After the death of her parents in a fatal accident, Maria's life takes an ugly turn. Immersed in huge debts and meeting her supposed boyfriend pants down with another lady, Maria is heartbroken. In the spur of the moment, she decides to end it but luckily gets saved by a mystery man. Going to the club for a fun time, she gets drunk and bangs a stranger who is no other than Andrew Walker, the son of her parents's killers. Shockingly, he is her savior; the mystery man, and just as he gave her a second chance at life, he's determined to frustrate her to death. When his fake date for the day disappoints him, Maria is his only hope. What is supposed to be a one-time thing, needs another and another until she's tied with Andrew. How much can she endure her fate? And secretly seeking revenge for her parents, will she damn their bond and hurt her savior in wolf's fur?

Chapter 1 Last straw

I should've known it would go this way.

I mean, really. How many times does a person need to get rejected before taking the hint? But there I was, sitting in a sleek office chair, clutching my resume like some desperate idiot.

The hiring manager, Mr. Conway, gave me the kind of smile you give a child who just handed you a crayon drawing of a stick figure family. Pitying. Patronizing. Fake as hell.

"So, Maria," he said, skimming my resume with zero enthusiasm. "You applied for the receptionist position, correct?"

I nodded, forcing a smile. "Yes, I have experience with customer service, I'm great with organization, and-"

"Mm-hmm," he interrupted, setting my resume aside. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning me. "I have to ask... are you comfortable on your feet for long periods?"

I blinked. "Um... yes?"

His lips twitched. "And... how would you say your stamina is?"

My stomach twisted. "Excuse me?"

He folded his hands on the desk. "It's just-our receptionists have to maintain a certain image. Polished. Professional. Fit."

Fit.

There it was.

My face burned, but I kept my voice even. "I'm more than capable of handling the job."

He gave me that pitying smile again. "I'm sure you are."

Then he reached for another file-already done with me.

Panic bubbled in my throat. I really needed this job. "Please. Just give me a chance."

He exhaled through his nose, like I was exhausting him. "We do have openings in janitorial services. If you're interested."

My heart dropped.

Janitorial.

He was telling me I was too fat to sit at a damn desk but maybe, just maybe, I could push a mop around.

I stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the tile. "No. Thank you."

He nodded, already looking past me. "Best of luck then."

I didn't bother replying.

I stormed out of the office, each step pounding with humiliation.

Polished. Professional. Fit.

I wasn't an idiot. I knew I wasn't some runway model. But to be reduced like that? To be told-without being told-that I wasn't good enough to sit at a front desk?

I inhaled sharply, shoving the thoughts aside. Fine. Whatever. I didn't need some corporate job with a sleazeball boss anyway.

I needed Luka. My gorgeous boyfriend who loved me for me.

He always knew what to say. He'd wrap his arms around me, tell me I was amazing, that the world was full of idiots who didn't see my worth. I'd sink into his couch, steal his snacks, and pretend everything was fine.

Luka lived in a fancy apartment downtown. He wasn't super rich, but he came from money. He liked to pretend he struggled, but I knew better. I had been struggling my whole life.

I took the stairs instead of the elevator, needing the extra time to calm down. Luka would understand. He always did.

I reached his door and turned the handle.

Unlocked.

Weird.

"Luka?" I called, stepping inside.

The place was dark, the air thick with the scent of wine and perfume. My stomach twisted.

A low moan echoed from the bedroom.

I froze.

No. No, no, no.

My body moved on autopilot. My feet carried me forward, past the kitchen, past the framed photos of us on the wall. The door to his bedroom was half open.

I pushed it wider.

And there he was.

Luka. Naked. On top of another woman.

The woman turned her head, a lazy smirk on her lips. Blonde and Gorgeous.

Sophie.

His friend from college.

The one he told me not to worry about.

Sophie sat up, stretching like a goddamn cat. "Oops."

Luka turned his head, completely unfazed. "Shit. You weren't supposed to see this."

I couldn't breathe. My whole body shook. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Luka ran a hand through his messy hair, looking more annoyed than guilty. "Look, Maria, let's not make this a big deal."

Not a big-

I choked on a laugh, my vision blurring. "We've been together for two years"

He sighed, like I was the one being unreasonable. "And it was nice. But let's be real, Maria. You're-" He paused, then shrugged. "A lot."

I blinked. "A lot?"

Sophie snickered. "That's an understatement."

I turned on her. "Shut the fuck up."

She raised her hands in mock innocence. "Hey, don't be mad at me. I'm not the one he got bored of."

Luka groaned. "Can you not?" He looked at me. "Listen, babe-"

"Don't fucking babe me you asshole."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Maria. You're sweet, okay? But you're-how do I put this nicely?-a goddamn charity case. And I need a woman who actually fits my lifestyle."

The words hit like a slap.

I stumbled back, ears ringing.

"You're disgusting," I whistpered.

Luka just shrugged. "You'll get over it."

I didn't stay to hear anything else.

I turned and ran.

How could he do this to me?

Two years. Two freaking years. And this is how it ends?

I walked through the streets, tears streaming down my face. The cold wind biting at my skin. I wanted to scream. To break something. But what was the point? I had nothing left to lose.

No job. No money. No home.

And now, no Luka.

I reached for my phone with shaking hands. Susan. My only friend. She'd know what to do. She always knew what to do.

The phone rang once. Twice.

Then straight to voicemail.

I let out a shaky breath. Of course. Even she wasn't here for me.

A fresh wave of despair crashed over me.

I kept walking, my body moving on autopilot, until I found myself on the old bridge. The river below was dark and endless, swallowing hard I gripped the cold railing, my heart pounding.

I wasn't crazy. I wasn't being dramatic.

I was just tired.

Tired of fighting. Tired of struggling. Tired of losing.

A memory hit me like a punch to the gut.

**Five years ago.**

My parents' laughter filled the car as we drove home from dinner. It was one of those rare nights when everything felt perfect. Then-screeching tires. Headlights. A loud crash.

And just like that, they were gone.

The media covered it for a day, then buried it. The Walkers-the powerful, untouchable Walkers-had lost their lives in the accident. And my parents? They became the villains. Reckless. Irresponsible. The ones to blame.

I was twelve. Alone and miserable.

And now, standing on this bridge, it felt like it was time to join my parents.

The world would be better off without me.

I climbed onto the ledge, my breath hitching. The wind whipped around me making me tremble. My fingers curled around the railing.

Just one step.

Just-

"MARIA!"

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