Who Is The Main Focus In Stanford White, Architect?

They say marrying a billionaire is easy, until you’re the one standing at the altar. Ethan Steele is everything I swore to avoid: cold, controlling, and emotionally unavailable. But when death came knocking, I had no choice than to accept a deal that would change everything….

In my last life, the Fosters acknowledged me as their real son. But my own sister framed me for causing their adopted son's relapse. My biological parents believed her and threw me out. Not long after, I died sick and alone on the street. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day the Fosters came to take me home. Gracie Foster stood in front of our parents, pointed at me, and said, "Mom, Dad, he's not my brother!" They looked at me in disappointment, then turned and left. I stood there without taking out the locket that could prove who I was, then quietly walked back into the orphanage. Twenty years later, I became one of the country's leading cardiologist. The woman sitting across from me handed over a medical file, her voice trembling. "Doctor, please. Save my brother." When I saw the name, I stopped. My gaze shifted to her worn, haggard face. I stared at her for a long time before finally saying, "I won't take this patient."

I was the girl no one noticed. Until I opened File Case No. 0001. Azrael Atlas St. Claire. They call him “The Architect.” A ghost. A cold-blooded killer. A man so dangerous the FBI can’t touch. His death would shatter the economy. Rival syndicates would burn the city to kill him. He has no weakness. Then he found me. He appeared in my archive and vanished without a trace. The next morning, gifts started appearing on my nightstand. First, a bullet coated in dried blood. Second, ten fingers belonging to the man who touched me. He watched. Followed. Stalked my every move. Then one night, he came through my window. He took what he wanted while I floated in haze. I woke up sore, terrified…and craving for more—needing for more. The FBI saw a fracture in me, and decided to weaponize it. They wired me. Made me their spy with a promised I’d be safe if I helped them cage the monster. Yet, at the first sign of blood, they ran. Leaved me in chaos. He stayed. Now, I lived in his world. My mother thinks the lawyer at her table is a kind stranger. She didn’t feel his hand between my thighs underneath. She doesn’t know he’s been sculpting my life for years, long before we ever met. The FBI wants me to betray him. His enemies want me dead for revenge. But the monster who stole my life? He’s the only one who ever truly saw me. And I’m starting to wonder if that makes me just as dangerous as him. They say there’s a line between the victim and the villain. I don’t think I’m on the right side anymore.

"Don't! Stay right there!" she yelled. Killian’s face instantly hardened, He hated those words. He hated the boundaries she kept trying to draw between them. "You know how much I hate it when you say that.." he gritted, He didn't stop moving, until he invaded her space, "And you know how much I fucking hate it when you step away from me, Elara." He looked entirely unhinged. "If I have to destroy your entire world, bleed your family dry, and break your wings just to keep you under my roof... I will do it." He murmured, with a breathless smile.. "W-what?" she whispered.. "Over and Over Again.." he vowed, his hands suddenly wrapped around her waist, pulling her against his chest. He leaned down, his lips brushing her "And I will ruin absolutely anyone who dares to stand in my way." he delivered the final, chilling promise. ~︎~ On the night of her engagement party, Elara Pierce’s perfect life shatters. Her father is arrested, her family’s empire collapses, and her cowardly fiancé betrays her. Desperate and hunted, she flees straight into the path of Killian Vane, the most ruthless, terrifying billionaire in the corporate world. He offers to free her father and clear his name. The price? Nothing. But in his world, "nothing" is always the most expensive price tag.

The night before our wedding, my fiancée let her so-called "best friend" butcher the gown my late mother had sewn, chopping it into a revealing mini dress. I rushed over with the ruined dress in my arms, ready to demand answers: only to catch their voices through the door: "Imagine him expecting me to wear something a dead woman stitched. What a curse!" Through the narrow gap, I saw my distant, frigid fiancée flushed with color, straddling his lap. "What we did at the bridal shop wasn't enough," she murmured. "Tomorrow, walking down the aisle in this tiny dress you made me, it'll be even more exhilarating." Their lips met. My hand froze against the door, and inside, something broke with a soundless crack. If she longed for thrills, I would grant her some.

Blindfolded and placed on his knees, August has an affair with a stranger—another hook up at the club that leaves him sore, broken, and craving more. Accidentally, he gets a job as a live-in housekeeper in a glass house downtown, just a day after that hook-up. He encounters the hot, right-handed man Levi, whom he can't seem to resist. In the house, everything feels strange, as if eyes are watching and walls are listening. A stalker starts texting him, and he plays along with them. Unknown to him, the house is always watching. Slowly, he started having nightmares, seeing things of his past again, a part he thought he had buried. The house was jogging his memories. He sees a piece of his past in the house, a piece that belonged to his supposedly dead best friend, making him start asking questions about the actual owner of the house. August is trapped with, the anonymous texter that doesn't stop making endless demands, Levi the hot assistant, the flashbacks with the Stranger from the club, and an idea that his supposedly dead friend, might not be dead. This is a raw, unapologetically addictive dark book, where the only way out is deeper in.