LOGINThe conversation at breakfast this morning had left Alessandro irritated all day as he stepped into the soft golden glow of The Golden Glass. Business, charm, reputation—everything he was trained to be waited for him. And Sienna Hudson, blissfully unaware, was just another opportunity.
In Sienna Hudson’s opinion, when opportunity came knocking dressed in a designer suit, worth five hundred billion euros, and bearing the name Alessandro Guidotti, there was only one sensible thing to do — grab it with both hands and never let go.
Alessandro Guidotti was the man the tabloids could never get enough of — the billionaire whose name was synonymous with charm, danger, and decadence.
The man who arrived at every gala with a different beauty on his arm: a model one month, an actress the next, and occasionally an heiress for variety.
He was the sort of man who could close a deal with a single smirk or make a woman forget her name with just one look. Every photograph of him looked like an ad for perfection: the crisp suits, the calculated nonchalance, the women who clung to his arm as though proximity to him granted them a kind of immortality.
His name often floated through whispers of exclusive penthouse parties, adrenaline-fueled charity events, and scandalous affairs that no one could ever quite prove. But behind those headlines lay something far more dangerous — a mind as sharp as his jawline, capable of orchestrating both chaos and charm with equal precision.
Every “leak” about his personal life, every public appearance with a new woman, was carefully crafted distraction — smoke and mirrors shielding the man he truly was.
To most, Alessandro Guidotti was the kind of man one admired from afar — wanted by many, possessed by none. She knew he was slippery, a man who didn’t stay where he wasn’t intrigued, but she couldn’t help wanting to be the exception. He was luxury personified and just as unattainable.
But Sienna Hudson wasn’t most women.
She, the granddaughter of Tyler Hudson — founder and chairman of Hudson Industries — had been the one to hold his attention for six months straight, the longest relationship Alessandro had ever been in.
The tabloids called it his “golden phase.” Some believed the infamous playboy was finally ready to settle down. Others thought she was just another well-placed chapter in his carefully curated public narrative.
Sienna didn’t care what they thought. From the moment she met Alessandro at her grandfather’s birthday party, she had known — in that foolish, breathless way that only women in love can know — that he was it. The one.
And perhaps, she told herself, he felt the same. After all, six months of monogamy from Alessandro Guidotti was practically a love letter written in fire. It was easy to convince herself that she was golden.
That belief — that certainty — was what had brought her here tonight.
She sat in the private room of The Golden Glass, one of his most exclusive restaurants, the soft golden light glinting off the champagne flute in front of her. She wore a beige silk dress that draped off one shoulder, the fabric sliding down her skin like liquid temptation.
It had a slit that began daringly high — a gift from Alessandro himself and it made her feel exquisite, like she belonged in his world. Everything about tonight felt intentional. Important. Maybe even life-changing. If tonight wasn’t special, then what was?
When the double doors opened, Sienna turned instinctively, her heart giving a foolish leap at the sight of him. The Maitre’d led Alessandro into the room, and for a brief second, time slowed. He was breathtaking — dressed in a navy blue suit that fit like sin, a crisp white shirt, and a tie to match.
His hair, dark and slightly curled, framed a face that could command boardrooms and break hearts without effort.
Her breath caught as he approached. She tilted her head slightly, lips parting in anticipation of his usual greeting — that slow, toe-curling kiss that always made her knees weak. But instead, his lips brushed her cheek in a fleeting peck.
“Sorry I’m late,” he murmured, already pulling out his chair.
Sienna blinked, masking her disappointment with a soft smile. He didn’t notice. He was already looking at the menu, his attention diverted as though the evening — their evening — was nothing out of the ordinary.
Something inside her tightened.
It was subtle, that shift — the way he avoided her gaze, the ease with which he slipped into silence. The moment was small, almost trivial. Yet it left an ache—sharp and sudden—beneath the silk of her composure. And yet, it told her more than words ever could.
She smoothed her napkin across her lap, telling herself not to overthink it. Maybe he’d had a long day. Maybe the surprise she was hoping for hadn’t begun yet. But as the silence stretched, the certainty she’d carried in her chest all evening began to unravel, thread by thread.
“How did things go with the acquisition?” Sienna asked after a beat of silence, her voice light but expectant.
“Great,” Alessandro replied succinctly, his eyes fixed on the menu rather than on her.
Sienna waited, giving him space to elaborate, but the silence that followed stretched thin between them. She arched a brow, forcing a small smile to bridge the growing distance.
“Okay, that’s awesome. I know you’ve always wanted to own both a pharmaceutical and biotech company, and Novacore Biotech and Pharmaceuticals is one of the best—”
The sharp clap of the menu closing made her flinch. Alessandro set it down with a muted thud, his jaw tightening as though her words had scraped against his nerves.
Sienna’s heart stuttered. She knew that look — the subtle irritation, the quiet withdrawal. It wasn’t anger that frightened her; it was the familiarity of it. She’d heard the stories whispered by women who came before her — glamorous, confident women who’d thought they were the exception until they weren’t.
They had all noticed it first — the one-word answers, the flicker of disinterest, the sudden distance disguised as “busy.” And then, just like that, they were gone. Deleted. Forgotten.
For days, he had been quieter, distracted, and unreachable, but she had told herself it was because of work — because of the acquisition. She’d been patient. Understanding. But sitting across from him now, that patience began to taste like denial.
And here it was her turn. One-word replies, clenched jaw, the cold distance that followed — they were all the beginning of the end.
And deep down, she feared it had already begun.
“Um… is everything alright?” she asked softly, her tone wavering between concern and denial.
Alessandro stroked his jaw thoughtfully, eyes drifting somewhere above her head. He looked lost in thought, untouchable, his silence a fortress she couldn’t breach.
Then his gaze met hers — those piercing blue eyes that had once made her feel chosen, seen. Now, they only made her feel small.
He said nothing for several heartbeats, the quiet pressing down on her until her chest ached. Then he sighed, long and weary, as if the act of speaking to her was a weight he’d rather not bear.
“Sienna…” he began gently, leaning forward, his expression unreadable. “I—”
Something inside her cracked. She could feel the words he was about to say before he even said them, and the fear of hearing them pushed her into desperation.
She didn’t let him finish. The panic in her chest turned to desperate courage. She felt everything slipping away and reached blindly for the only thing that might hold him there.
“Marry me,” she blurted.
The name hit Kelay like a slap. For a beat she said nothing, her eyes narrowing slowly into slits as something cold and unsurprised settled in her chest. I knew it. I said it years ago and nobody wanted to listen. She had never been able to put her finger on exactly what it was about Maddie — something in the way she'd always looked at Eric when she thought Maya wasn't watching, something in the particular sweetness she performed whenever Maya was in the room. Kelay had filed it away and said nothing, because Maya had loved her, and who was she to plant seeds of doubt in her cousin's happiest season?She wished now that she had."I knew it." The words came out low, almost a hiss. "I knew she was not to be trusted." Something hotter pushed through and she let it. "That frigging bitch!""It's what it is." Maya lifted one shoulder in a shrug so practiced it almost looked real.Don't do that. Kelay watched her — the set of her jaw, the careful blankness behind her eyes — and felt a quie
The familiar scent of makeup remover filled the small bathroom as Maya dragged a cotton pad across her cheek, watching the day dissolve onto the white cloth in streaks of foundation and mascara.It had been a long evening at her parents' restaurant — the kind that left her feet aching and her smile muscles sore — and the quiet of her room was a relief she hadn't realised she'd needed until she was standing in it.Almost done, she thought, reaching for a fresh napkin. Then bed.That was when she heard it.The soft but distinct sound of her bedroom door swinging open — and then clicking shut. No footsteps followed. No voice called out. Just silence, thick and deliberate, pressing against the walls.Maya's brows furrowed. She stood still for a moment, head tilted, listening. The room didn't creak or settle in ways she hadn't learned to recognise over the years. That sound was something else entirely. Someone else.Someone's in my room.She tossed the napkin into the waste bin beneath the
"I won't pay you back in any other way except cash or transfer, Mother." He snapped, the pleasantness of a moment ago entirely gone. "You should look for your puppet elsewhere.""I want you to take Viviana Geralt as your date to the anniversary." She said it calmly. Infuriatingly, serenely calm — as though he hadn't spoken at all, as though his refusal was simply atmospheric noise she had chosen not to register.Alessandro stared at the phone on his desk. For a full, suspended second, the name simply sat in the air of his office, and his mind — sharp, efficient, accustomed to processing bad news with the detached precision of a man who ran a billion-dollar enterprise — flatly refused to accept it.Viviana Geralt."Over my dead, worm-infested body, Mother!" The words left him before he could architect them into something cooler, something more controlled. He heard himself bellow and distantly recognized that she had done it again — cracked him open in under sixty seconds, stripped awa
Roderick stopped five feet from the desk — he had learned, over five years, to read the landscape before advancing further. "Um... It's yours, sir." He cleared his throat. "Your mother ordered me to pick it up for you."Of course she did.Alessandro leaned back in his chair. The leather sighed beneath him. "How long have you been working for me, Rod?""Um. Five years.""Five years." He let that sit. "And in all that time — five years of working in very close proximity to my person — have you ever, even once, seen me wearing something like that?" He gestured toward the tuxedo with an expression that would have been appropriate for something found on the underside of a shoe."No, sir.""Then why," Alessandro said, with the patience of a man who was not feeling particularly patient, "did you not tell her how hideous it is?"Rod blinked. Once. Twice. He looked down at the tuxedo on his arm as though he was only now truly seeing it. "I... She asked me what your favourite colour is."Alessa
Amihan was waiting for him at the door. She had not gone to bed. Of course she hadn't. She'd been standing there, or near there, moving between the window and the doorway with the restless energy of a woman who knows something is wrong and has been forbidden, temporarily, from doing anything about it. The moment she saw Santos's face — the careful, measured expression of a man carrying someone else's news — she crossed her arms and set her jaw."What did she say?" Amihan demanded. Her eyes were sharp, her voice pitched low but urgent. "Her boyfriend did something, didn't he? I knew that man was no good for her. The very first time I saw him I knew."I should have said something, she thought. I saw it. That particular way he looked at her — or rather, the way he didn't. Like she was a presence he'd grown accustomed to rather than a person he'd chosen. I saw it and I said nothing because it wasn't my place and Maya was happy and I didn't want to be the one to—"It's not just him." Sa
"Mind if I ask why?" Santos asked, his tone gentle — carefully so, the way a man speaks when he knows the answer might cost something to give.She doesn't have to tell me everything, he thought. But I want her to know she can.Maya looked down at her hands for a moment, the silence between them thin and fragile. Then she drew a quiet breath, as though gathering herself from the inside out."I caught him..." She paused, swallowing against the sudden lump that rose in her throat — thick and stubborn, the kind that grief leaves behind long after the worst of the crying is done. "He... He doesn't love me anymore. I'm sure..." Her voice steadied itself with effort. "He never really did." She blinked, willing the burn behind her eyes into submission. "He's with Maddie now."The name landed in the room like something dropped from a height.Santos went very still. "Our Maddie?" His jaw dropped open, disbelief rewriting his expression entirely.Maya let out a humourless chuckle — a short, hol
Maya was getting ready for bed, fluffing her pillows with the kind of mechanical ease that came from years of the same routine, when a knock sounded on her door. The sound was soft but deliberate — unhurried in the way her mother's knocks always were, like Amihan was announcing herself without imp
Maya sat curled into the corner of the sofa, both hands wrapped around a ceramic mug as if it were the only thing anchoring her. The cocoa had long since stopped steaming, but she kept bringing it to her lips anyway, more for comfort than taste. The marshmallows had melted into a pale swirl at the
Maya hadn’t intended to run home to lick her wounds, but she felt like it was the only place left where she could breathe without feeling like the walls were closing in on her. Which was why she was currently standing in the driveway, her duffel bag hanging from her shoulder as she stared wistfully
Maya stepped into the lobby of Starlight Apartments, Eric’s residence, and instinctively lowered her head as if that might somehow make her invisible. Her eyes flicked toward the reception desk while a silent prayer formed in her mind, directed vaguely to whoever might be listening above.Please do







