LOGINAnnabelle's mission is to infiltrate the powerful Bellarico household, with her father’s life hanging in the balance. But as she worked her way into their trust, she found herself drawn to Gerrard Bellarico, the ruthless leader of the Bellarico Empire. When her betrayal is uncovered, and her life now hanging on the balance, and at the mercy of Gerrard Bellarico. they are both faced with a choice that could destroy them, or redefine their futures.
View MoreGerrard drew in a breath. “About what happened in the past…” I lifted a hand gently, trying to spare him the weight of it. “Gerrard, you don’t have to...” “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Please. Let me clear this.” I nodded, quietly waiting. “I never stopped loving you,” he said. “Not for a second. Even after finding out the truth, about who you were, why you came, I was angry, yes. I was hurt, and I felt betrayed… but the love never left. When we found your father during the raid on the Santorini Syndicate, I… God, I just felt so much. I realized how much pain you carried all alone... I knew I couldn't blame you, you did what you had to to survive” He paused and took a breath, his voice catching a little. “But I was a coward. I couldn’t accept you, even though you accepted me, for all that I am.” My eyes brimmed before I could stop them. I opened my mouth to say something, but he kept going, his voice low and urgent. “And when you left, trust me, Annabelle, I wanted to hold
I stood at the edge of my kitchen floor, the polished tiles warm under my bare feet, and for a long, quiet moment, I just let myself feel it all. The clinking of glasses, the laughter floating in from the terrace, the soft jazz curling through the air like smoke. The scent of rosemary, butter, garlic, and slow-roasted dreams wrapped around me like an embrace. Rivera Cuisine. My restaurant. My soul. My home. Named after my father, Philip Rivera; the man who taught me how to peel garlic and how to stand tall in a room that tried to shrink me. I wanted his name to live on, not tied to sorrow, not as a footnote in someone else’s story, but as something that meant warmth, comfort, healing. Something beautiful. The sign outside caught the light just right, the gold cursive glowing softly against the evening. And inside, warm woods, soft lighting, clean lines. Nothing loud, nothing flashy, just honest, just me. I had done it. After a year of intense training at Le Cordon Bleu, lon
It had been a full year since I first walked into the Amari Grace Project building, nervous and unsure, with barely more than a suitcase and a cracked heart.Twelve months later, I was no longer the same woman.I had rebuilt myself, slowly, steadily. Piece by piece. No longer shaped by fear or control, but by freedom, by healing, and by choice.Therapy wasn’t easy. There were weeks I cried more than I slept, and moments I nearly walked out. But I stayed. And for once, I didn’t run.I learned how to breathe again. How to trust my own voice. How to say no without guilt. I began to dream, not for someone else, not to survive, but for myself.And somewhere in that journey, I found my passion again.Cooking.I had always loved it, the rhythm of it, the creativity, the way food could bring comfort when words failed. At the Grace Project, they noticed. I was encouraged to train, to explore it professionally.And I did.From catering the weekly women’s circles, to hosting community brunches,
That night, I went back to the hotel where I had stayed after Gerrard left me stranded on the roadside.Everything looked just the same, the dimly lit hallway, the soft hum of the air conditioner, the faint scent of old furniture and citrus-scented cleaner. But something inside me was different now.I curled into the unfamiliar sheets, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts spinning.For the first time, I saw my life for what it had been.I had never really lived for myself. I’d been passed from one man’s will to another, used, shaped, controlled. Bruno, Gerrard, Sammie. Even my father, in the quiet ways he’d taught me to shrink and please and stay silent.I had never truly owned my story.But now… I would start.A small, brave smile crept onto my face.And for the first time in a long while, I slept in peace.---The next morning, I woke early, my heart steady with quiet purpose.I opened my purse and pulled out the business card I had kept tucked away for months.Dante Amari.I stared
Later that evening, I waited for Gerrard in his room, the room where I mostly sleep now. The quiet felt calm, but heavy too. I guessed he was still with Murphy. I didn’t understand why he was so interested in hearing stories about my past, like he could figure me out from someone else’s mouth. His
The next day was calm and lovely. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and the weather was just right. I was enjoying the peaceful morning until my phone rang. Thaddeus. The moment his name appeared, my heart sank. “I hear Gerrard is back from his trip. It's time you start getting us the infor
When I returned to base, Sir Bruno was very agitated waiting for me, his face dark with anger. “Where the hell have you been? I thought you’d gotten yourself killed?” he barked, his voice booming. “I’m sorry, Sir,” I said quickly, trying to steady my trembling voice. “I was locked up in the Bell
"What are you talking about?" I tried to feign ignorance. "If you don't talk now, and I find out by myself, I would make you regret the day you set eyes on me." He threatened me, and I could feel goosebumps on my flesh. What have I gotten myself into? "Come in!" He yell, but he still kept his g


















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