Fired My Fiance, Claimed My Empire

ion that still hummed in the air. I gripped the ceramic mug, my knuckles white. Imogen's face, distorted in

Greyson: "Imogen is here. What'

nd he was her blind enabler. I typed a brief, professional reply: "Ms. Short requested a

by the speakerphone, assaulted my ears. "Where is that blasted coffee? Did you stop to

m, I am in the process of making it now. The specialized mac

t, I'll send it back. Do you understand? I don't pay good money to drink lukewarm dishwater." She paused, then adde

rocess, ensuring every detail was exactly as she'd specified. My hands, tr

ng court at the reception desk, loudly complaining about the hotel's "declining standards" to any

ushed mine, and then, with a deliberate, vicious jerk, she pulled it a

as instant, a burning stripe across my s

here you're going, you idiot! You almost spilled it on my dress!" She c

tched with concern. "Ella, are you al

little clumsy. Honestly, Greyson needs to hire peopl

throbbed, but the pain in my heart was far deeper. This woman, with her malicious cruelty,

ce, cutting through the lobby's

over his broad chest. His gaze was steady, unwavering, locked on Imogen. He had a quiet au

is. The kitchen grunt. What, di

physically abused." He glanced at my hand, his eyes softening for a fraction of a second, then hardened again as he looked b

dare you! You think you can talk to

h an underlying steel. "And I know what our hotel, our establishment, stands for. It

voice reaching a fever pitch. "He'll have your head, yo

e. Greyson. My fiancé. Wou

visit. A little tour of his kingdom. Maybe I'll start with the private dining rooms, then move on to the executive suites. Per

tion with the mayor-involved highly confidential blueprints and projections. They were

getting my role for a moment. My corporate persona, the heiress, elbowed

eyes wide with terror. "Ella, d

he took a step closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You really have no idea, do you? Greyson would give me anything. Anything I asked for. You're just a disposable little cog in his machine. And if

nse of ownership. Imogen believed she owned Greyson. And the way he allowed her to act, the way he enable