "show" over my life. How could he believe her fabricated lies over the seven years we shared, over the evidence of his own eyes? Now, after sacrificing everything, manipulating events, and nearly dying to fulfill this twisted destiny, I found myself standing on a rooftop, preparing to step off and finally go home, to my real life. But as I looked down, I saw Elias, pure panic on his face, finally understanding. This wasn't a game. It was my final act of self-sacrifice, forcing him to confront the truth of what he' d lost.

Caleb, my brilliant partner and fiancé, stroked my hand. "One more month, Gabby," he whispered, "and you'll officially be the COO of Aura. My queen." We were celebrating our empire, the tech company I architected from our dorm room. I thought we were building a kingdom together. That was the last clear thing I remembered before waking up to shattering pain. My hands, once capable of flying across a keyboard, were broken, mangled. Rough voices laughed from beyond a thin wall: "Caleb paid good money... said to make sure her hands were unusable." My world imploded. It was Caleb. All of it. He "rescued" me, a perfect performance for the world. But in the ambulance, he leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. "You should have just been happy with what you had. Now, you have nothing." My hospital room became a gilded cage. I listened as he plotted with his intern, Molly, to take my COO position, mocking my nerve damage, certain I was finished. He even sabotaged my surgery, ensuring permanent injury. The humiliation peaked when he wheeled me onto a stage, only for me to "accidentally" fall, exposed and vulnerable, to the world. The "Shark of Silicon Valley" became "Poor Gabby Johns," a tragic spectacle. Every condescending word, every false show of concern, was a fresh wound. He thought he'd broken me, reduced me to a pitiful charity case. He had no idea. While he celebrated his victory, believing I was defeated, a hidden message whispered into an encrypted tablet ignited a plan. I pretended to surrender, buying myself time. He just made his biggest mistake: underestimating the woman he tried to bury. I was re-arming, and the real war was about to begin.

I was dying of colon cancer in a hospice, all my $150,000 savings for retirement and my son, Ethan, almost gone. Ethan cried, telling me his girlfriend, Chloe, stole every penny for a luxury condo. I believed him completely. My hatred for that "gold-digger" burned hotter than my cancer. In my final hours, I called the police, determined to ruin Chloe for letting me die disgraced. I died filled with pure, unadulterated hate. My last thought was of her painful demise. How could she betray a dying woman so cruelly? The injustice was unbearable. Then I gasped, not in the hospice, but in my own living room, alive and whole. The doorbell chimed-the day I first met Chloe. And as she entered, I heard her innermost thoughts: "I hope she likes this locket; Ethan said she only respects expensive brands." My rage short-circuited. Ethan had lied. My son was the monster. I was back, with a chilling chance to make him pay.

Ten years. That' s how long I' d navigated a world painted by touch and sound. My hands, once destined for university papers, now kneaded muscles as a Licensed Massage Therapist. It wasn' t the life I planned after the mysterious incident that stole my sight, but it was a life. Until today. The afternoon rush ended, and the clinic settled. Then, loud, careless voices drifted from the waiting area. Kevin Miller, an old student from that last proctored exam, bragged. But it was the other voice, smooth and arrogant-Ethan Vance-that chilled me. He chimed in, "The real reason that TA went dark? The culprit was right there in the exam room with him. I' d know." My breath caught. They were talking about my blindness. A chilling certainty settled in my gut. Barely had I finished my last client when Ethan Vance ambushed me. A hand clamped over my mouth, a cold, sharp object pressed against my side. "You heard too much, Mr. Davis," Ethan' s voice whispered, colder, devoid of smoothness. A searing pain. Then, darkness, deeper than any blindness I had known. He murdered me. But then, a gasp tore from my throat. My eyes flew open. Light. Blinding, painful light. I could see. Fluorescent lights. Desks. Students. It was the exam hall. Ten years ago. I was back. My vision, crystal clear, a painful paradox after a decade of blindness and the fresh memory of my murder. Ethan Vance. He was here, in this room. The killer. The "culprit" who, in mere minutes, was about to destroy my life. He thought he' d silenced me, but now I was back. The clock on the wall showed 8:58 AM. Two minutes until my world went black in my first life. I had to stop it. This time, everything would be different.

Ava Miller, co-founder of AuraSynch and devoted partner to Ethan Reed, believed she had it all. Her decade building their tech empire seemed a testament to enduring love. Then, a latte from Ethan clouded her mind, initiating a nightmare. Trapped, Ava overheard him arranging to harvest her kidney for his ex, Chloe Vance. Frantic whispers revealed Ethan had also forced her to abort their child years ago, all for Chloe. Her world collapsed, realizing the calculated exploitation of her body and love. Ethan' s cold disregard, his abandonment for Chloe' s whims, and Chloe' s taunts highlighted Ava' s utter worthlessness. Even after Ethan intentionally sacrificed her as bait on a bridge, his monstrous cruelty remained. How could the man she loved see her as a disposable resource? The crushing realization ignited an unwavering resolve, extinguishing her foolish affection. Severing all ties, she erased him from her life, resigning and clearing their shared home. With icy determination, Ava made a single call to Ethan' s fiercest rival, launching a shocking new chapter. She emerged not as a victim, but a force ready for public revenge.

Thanksgiving at our Palo Alto mansion always felt like a picture-perfect scene. My five-year-old son, Leo, innocently reached for a cookie offered by Chloe, my husband Ethan' s glowing, pregnant sister-in-law. Then, horrifyingly, Leo started gasping for air, his small face turning a terrifying shade of blue. He was deathly allergic to peanuts, and Chloe' s feigned shock, "Oh my god, I had no idea!" was chilling. Ethan, my powerful tech mogul husband, immediately turned his furious gaze on me. "Sarah, how could you be so careless? You know about his allergy!" he roared, for all our wealthy guests to hear. At the hospital, while Leo fought for his life, Ethan comforted a tearful Chloe outside. He sneered at me, "Amelia would have been a better mother," then forced me to endure an invasive stem cell donation for Chloe' s high-risk pregnancy. I woke up, groggy and sore, just in time to hear the doctor confirm I' d likely never conceive again, followed by Ethan' s chilling response: "Good. She doesn' t deserve more children." "Good." That word ignited a cold, sharp fury in my veins, extinguishing any remaining hope or loyalty. Was I merely a disposable placeholder in this gilded cage, forced to sacrifice my body for the very people who had deliberately harmed my son? The injustice burned hotter than any physical wound. They thought I was broken, that I' d crawl back. They were wrong. My wedding ring felt like a brand, not a bond, as I slipped it off and handed Ethan the divorce papers. My escape, meticulously planned, had just begun, and the world was about to see what happens when a broken woman rebuilds herself, stronger and utterly ruthless.

I had worked my entire life for this. The Starlight Innovators Scholarship—a full ride to MIT—was finally mine, and the principal had just called my name. But as I stood to accept, a shrill voice cut through the applause. My father's mistress, Brenda Sullivan, publicly railed that her son deserved it, claiming my "generous" father had funded the school. My father, Richard, who just lived off my mom's untold fortune, beamed beside her as they tried to snatch my future, painting me as ordinary. I exposed their first lie: my reclusive genius mom, Eleanor Vance, was NovaCore's actual founder and the *real* donor. Yet they didn't stop; they launched a vicious online smear campaign and my father even physically attacked my professor at MIT. How could my own father, this charlatan, repeatedly try to sabotage my life with such brazen lies? Why did they relentlessly pursue me, twisting truths and resorting to violence, just to protect their crumbling fabricated world? But they underestimated me. I was done being their victim. When Kevin, in a desperate rage, broke into my dorm with a knife, I knew it was time to ensure their web of deceit collapsed—not just online, but for good.

Fresh out of grad school with a hefty education degree and crushing student loans. I tweaked my resume, dropping the master's, just to get a job as a domestic. My first gig was for the ultra-rich Davis family. I quickly discovered their nine-year-old daughter, Chloe, wasn't a "terror" but a traumatized child, neglected and abused. Her parents, especially her mother, ignored her cries for help, then punished her for every slight. I couldn't stand by. I protected Chloe, showed her kindness, and slowly, a bond formed. But the moment their cruel matriarch caught wind of it, she used my falsified resume as an excuse to destroy me. I was fired, blacklisted from every wealthy family in the city, and left penniless, deemed a liar and a troublemaker. How could showing a suffering child an ounce of compassion lead to me losing everything? I was stranded, my career shattered, all for daring to care where others wouldn't. The injustice burned, leaving me with nothing but despair. Just when I thought this was the end, Chloe, the very girl I was accused of "manipulating," ran away from her gilded cage and found me. Clinging to me as her last hope, she whispered, "I have a plan."

Jennifer, a young female CEO, capable and brilliant. Kent, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, idle but talented. She was the one everybody was envious of, but nobody could see how much effort she made to shoulder the future of her family. He was the one who owned everything, but he showed no interest in fame and gain. What could intrigue him was only her.

Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé. Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one? Wrong. One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup. So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise. Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Enter him. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised. But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made. Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he's not letting me go.

I was sitting in the Presidential Suite of The Pierre, wearing a Vera Wang gown worth more than most people earn in a decade. It was supposed to be the wedding of the century, the final move to merge two of Manhattan's most powerful empires. Then my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram Story from my fiancé, Jameson. He was at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris with a caption that read: "Fuck the chains. Chasing freedom." He hadn't just gotten cold feet; he had abandoned me at the altar to run across the world. My father didn't come in to comfort me. He burst through the door roaring about a lost acquisition deal, telling me the Holland Group would strip our family for parts if the ceremony didn't happen by noon. My stepmother wailed about us becoming the laughingstock of the Upper East Side. The Holland PR director even suggested I fake a "panic attack" to make myself look weak and sympathetic to save their stock price. Then Jameson’s sleazy cousin, Pierce, walked in with a lopsided grin, offering to "step in" and marry me just to get his hands on my assets. I looked at them and realized I wasn't a daughter or a bride to anyone in that room. I was a failed asset, a bouncing check, a girl whose own father told her to go to Paris and "beg" the man who had just publicly humiliated her. The girl who wanted to be loved died in that mirror. I realized that if I was going to be sold to save a merger, I was going to sell myself to the one who actually controlled the money. I marched past my parents and walked straight into the VIP holding room. I looked the most powerful man in the room—Jameson’s cold, ruthless uncle, Fletcher Holland—dead in the eye and threw the iPad on the table. "Jameson is gone," I said, my voice as hard as stone. "Marry me instead."

I was at my own engagement party at the Sterling estate when the world started tilting. Victoria Sterling, my future mother-in-law, smiled coldly as she watched me struggle with a cup of tea that had been drugged to ruin me. Before I could find my fiancé, Ryan, a waiter dragged me into the forbidden West Wing and locked me in a room with Julian Sterling, the family’s "fallen titan" who had been confined to a wheelchair for years. The door burst open to a frenzy of camera flashes and theatrical screams. Victoria framed me as a seductress caught in the act, and Ryan didn't even try to listen to my pleas, calling me "cheap leftovers" before walking away with his pregnant mistress. When I turned to my own family for help, my father signed a document severing our relationship for a five-million-dollar payout from Julian. They traded me like a commodity without a second thought. I didn't understand why my own parents were so eager to sell me, or how Ryan could look at me with such disgust after promising me forever. I was a sacrifice, a pawn used to protect the family's offshore accounts, and I couldn't fathom how every person I loved had a price tag for my destruction. With nowhere left to go, I married Julian in a bleak ceremony at City Hall. He slid a heavy diamond onto my finger and whispered, "We have a war to start." That night, inside his secret penthouse, I watched the paralyzed man stand up from his wheelchair and activate a screen filled with the Sterling family's darkest secrets. The execution had officially begun.

She spent ten years chasing after the right brother, only to fall for the wrong one in one weekend. ~~~ Sloane Mercer has been hopelessly in love with her best friend, Finn Hartley, since college. For ten long years, she's stood by him, stitching him back together every time Delilah Crestfield-his toxic on-and-off girlfriend-shattered his heart. But when Delilah gets engaged to another man, Sloane thinks this might finally be her chance to have Finn for herself. She couldn't be more wrong. Heartbroken and desperate, Finn decides to crash Delilah's wedding and fight for her one last time. And he wants Sloane by his side. Reluctantly, Sloane follows him to Asheville, hoping that being close to Finn will somehow make him see her the way she's always seen him. Everything changes when she meets Knox Hartley, Finn's older brother-a man who couldn't be more different from Finn. He's dangerously magnetic. Knox sees right through Sloane and makes it his mission to pull her into his world. What starts as a game-a twisted bet between them-soon turns into something deeper. Sloane is trapped between two brothers: one who's always broken her heart and another who seems hell-bent on claiming it... no matter the cost. CONTENT WARNING: This story is strongly 18+. It delves into dark romance themes such as obsession and lust with morally complex characters. While this is a love story, reader discretion is advised.  

In the glittering world of high society and cutthroat ambition, a single sentence shatters a marriage: "Let's get a divorce." For three years, Claire Thompson has lived in exile, her marriage to the powerful Nelson Cooper a hollow shell existing only on paper. Shipped abroad on her wedding day and utterly forgotten, she returns only to be handed divorce papers. But Claire is no longer the timid, heartbroken girl she once was. Behind her quiet facade lies a woman transformed, secretly rejoicing at her newfound freedom. However, freedom comes with a price. As Claire signs the papers with relief, a chilling phone call reveals a dark truth: the threats she faced overseas were no accident, and the trail leads shockingly close to home-to the family that raised her and the husband who discarded her. Just as she prepares to sever all ties, a twist of fate pulls her back into the gilded cage. Nelson, for reasons unknown, suddenly stalls the divorce. Meanwhile, the family that disowned her and the fragile, manipulative sister who stole her life are determined to ruin her reputation and drive her out for good. But Claire is playing a different game now. With a mysterious new identity, powerful allies, and secrets of her own, she is no one's pawn. As hidden truths unravel and loyalties are tested, a stunning question emerges: In this high-stakes battle of love, betrayal, and revenge, who is truly trapping whom?

Twelve years of love, loyalty, and promises-shattered in one gunshot moment. Aria thought she knew what love meant: sacrifices, patience, blind faith in the man she'd called her fiancé for over a decade. But on Valentine's Day, with a gun pointed in their direction, Liam instinctively shielded his ex, Sophia-while Aria was left bleeding and invisible. "You almost died!" "And he didn't even look at me, Lili. He wrapped his arms around her like I was nothing." Torn between heartbreak and dignity, Aria makes a bold move-marrying Liam's wealthy rival, Aiden Carter, in an impulsive act of revenge. But Aiden is more than a rebound. He's powerful, possessive, and unexpectedly protective-and he plays for keeps. Now caught between a love that failed her, and a man who may demand more than she's ready to give. Aria's heart faces the ultimate reckoning. Will she finally become someone's first choice-or lose herself trying?

After the divorce, she became the dream woman everyone longed for. James Ferguson saved Zelda Liamson and always did whatever she asked, making sure she had everything she could ever want. Zelda thought it was true love. After five years of marriage, she realized she was nothing more than his favourite pet, while he was her whole world. Then, the woman James truly loved came back, and Zelda demanded a divorce. James mocked her, saying, " You can't survive without me. What will you do without the Ferguson's name? " But Zelda did run away and never looked back, receiving marriage proposals every day. James lost his mind and returned, begging Zelda, "Please, come back to me. Give me another chance." His eyes were full of love and desperation.

I just got my billionaire husband to sign our divorce papers. He thinks it's another business document. Our marriage was a business transaction. I was his secretary by day, his invisible wife by night. He got a CEO title and a rebellion against his mother; I got the money to save mine. The only rule? Don't fall in love. I broke it. He didn't. So I'm cashing out. Thirty days from now, I'm gone. But now he's noticing me. Touching me. Claiming me. The same man who flaunts his mistresses is suddenly burning down a nightclub because another man insulted me. He says he'll never let me go. But he has no idea I'm already halfway out the door. How far will a billionaire go to keep a wife he never wanted until she tried to leave?

"You'll be my wife on paper only. You'll have everything-except my heart. You'll never be Marina." For five years, Lily lived as David's secret wife-his poised secretary by day, his invisible stand-in by night. Every cold touch reminded her she was just a replacement. Every whispered "Marina" cut deeper than the last. Their marriage was born from an accidental night-a mistake he turned into a contract. He wanted nothing but an image and a convenience, yet she foolishly gave him her whole heart. So when the real Marina returns, Lily knows her time as the placeholder is up. David's actions make it clear: she was only ever a convenient replacement. Without a fight, she signs the divorce papers and walks away, surrendering the position he always wanted to give to another. But why is it that the man who once swore he'd never love her... now refuses to let her go? David doesn't understand why Lily's absence haunts him. Why her quiet strength burns him in ways Marina never did. All he knows is that he's determined to get her back. By any means necessary. Even if it meant breaking her all over again. She paid the price for loving him once. Now, he'd pay for losing her forever.

Ashley Carter never imagined her wedding day would end with her being kidnapped by a total stranger. Even more confusing? The man who took her, Charles Blackwood, claims she's his bride. But Ashley has never seen him before in her life. Charles, a powerful and cold-hearted CEO, is used to getting what he wants-and now, he wants Ashley. Though she doesn't remember him, he's determined to make her his, body and soul. He showers her with relentless affection and overwhelming desire, leaving her no room to escape his grasp. Ashley tries to resist his overbearing charm, but Charles is persistent. Every touch, every kiss, pulls her deeper into a world of passion and obsession. She may not know who he is, but he's about to make sure she never forgets him again. But can love truly grow from such a twisted beginning? Or is she just a pawn in his dangerous game of desire?