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The other woman was ME

The other woman was ME

Jaja Lolia

5.0
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Eldoria is a calm and serene metropolis, where a beautiful story unfolds-where power masks pain and love is a luxury few can afford. A billionaire's perfect life shatters when his wife's silence buries a secret, and the woman hired to carry their child rather carries away his heart instead. --- --- Eldoria, a gleaming ultra-modern city built atop old ruins is the jewel of the coast. Known for its breathtaking elite circles that not even its billionaires can fully control. Eldoria becomes more than just a city; it is a living paradox of shimmering wealth, shadowed silence and where love is bound by duty.

Chapter 1 The Villa at the edge of silence

CHAPTER ONE

The Villa at the Edge of Silence

Mia Carter stepped out of the sleek black car and onto the gravel drive of the Voss estate, her boots crunching beneath her. The villa rose before her like something carved out of a dream-stone arches draped in ivy, windows like eyes watching her arrival. It was nothing like the tiny walk-up apartment she'd left behind that morning or the crowded café where she usually spent her afternoons sketching customers between lattes.

This world was quiet. Too quiet. A silence that hummed with expectation.

She clutched her worn leather bag, the one with her charcoal pencils and folded sketchbook inside, though she doubted she'd have time to use them. Not here. Not in this world.

The front door opened before she could knock. A woman with a tight bun and a tighter smile greeted her. "Miss Carter. Welcome to Villa Serena."

Mia didn't correct her. The villa's name suited it-beautiful and deceivingly peaceful.

Inside, the walls were cream and shadow, the floors polished marble that reflected Mia's hesitance. Paintings lined the corridors, all abstract, all cold. She felt more like an intruder than a guest.

"You'll be staying in the East Wing," the woman continued. "Everything has been arranged according to Dr. Shaw's recommendations. Mr. and Mrs. Voss will meet with you shortly."

Mia nodded. She had read the contract front to back, then again, just to be sure. No unnecessary contact. No emotional entanglements. Discretion, privacy, and obedience. But paper was one thing. Presence was another.

The room she was led to was larger than her entire apartment. Pale blue curtains danced with the breeze, and a four-poster bed stood like a throne. The window opened to a sea view so stunning Mia had to touch the sill to believe it was real.

She was still staring when she heard the knock.

Turning, she expected the housekeeper or Dr. Shaw.

Instead, Damian Voss entered.

Tall. Impossibly put-together. His charcoal-gray suit looked sharper than steel, and his eyes-cold, slate, unreadable-made her spine straighten.

"Miss Carter," he said, voice smooth but unwelcoming. "I trust your trip was comfortable."

"Yes," she said, forcing her voice not to shake. "Thank you."

His gaze scanned the room, then her, lingering not inappropriately, but with interest. Assessment.

"This arrangement," he said, folding his hands behind his back, "is more than a medical procedure. It's the last thread holding something... fragile together. I trust you understand the stakes."

Mia nodded. "I do."

Something flickered in his expression-approval or warning, she couldn't tell.

He stepped back. "Dinner is at eight. Elena would like to meet you. Until then, rest."

He left without another word.

Mia sank onto the edge of the bed.

This was real. This was happening.

And something in the villa's stillness told her that nothing would go as planned.

---

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--- Whispers Beneath the Silk A romantic thriller steeped in secrets, shadows, and seduction. --- When Evelyn Roth, a gifted textile restorer with a hidden past, receives a mysterious commission to restore an estate's vintage gowns, she sees it as the opportunity of a lifetime. The request arrives with no sender's name, only a location: Silkenmoor, a manor whispered about in London's underground arts circles like a myth cloaked in velvet and blood. The job promises wealth, seclusion, and a chance to escape the echoes of her own carefully buried secrets. But Silkenmoor is no ordinary estate. Tucked away in the mist-laden cliffs of the English coast, the mansion looms like a memory lost in time. Its architecture is breathtaking-gothic arches, crimson silk drapes, and candlelit halls-but the atmosphere is suffocating. Whispers float down the corridors like perfume, and Evelyn quickly learns that the house hasn't quite moved on from its most tragic occupant: Lady Isadora Thorne, the glamorous and scandalous mistress of the estate who died in unexplained circumstances nearly a decade ago. And then there's Lord Alaric Thorne-Isadora's widower, and the enigmatic master of the house. Cold, refined, and devastatingly handsome, Alaric is every bit the haunted figure the rumors suggested. Townsfolk believe he drove his wife to madness, or worse. Alaric insists Evelyn is here merely to preserve the gowns for archival purposes, but he watches her too closely. Their tension is instant. Electric. Dangerous. The gowns-dozens of them, preserved in a sealed dressing room-are exquisite. But as Evelyn begins to work, she discovers more than frayed threads and forgotten lace. Hidden in hems are tiny slips of paper: love letters, warnings, confessions. Bloodstains have been washed but not erased. One bodice holds a lock of auburn hair that doesn't belong to Isadora at all. Someone, Evelyn realizes, tried to sew their story into the seams. Each dress whispers something new-and Evelyn, despite herself, begins to listen. Drawn deeper into the tangled history of the house, she uncovers a love triangle gone wrong, a possible pregnancy covered up, and an affair that may have led to blackmail-or murder. She finds herself caught between two men: the alluring but dangerous Alaric, and Julian Mercer, the charming solicitor who claims to be investigating the estate's secrets. Julian warns her that Alaric is not to be trusted. Alaric insists Julian is the true manipulator. As Evelyn spirals into obsession, she can't tell which of them is lying-or if they both are. The closer she gets to the truth, the more the estate begins to shift around her. Mirrors show people who aren't there. The silk feels alive against her skin. And every time she wears one of Isadora's gowns, she feels less like herself and more like the woman whose ghost she may be embodying. Is she unraveling a mystery-or being rewritten by it? When a hidden vault is discovered beneath the estate-filled with a final, unfinished gown, and a stitched confession from Isadora herself-Evelyn must make a devastating choice: expose the truth and destroy what's left of the Thorne legacy, or bury it forever to protect a man she may be falling in love with... even if he's guilty. But some secrets refuse to stay dead. And some love stories are written not in ink-but in blood, silk, and silence. --- Whispers Beneath the Silk is a gothic romance for fans of Rebecca, Verity, and Crimson Peak-a story of forbidden love, psychological suspense, and the ways we stitch ourselves into history. Evelyn's journey from forgotten seamstress to the author of her own story will leave readers breathless until the final, shattering reveal. ---

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