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I was nineteen the first time Cole Whitfield broke me. Not with cruelty. With a single word. Why. Not did you — why. Like the answer was already settled and he just wanted the story to make sense. I told him the truth anyway. He said nothing that mattered. So I picked up my bag, walked out of his apartment, and decided that a man who trusted a rumor over two years of me wasn’t worth a correction. I spent the next two years becoming someone I actually liked. New city. Graduate program. A published paper with my name on it. I was done with Cole Whitfield in every way a person can be done. Then I walked into Seminar Room 114 and he was sitting right there, gray eyes already on the door, like some part of him knew. I sat down. I opened my notebook. I did not look up. Here’s the thing about studying how people form beliefs: you understand exactly why he believed it. That doesn’t mean you forgive it. That doesn’t mean two years of silence disappear because he’s learned how to look at you like he’s sorry. He wants a conversation. I want my degree. But the campus is small, the seminar table is round, and the boy who broke my heart at nineteen is doing everything right at twenty-one — and I’m starting to understand that composed isn’t the same thing as healed. I hate that I still know the exact sound of his voice.

My mother-in-law could not understand me. Before my business trip, I repeatedly told her not to touch anything in my study, but she mixed up the contract I needed. As a result, I lost a million-dollar order and was fired from my company. To make up for her mistake, she promised she would take care of my child and help me find another job. I froze my milk, labeled everything with notes, and gave her detailed instructions on timing and measurements. However, when my baby ended up in the hospital, I found out that she had thrown out all the milk and fed my baby expired formula instead. Even worse, she fed my baby peanuts behind my back, causing my baby to suffocate and die. Afterward, she wailed, "That was my granddaughter! How could I not care? If I could, I'd die with her..." My husband slapped me, shouting, "My mom worked so hard to take care of the child, and you want to drive her to her death? She's an old woman. It's not easy for her!" My sister-in-law came over too, calling me ungrateful and blaming me for treating an elderly woman badly. She claimed I deserved to be childless and alone. However, they did not know how many times I had stopped my mother-in-law from causing trouble and harm to them. I was driven to depression by them and eventually sent to a mental institution, where I was tortured to death. If I had the chance to do it again, I would protect my child and myself and stop preventing my mother-in-law from causing chaos for others. I would watch her bring equal destruction to each one of them!

Silent, unforgiving and strikingly gorgeous, Rylan Parker is a cold-hearted businessman. An intimidating CEO, perfectly fitted in tailored suits and with a soft side reserved only for his little daughter. He can't afford to fall for anyone and definitely not for the blue-eyed blonde he met at the diner. But when his grandfather's will demands he gets himself a wife, a contract-marriage seems to be the only option. Living under the same roof with the woman he is undeniably attracted to can't be that hard! He just had to make sure of one thing. He does not fall for his sensitive little wife. But that was never really a choice, was it? * * * * Sweet, charming and affectionate, Elena Smith is mostly an emotional mess. Between working two jobs and worrying about her father’s medical bills, she has no time for relationships. But when the hot, arrogant billionaire puts forward a proposition, she’s left to make a choice, a difficult one. The fact that he is ridiculously attractive wasn’t a reason enough for Elena to put her signature on a marriage-contract with a complete stranger. But her father?....Perhaps. What’s two years anyways? Just a little too much time to come out of this with her heart unscathed.

Parole is Shaw Carter’s final shot at freedom, and he doesn’t want to lose it. After a felony conviction nearly cost him everything, the path forward is narrow—keep his head down, stay out of trouble, and survive long enough to earn his life back. It would be an easy task if he wasn’t placed in the mayor’s custody, and is forced to share the same apartment with his son. Lucas Hale is everything Shaw should avoid. He’s sharp-tongued, infuriatingly composed, and far too comfortable pushing Shaw to his limits. From the very first night, it’s clear Lucas doesn’t want Shaw there. Every word that came out of Lucas' mouth was a provocation. Shaw tells himself it doesn’t matter. He can endure anything for a few months. But tension has a way of twisting. What starts as hostility quickly turns into something far more dangerous. Their fights grow closer and sharper, charged with something neither of them wants to name. Their moral lines blur. Control slips. And suddenly, the one thing Shaw can’t afford becomes the one thing he can’t stay away from. Because Lucas isn’t just getting under his skin, he’s unraveling him. But beneath the tension and the touching and everything neither of them will say out loud, Lucas is carrying a secret, one that doesn’t just connect him to Shaw’s past. It is Shaw’s past. And when the truth finally surfaces, Shaw will have to decide if the man he’s falling for is his salvation or the reason he never should have been free at all.

In the twenty years I was bound to my host, this was the nine hundred and ninety-ninth time I had watched him argue with Vivian Hale. The meal he had carefully prepared was smashed all over the floor. His eyes were red as he nearly shouted at her. "Why do you choose him every single time? You divorced him, remember? I am your husband!" Vivian remained calm, as if she had known all along that my host would make a scene. "So what if we divorced? I have a child with him. I cannot just ignore him." That one careless sentence left my host sitting frozen in place for a long, long time. Long enough for the sky outside to go completely dark. There had been countless moments like this before, but he had always gritted his teeth and held on. I thought this time would be no different. Until my host suddenly asked me, "What happens if I abandon the mission?"

I chase my six-year-old daughter out of the house on a cold winter day. I cut her new clothes to pieces and dirty her dainty little face with mud. Then, I give her all my savings. She looks at me tearfully and reaches out for me, wanting me to hold her. However, I harden my heart and push her away, saying, "Leave! Go to Bowen Group and look for their CEO, Logan Bowen. Show him my death certificate and your DNA test—he'll take you in." She sobs while looking at me. "Don't you want me anymore, Mommy? Let's go look for Daddy together." After a brief silence, I say, "I can't go with you. I lied to him back then to have you." Yes, I'm a liar. I orchestrated everything from meeting Logan, dating him, to ultimately leaving him with his child in my womb. Even the death certificate I've given my daughter is fake. From beginning to end, I've lied to him about everything except our daughter.