Her Heart, His Deadly Secret

Her Heart, His Deadly Secret

Gavin

3.5
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The expensive leather of the car seat felt cold against my skin. My fiancé, Mark, was driving, his hand holding mine tightly, his warm smile promising safety. In the passenger seat, Chloe Davis beamed, "Almost there, Ava. You' re going to love the surprise." "Something even better," Mark said, squeezing my hand. "A final getaway before we' re officially Mr. and Mrs. Stevens. Just for us." But the car slowed, turning onto a gravel road. The city disappeared, replaced by dry fields and a high fence topped with barbed wire. A heavy iron gate blocked the road, guarded by two men with rifles. My smile faded. "Mark, where are we?" The car stopped. The engine cut out, and silence was sudden and heavy. Mark let go of my hand, his own sweating. He wouldn' t look at me. "I' m sorry, Ava." He finally turned, but the warmth was gone from his eyes. It was replaced by something cold. Chloe turned, her sweet smile twisted into a sneer. "He' s not sorry. Not really." A guard grabbed my arm, his grip like iron. "Mark, what is this? Help me!" I screamed, my eyes locked on his. He just looked away, his face pale. The gravel bit into my knees as I stumbled and fell. I looked up at the compound beyond the gate, the concrete buildings. A wave of ice washed over me. It wasn't just fear. It was recognition. A deep, soul-crushing recognition. I knew this place. I had spent two years trying to forget it, three years running from the man who built it. "No," I whispered, the sound catching in my throat. "No, no, not here." Chloe nudged my side with her expensive shoe. "Your inheritance was just sitting there, Ava. Mark and I need it. And you' re the key." "What are you talking about?" I choked out, my mind reeling. "They pay well here," Chloe said, casual. "Especially for someone like you. Unbroken. Pretty. They' ll get the money out of you. And what' s left of you will still fetch a good price." Betrayal was a cold, sharp thing. My fiancé and his lover, selling me back to the one place on earth I feared most. A hysterical laugh bubbled up. I looked past Chloe, past the guards, at the main building. The man I once loved. The man who had owned me, body and soul. The man I had betrayed to gain my freedom. "You idiots," I whispered, the words tasting of blood and dust. "You have no idea what you' ve done." Three years. I fought for three years to build a new life, to pretend I was normal. I got engaged to a kind man. I thought I had escaped. And now, the man I chose to escape to had just sold me right back to the devil I ran from. The cruel irony was suffocating. I was home. And I was going to make them pay.

Introduction

The expensive leather of the car seat felt cold against my skin. My fiancé, Mark, was driving, his hand holding mine tightly, his warm smile promising safety.

In the passenger seat, Chloe Davis beamed, "Almost there, Ava. You' re going to love the surprise."

"Something even better," Mark said, squeezing my hand. "A final getaway before we' re officially Mr. and Mrs. Stevens. Just for us."

But the car slowed, turning onto a gravel road. The city disappeared, replaced by dry fields and a high fence topped with barbed wire.

A heavy iron gate blocked the road, guarded by two men with rifles. My smile faded. "Mark, where are we?"

The car stopped. The engine cut out, and silence was sudden and heavy. Mark let go of my hand, his own sweating. He wouldn' t look at me.

"I' m sorry, Ava." He finally turned, but the warmth was gone from his eyes. It was replaced by something cold.

Chloe turned, her sweet smile twisted into a sneer. "He' s not sorry. Not really."

A guard grabbed my arm, his grip like iron. "Mark, what is this? Help me!" I screamed, my eyes locked on his. He just looked away, his face pale.

The gravel bit into my knees as I stumbled and fell. I looked up at the compound beyond the gate, the concrete buildings.

A wave of ice washed over me. It wasn't just fear. It was recognition. A deep, soul-crushing recognition. I knew this place. I had spent two years trying to forget it, three years running from the man who built it.

"No," I whispered, the sound catching in my throat. "No, no, not here."

Chloe nudged my side with her expensive shoe. "Your inheritance was just sitting there, Ava. Mark and I need it. And you' re the key."

"What are you talking about?" I choked out, my mind reeling.

"They pay well here," Chloe said, casual. "Especially for someone like you. Unbroken. Pretty. They' ll get the money out of you. And what' s left of you will still fetch a good price."

Betrayal was a cold, sharp thing. My fiancé and his lover, selling me back to the one place on earth I feared most.

A hysterical laugh bubbled up. I looked past Chloe, past the guards, at the main building. The man I once loved. The man who had owned me, body and soul. The man I had betrayed to gain my freedom.

"You idiots," I whispered, the words tasting of blood and dust. "You have no idea what you' ve done."

Three years. I fought for three years to build a new life, to pretend I was normal. I got engaged to a kind man. I thought I had escaped.

And now, the man I chose to escape to had just sold me right back to the devil I ran from.

The cruel irony was suffocating. I was home. And I was going to make them pay.

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Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

Mafia

4.5

I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

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