Her Hatred

My boss, August Ortega, forced me to donate bone marrow to his fiancée. She was afraid of getting a scar.

For seven years, I’d been the assistant to the boy I grew up with, the man who now despised me. But his fiancée, Harlow, wanted more than my marrow; she wanted me gone.

She framed me for shattering a five-million-dollar gift, and August made me kneel on the broken crystal until my knees bled. She framed me for assault at a gala, and he had me arrested, where I was beaten bloody in a holding cell.

Then, to punish me for a sex tape I never leaked, he kidnapped my parents.

He made me watch as he dangled them from a crane on an unfinished skyscraper, hundreds of feet in the air. He called my phone, his voice cold and smug.

"Have you learned your lesson yet, Cora? Are you ready to apologize?"

As he spoke, the rope snapped. My parents plummeted into the darkness.

A terrifying calm washed over me. The taste of blood filled my mouth, a symptom of the illness he never knew I had.

He laughed on the other end of the line, a cruel, ugly sound. "Feel free to jump off that roof if it hurts so much. It would be a fitting end for you."

"Okay," I whispered.

And then, I stepped off the edge of the building and into the empty air.

Chapter 1

The needle for the bone marrow extraction was thick and cold.

Cora Salazar lay on the sterile hospital bed, her back exposed. She didn' t look at the instrument, but she could feel its presence, a promise of the pain to come.

The doctor explained the procedure again, his voice gentle, but it didn't soften the reality of it. It would hurt. A lot.

August Ortega stood by the window, his back to her. He was tall, dressed in a tailored suit that cost more than her car. He looked out at the city, a king surveying his domain. His fiancée, Harlow Hughes, had been in an accident. She needed this transplant to live, but she couldn't bear the thought of a scar on her perfect skin.

So, he had turned to Cora.

His personal assistant. The woman he believed would do anything for money.

The needle pierced her skin.

Cora bit down hard on her lip, a sharp, coppery taste filling her mouth. She refused to make a sound. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Her body stiffened, every muscle screaming as the needle dug deeper, searching for the marrow in her hip bone.

The pain was a deep, grinding ache that radiated through her entire body. She squeezed her eyes shut, sweat beading on her forehead.

She kept her silence. It was the only thing she had left.

After what felt like an eternity, it was over. The doctor bandaged the wound, his touch professional and distant.

Cora slowly, painfully, sat up. Her back throbbed with a dull, persistent agony. She pulled on her clothes with trembling hands.

August finally turned around. His face was as handsome as ever, but his eyes were cold, completely empty of the warmth they once held for her.

"Is it done?" he asked, his voice flat.

Cora nodded, not trusting her own voice. She just wanted this to be over. She wanted to leave.

"Our agreement," she managed to say, her voice raspy. "Is it finished?"

She meant the contract, the twisted arrangement that bound her to him. The job. The endless, daily torture of being near him.

August misunderstood. Or perhaps he chose to.

He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a checkbook. He scribbled a number, tore the check out, and held it out to her.

"Here," he said, his lips curling into a sneer. "Your price. You've always been good at selling parts of yourself, haven't you, Cora?"

The words hit her harder than the needle had.

She looked at the check, then back at his face. The face she had loved since she was a child. The face that now looked at her with nothing but contempt.

Her hand was shaking as she reached for it. Her fingers brushed against his, and he recoiled as if burned.

She took the check. She needed the money. Desperately.

She folded it carefully and put it in her pocket, her head bowed to hide the tears that threatened to fall. She picked up her bag and walked out of the room without another word.

As the hospital doors closed behind her, the city air felt cold on her skin. She leaned against the wall, the pain in her back and the ache in her heart becoming one unbearable weight.

It wasn't always like this.

There was a time before the money, before the hatred.

A time when August Ortega was not a cold-hearted billionaire, but just August. Her August.

He had come to her family as a foster child, a quiet, brilliant boy abandoned by the world. The Salazars took him in, loved him as their own. He was the star of their small, happy family. He and Cora grew up like siblings, but their bond was deeper. It was a secret, unspoken love that bloomed in the shade of the sycamore tree they planted together in the backyard.

He was the golden boy, excelling at everything, destined for greatness. Cora was his shadow, his confidante, the keeper of his smiles. In private, he was just a boy who loved her family, who loved her.

Their perfect world shattered the day his biological father appeared.

Cornelius Ortega was a name that commanded fear in the world of tech. A ruthless titan who saw people as pawns. He wanted his brilliant son back, and he would stop at nothing to get him.

He began by destroying Cora's family. Her parents were fired from their jobs under mysterious circumstances. Her father, a good and honest man, was framed for an assault he didn't commit. Her mother was the victim of a hit-and-run, an "accident" that left her crippled and in constant pain.

Cornelius presented Cora with an impossible choice. He offered her five million dollars.