LOGINWhen Wren’s arrogant boss punishes her with a kiss, she leaves shaken but certain her fiancé will tell her it means nothing. Instead, she finds him in her bed. With her half-sister, Vivienne. The man who swore he would never look at another woman doesn’t just betray her—he blames her. Humiliated and discarded, Wren has nowhere left to go but the one place she swore she wouldn’t return to. Her office.And to Him. Leander is cold,and twice her age. And he offers her an escape. "A two-year marriage contract. A child." And the power to destroy the two people who tried to ruin her. It was meant to be simple. No love. No emotions. Just a contract. But the most dangerous agreements are the ones signed in silence. Will Wren follow the terms… Or risk losing herself to something far more dangerous than revenge?
View MoreWrenLeander came home late tonight.I was in the living room when the door opened. The clock on the wall read 11:47 PM. I'd been waiting—not consciously, but I had been. The penthouse felt different when he wasn't there. Emptier. Colder. The silence pressed against my ears like cotton, and the city lights beyond the windows seemed dimmer somehow.I told myself it was because I was still thinking about something else. The transfer. The name I didn't recognize. The mystery that was slowly unraveling.But that was a lie.I was thinking about him.He walked past me without a word.His steps were heavier than usual. His shoulders were tense. He looked like he was carrying something he'd been carrying for a very long time—something that was getting heavier with each passing year. The weight of it was visible in the way he moved, in the set of his jaw, in the shadows that clung to his eyes.He didn't go to his office this time. He didn't go to his room. He walked to the sitting room and sat
Wren I was kind of nervous today. Thinking back to how things started, I feel everything has moved so fast. Within these few days, I've already met my sister-in-law. And now, Leander's mom?. I got invited to a lunch date by Leander's mom the day after Sorene left. A crisp note on heavy cream paper, delivered by courier. I opened it with confusion. I didn't know anyone who sent notes like this anymore. The paper was thick and expensive, and it screamed old-fashioned but so beautiful. I couldn't resist running my fingers over the embossed letterhead—Voss—and felt a strange flutter in my chest. "Wren— I would be delighted if you joined me for lunch tomorrow at one. The Ivy, West Street. I've already discussed it with Leander. —Celeste Voss" I stared at the note. OMG. Leander's mother. Discussed with Leander?. That was the part that made me pause. He really agreed to that. That wasn't something he did casually. Everything he did now was almost deliberate. And
WrenI didn't know much about Sorren, and trust might not come soon. But all I wanted to do now was heed her words.I also wanted to understand what Raphael had to do with it.Sorren had said the fire was arson. I understood what that meant. Someone had set it on purpose. But I didn't understand everything she'd implied. I would. One way or another, I'd figure it out.She'd also stated the same thing Leander had mentioned the last time. They never found out who did it.But how did Raphael know so much?He'd mentioned the fire like he knew something. Like he had information Leander needed. The way he'd said ask him about the fire hadn't been casual. It had been deliberate. Calculated. He'd been aiming for something.Whether it was to troll or to get under Leander's skin—that wasn't a coincidence.Not when Raphael was involved.The harsh betrayal. The way his face had changed when he'd said those words. The way Leander had gone cold when I'd repeated them. The way Sorren's expression ha
Wren After Leander left, I sat on the living room floor with them spread around me again. I kept returning to the same one. I traced the edge of the picture with my thumb, wondering how many times he'd done the same thing before finally hiding them away. The thought made my chest ache. A knock at the door shattered the silence. I slipped the photograph back into the box and rose slowly, my knees stiff from sitting too long. The knock came again, sharper this time. When I opened the door, the woman on the other side looked so much like Leander that I had forgotten how to speak. Same eyes. Same sharp cheekbones. Only hers were alive with warmth. "You must be Wren." She smiled. "I'm Sorren." I stared at her. "Leander's sister," she added, as if that needed clarification. "He doesn't talk about me, does he?" "He's not a talker." She laughed—a real laugh, easy and unguarded. "That sounds about right." She stepped past me into the penthouse without waiting for an i






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