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For five years, I was his shadow and his secret lover, all because of a deathbed promise to his older brother-the man I was supposed to marry. On the day that promise was fulfilled, he told me to plan his engagement party to another woman.
For five years, I was his shadow and his secret lover, all because of a deathbed promise to his older brother-the man I was supposed to marry. On the day that promise was fulfilled, he told me to plan his engagement party to another woman.
For five years, I was his shadow and his secret lover, all because of a deathbed promise to his older brother-the man I was supposed to marry.
On the day that promise was fulfilled, he told me to plan his engagement party to another woman.
Chapter 1
The fifth year was ending. It was the one-thousand-eight-hundred-and-twenty-fifth day since Cayla Bass had made her promise, and the day she had decided to finally break it.
Cayla Bass stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, her gaze fixed on the sprawling city lights below. They blurred into a meaningless smear of color.
For five years, she had been not only Grafton Mcleod's shadow-his assistant, his problem solver, the woman who absorbed his rage and cleaned up his messes-but also his lover. A secret kept tucked away in the sterile luxury of his penthouse, a role she played out of a misguided sense of duty.
And it was all because of a promise to a dying man. A man she had truly loved.
The memory still had the power to stop her breath. The sterile smell of the hospital, the insistent beeping of a machine, and the hand of Grafton's older brother, Justen, growing cold in hers.
"Five years, Cayla."His voice was a weak rasp, a ghost of the warm baritone she adored. "Just watch over him for five years. He's reckless, all I have. Promise me."
Justen Palmer. The man who was supposed to be her future, her husband. The only real light in her world, extinguished in a wreck of twisted metal and shattered glass just weeks before he could give his younger brother the Palmer name through adoption.
She had agreed. She would have agreed to anything for him. And in her grief, she had transferred that devotion to the one person he left behind. She had mistaken the weight of her promise for love for Grafton.
A door slammed open behind her.
"Cayla."
Grafton's voice was sharp, cutting through the silence. He didn't bother to look at her, his attention locked on the phone pressed to his ear.
"I don't care what it takes,"he snapped into the device. "Get it done."
He ended the call and tossed the phone onto the leather sofa. His eyes, no longer cold and dismissive but filled with a familiar, playful cruelty, finally landed on her.
"Did you get it?"
"The acquisition proposal is on your desk,"she said, her voice flat, devoid of emotion. "I've highlighted the key risk factors."
"I didn't ask for your analysis,"he said, a smirk playing on his lips. He walked over to the bar, pouring himself a drink. He enjoyed these games, enjoyed the power he held over her. He was convinced she was hopelessly in love with him, a loyal puppy who would never leave his side. "I'm talking about the Hughes merger. Cherrelle and I are getting married. It's important for the company, for our families. So, I need you to be on your best behavior for the next few months. No drama, understand? I know how emotional you can get."
Cherrelle Hughes glided into the room, wrapping her arms around Grafton's neck from behind. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, her eyes, gleaming with triumph, meeting Cayla's over his shoulder.
"Don't be so hard on her, Gray,"Cherrelle cooed, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "She tries her best. It's just... well, you can't expect someone from her background to understand the pressures we're under, can you? Some people are born to lead, others to follow."
Grafton's expression softened as he looked at Cherrelle. He turned, pulling her into his arms. "You're too kind to her."
The scene was a familiar one. A play she had watched on repeat for five years. The arrogant heir, his perfect high-society girlfriend, and the useless, lovesick subordinate.
Cherrelle's perfectly manicured hand reached out, not for a glass, but to run a finger provocatively down the front of Grafton's shirt.
"Oh, honey,"she purred, her eyes never leaving Cayla. She deliberately took a step back, jostling a nearby table and knocking over a glass of red wine. It splashed directly onto Grafton's pristine white shirt. "Look what you did!"she gasped, pointing an accusing finger at Cayla. "You were standing so close, you startled me. This is a custom shirt!"
The accusation hung in the air, absurd and blatant. Cayla hadn't moved a muscle.
Grafton's face darkened. He looked from the stain on his shirt to Cayla, his eyes filled with a familiar, chilling anger.
"Are you blind?"he spat. "Get out of my sight."
Cayla's hands, hidden in the pockets of her simple black dress, clenched into fists. Her fingernails dug into her palms. She thought of the one night, a year ago, when he'd been drunk and vulnerable, whispering that she was the only one who understood him, that maybe, just maybe, they could have something real. It was that single promise, that flicker of hope, that had kept her chained here. A promise he had clearly forgotten, or never meant at all. The small, sharp pain was a welcome distraction. It was real.
She turned without a word and walked towards the door.
"And one more thing,"Grafton's voice stopped her.
She paused, her back to them.
"Cherrelle and I are getting engaged,"he announced, his tone laced with a deliberate cruelty. "The party is next month. I expect you to handle the arrangements. After all, you know how good I am at planning for the future. It's a shame Justen never got the chance to do the same for you, isn't it?"
Each word was a hammer blow.
This was it. The final confirmation. But instead of pain, a strange, profound sense of release washed over her. She had thought, foolishly, that she was in love with Grafton. But in this moment, with his final, cruel jab, the fog of grief and obligation finally cleared. She didn't love him. She had never loved him. She had been clinging to a ghost, trying to fulfill a promise to a dead man by sacrificing herself to his brother.
She was free.
"Congratulations,"she said, her voice shockingly calm. The word tasted not like ash, but like the first breath of clean air after years in a dungeon.
Grafton's smirk faltered. He stared at her back, a flicker of confusion and annoyance in his eyes. This wasn't the reaction he wanted. Where were the tears? The pleading? The heartbreak? He hated this unnerving calm. He opened his mouth to say something else, something sharper, but she was already gone, the door closing softly behind her.
He scowled, turning back to Cherrelle. *Fine,* he thought, pulling the heiress closer. *She's probably just hiding it. She'll go home and cry her eyes out. She's too obsessed with me to ever leave.* He made a mental note to send her one of those ridiculously expensive handbags she could never afford. That always seemed to fix things.
She walked out of the penthouse, her steps even and controlled. She did not run. She did not cry.
Down in the sterile quiet of her own small apartment in the same building, she pulled out her laptop. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, her movements precise and automatic.
She wasn't answering emails.
She was registering for the Rourke International Rally. An endurance race. A brutal, dangerous competition on the other side of the world.
She used a name no one had called her in five years. A name that belonged to a different life. The life before the promise.
The confirmation email popped into her inbox. It was irreversible.
She closed the laptop.
The promise was fulfilled. Her sentence was served.
It was time to disappear.
My husband was in the shower, the sound of water a familiar rhythm to our mornings. I was just placing a cup of coffee on his desk, a small ritual in our five years of what I thought was a perfect marriage. Then, an email notification flashed on his laptop: "You're invited to the Christening of Leo Thomas." Our last name. The sender: Hayden Cleveland, a social media influencer. An icy dread settled in. It was an invitation for his son, a son I didn't know existed. I went to the church, hidden in the shadows, and saw him holding a baby, a little boy with his dark hair and eyes. Hayden Cleveland, the mother, leaned on his shoulder, a picture of domestic bliss. They looked like a family. A perfect, happy family. My world crumbled. I remembered him refusing to have a baby with me, citing work pressure. All his business trips, the late nights-were they spent with them? The lie was so easy for him. How could I have been so blind? I called the Zurich Architectural Fellowship, a prestigious program I had deferred for him. "I' d like to accept the fellowship," I said, my voice eerily calm. "I can leave immediately."
My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.
For ten years, I secretly loved my guardian, Ethan Hayes. After my family fell apart, he took me in and raised me. He was my entire world. On my eighteenth birthday, I gathered all my courage to confess my love to him. But his reaction was a fury I had never seen before. He swept my birthday cake to the floor and roared, "Are you insane? I am your GUARDIAN!" He then mercilessly tore the painting I had spent a year on-my confession-to shreds. Just days later, he brought home his fiancée, Chloe. The man who had promised to wait for me to grow up, who called me his brightest star, had vanished. My decade of desperate, burning love had only managed to burn myself. The person who was supposed to protect me had become the one who hurt me the most. I looked down at the NYU acceptance letter in my hand. I had to leave. I had to pull him out of my heart, no matter how much it hurt. I picked up the phone and dialed my father's number. "Dad," I said, my voice hoarse, "I've decided. I want to come be with you in New York."
I was the long-lost Donovan heiress, finally brought home after a childhood in foster care. My parents adored me, my husband cherished me, and the woman who tried to ruin my life, Kiera Reese, was locked away in a mental facility. I was safe. I was loved. On my birthday, I decided to surprise my husband, Ivan, at his office. But he wasn't there. I found him at a private art gallery across town. He was with Kiera. She wasn't in a facility. She was radiant, laughing as she stood beside my husband and their five-year-old son. I watched through the glass as Ivan kissed her, a familiar, loving gesture he’d used with me just that morning. I crept closer and overheard them. My birthday wish to go to the amusement park had been denied because he’d already promised the entire park to their son—whose birthday was the same day as mine. "She’s so grateful to have a family, she’d believe anything we tell her," Ivan said, his voice laced with a cruelty that stole my breath. "It's almost sad." My entire reality—my loving parents who funded this secret life, my devoted husband—was a five-year lie. I was just the fool they kept on stage. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Ivan, sent while he stood with his real family. "Just got out of the meeting. So exhausting. I miss you." The casual lie was the final blow. They thought I was a pathetic, grateful orphan they could control. They were about to find out just how wrong they were.
For ten years, my world had revolved around Mark. I went to his lavish engagement party to finally cauterize the wound, to watch him promise his life to another woman and force myself to move on. Then the music stopped. The massive crystal chandelier above us wasn't just glittering anymore; it was groaning, its supports severed, plummeting directly towards the center of the room. It was aimed at Mark and his fiancée. In that last, heart-stopping second, Mark's survival instincts kicked in. He shoved her, his future wife, hard. She stumbled sideways, out of the path of destruction. He didn't even look at me. He left me standing alone, rooted to the spot, staring up at my own glittering death. But I wasn't crushed. An arm like iron wrapped around my waist, yanking me back as the world exploded in a crash of metal and glass. My savior was a stranger, a man with eyes like a storm. He looked down at me in the wreckage and said, "That was an attempt on my life. You were just collateral damage." Before I could even process his words, my phone rang. It was my father, his voice choked with despair. Our family's small business, our entire livelihood, had just been financially ruined. My savior, the man who'd just saved my life, looked at my stricken face. "That was also me," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "I control your family's debt. Marry me, and I will save them."
My mate, Alpha Damien, was holding a sacred naming ceremony for his heir. The only problem? He was celebrating a pup he had with Lyra, a rogue he brought into our pack. And I, his true mate, four months pregnant with his actual heir, was the only one not invited. When I confronted her, she clawed her own arm, drew blood, and screamed that I had attacked her. Damien saw her performance and didn't even look at me. He snarled, using his Alpha's Command to force me to leave, the power of our bond twisted into a weapon against me. Later, she attacked me for real, making me fall. As blood bloomed on my dress, threatening our child's life, she tossed her own pup onto a rug and screamed that I had tried to kill him. Damien burst in, saw me bleeding on the floor, and didn't hesitate. He scooped Lyra's screaming pup into his arms and sprinted away to find a healer, leaving me and his true heir to die. But as I lay there, my mother's voice echoed in my mind through our own link. My family's escort was waiting for me just beyond the territory border. He was about to find out that the Omega he threw away was actually the princess of the most powerful pack in the world.
After two years of marriage, Sadie was finally pregnant. Filled with hope and joy, she was blindsided when Noah asked for a divorce. During a failed attempt on her life, Sadie found herself lying in a pool of blood, desperately calling Noah to ask him to save her and the baby. But her calls went unanswered. Shattered by his betrayal, she left the country. Time passed, and Sadie was about to be wed for a second time. Noah appeared in a frenzy and fell to his knees. "How dare you marry someone else after bearing my child?"
"Madelyn spent years in a marriage built on lies, loving a man whose heart had never been hers. It had always belonged to her adopted sister, Rebecca. When the truth came crashing down, everything she believed in shattered with it. Broken and betrayed, she walked away, determined to reclaim the pieces of her life. But just when she thought she was finally free, Jason returned, eyes full of regret, pleading for another chance. ""Can we go back to the way things were?"" Now, torn between the pain of the past and the ghost of love, Madelyn must decide: trust him again or finally choose herself."
"Cast out when the true heiress appeared, Eleanor was shoved back into her birth parents' cramped slum apartment and slapped with a bill for millions. Undaunted, she exposed her hidden identities and vowed to flip their fate. First, she gifted her swindled eldest brother a trillion-dollar conglomerate. Next, she wiped every smear on her canceled actor brother, shoving him to stardom. Then, she defended her youngest brother's design integrity. As wealth and fame piled up, the ""real"" heiress stormed back into her life, stirring chaos. But Eleanor effortlessly climbed to the top of the global wealth rankings. But how could she shake off that relentless, crazed mafia boss who was hot on her trail?!"
Rumors said that Lucas married an unattractive woman with no background. In the three years they were together, he remained cold and distant to Belinda, who endured in silence. Her love for him forced her to sacrifice her self-worth and her dreams. When Lucas' true love reappeared, Belinda realized that their marriage was a sham from the start, a ploy to save another woman's life. She signed the divorce papers and left. Three years later, Belinda returned as a surgical prodigy and a maestro of the piano. Lost in regret, Lucas chased her in the rain and held her tightly. "You are mine, Belinda."
My fiancé, Richard Ahmed, had been unfaithful. His mistress, Eva Marsh, sent me a provocative video. In the video, Richard and Eva were passionately kissing, while his friends cheered loudly, "You two are perfect for each other. You should get married." Richard's parents were holding Eva's hand, saying, "You're the only one we see as part of the family." I let out a cold laugh and dialed the number of my father, the head of a criminal syndicate. "Get in touch with a team for me. I have a live stream event planned." "Alright. The condition is that you return to Zlomont and become the new head of the Brooks Group."
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.
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