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Everyone said Grayson Hartwell loved me to death. I called bullsh!t. So I tested him— Wedding night? Torched his laptop. Billions in company secrets—gone. His jaw clenched so hard, but he smiled anyway. "Whatever makes you happy, babe." Day two? Slept with some guy in our bed. His mom walked in, saw it, and collapsed. Never woke up. He was a wreck outside the OR, but still grabbed my hand. "Hey, don't worry. I got this." Day three? I slammed divorce papers into his che$t. He grabbed a knife and held it to his heart. His voice cracked. "You're gonna be a widow, not a divorcee." I actually laughed. Turned to leave. Then I heard it—that sick, wet sound of a blade going in. I completely lost it. Ran back screaming, and grabbed him. Bl00d everywhere. And he? He wiped my tears. Smiled like it was nothing. That's when I finally believed: he really did love me. Until the night he got out of danger— I stood outside his room and heard his friend ask: "Dude, you don't even love Sloane. So why'd you almost die just to keep her?" He doesn't love me? I'm gripping the door handle, and boom—I'm right back in that sh!t show. Dad wanted to su^ck up to rich people so bad, he got me drunk and basically shoved me into Grayson's bed. When I woke up, I was shaking like crazy, telling myself it was just a nightmare. Like, just get through this and it'll go away. But thirty minutes later? Pictures of me—face all red, ba*rely dressed—were all over the internet. Instagram, Twitter, everywhere. Dad acted like he was so pissed, like he was gonna "do the right thing," and he had people strip me and tie me up in front of cameras. Then he whipped me. Oh, and he soaked the whip in salt water first. Every time it hit me, it felt like my skin was getting ripped off. I almost blacked out. That's when Grayson showed up, threw his jacket around me, grabbed the whip out of Dad's hand, and chucked it. "I've been into Sloane for years. This whole thing? That was me. I planned it." "Everything I have is hers now. And next month, I'm marrying her." Sounds pretty romantic, right? But I screamed so loud my throat hurt. "I'd rather be dead than marry you!" I wasn't kidding. I'd literally rather die than be Dad's ticket to the top. Some a$shole in the crowd started laughing. Real nasty. "Bitch, you were all over his bed, now you wanna act like you didn't want it? Lucky Mr. Hartwell's being nice. Anyone else woulda killed your a$s by now." Grayson put his hands over my ears, talking all soft. "Don't listen to that cr^ap." And the next thing I know, this guy—who's usually so chill, so put-together—told his people to cut that man's tongue out. With everyone watching. He got bl00d on his hands. For me. So how could he not love me? Like, how? I was fre^aking out, ready to bail, when some doctor walked up doing his rounds or whatever. He saw me just standing there and was like, "Hey, are you family? Why aren't you going in?" Inside the room, two pairs of eyes sn^apped to me. Grayson fre^aked. Ripped the IV outta his hand, threw off the blanket, tried to get to me. I got over there and shoved his hand down, trying to smile like I didn't give a sh!t. "You don't love me? Fine. Let's get divorced." "Why keep torturing each other?" But he grabbed me and pulled me into him, holding on tight. Kieran fre&aked and started trying to fix it, smacking himself in the face. "Dude, I'm an id!ot, okay? Sloane, don't listen to me. I was totally talking out of my a$s—" Before he could finish, he dragged the doctor out and shut the door. The second it closed, Grayson kissed me. Rough. Hungry. Like he was trying to swall0w me whole. I could ba*rely breathe by the time he stopped. He looked down, like a kid caught doing something bad. "Sloane... I've done all this sh!t for you, and you still don't believe me?" I looked at him—his eyes were all red and puffy—and I could ba*rely talk. "Then why'd Kieran say you don't love me?" He looked like I just punched him in the gut. His voice got all scratchy. "Look, in families like ours? You can't just go around showing people you actually care. That's how they get hurt." "The more I'm into you, the more I gotta act like I'm not. I act like an a$shole, you don't become a target." "I don't even tell Kieran—and he's my best friend. I just can't. Not about you." The Reed family? We're nobody. Not even close to old money. I've been kidnapped three times. Every time, Dad left me for dead. I clawed my way outta he^ll on my own. Until I met Grayson. After Mom died, he was the first person to treat me like I mattered. Like I was something precious. I finally reached out and hugged him back. And just like that, we made up. But Kieran's words stayed stuck in my che$t like a splinter I couldn't pull out. Two weeks later, Grayson got out of the hospital. Halfway home, I saw a fancy gift box on the back seat. I went to grab it without even thinking, and he snatched my wrist. His eyes went wide—like, total panic mode. "Wait, can you—don't open that yet?" My heart just sank. I pulled my hand back real slow. "Oh... sorry." Seeing my face change, Grayson slammed the brakes, pulled over, and started tearing the box open himself. But I didn't wanna look anymore. Just stared out the window. He grabbed my hand, voice low and soft. "Sloane, I got this dress made just for you." "Wanted to surprise you... You like it?" I turned around—there's this white dress just sitting there, with white roses all over it. White. I fu%cking hate white. And white roses? I hate those even more. But SHE loves them. And boom—Kieran's voice just hit me: "You don't even love Sloane." Like someone shoved ice straight into my che$t. Holy sh!t. That's it. That's why he won't let me go. I looked at him, and my voice came out dead. "So this is all just random, right?" "White. White roses. Even how it's shaped... everything she's into." I let out a bitter laugh. "Grayson, you'd seriously wreck our marriage for her?" He looked totally confused. "Who? Sloane, what are you talking about? Who?" I didn't say anything. Didn't even look at him. Soon as we got back, he pulled me into the yard and had someone bring out this metal fire thing, then he just threw the dress in. The fire went up and lit his face—he looked like a ghost. "Sloane, it's only you. There's no one else." "I had no idea you didn't like that stuff..." "I promise, okay? No more white. No more white roses. I'll keep all that away from you." Three days later, some fancy society party. The room was packed with designer dresses and flashing cameras. Grayson was busy networking, moving through the crowd. I sat alone in the corner, slowly eating dessert. Then I looked up—and there it was again. That white dress with white roses. And Grayson was rushing straight toward it. I walked up and did this fake pout thing, then snatched the wine glass right out of his hand. "Babe, you're drinking way too much. You literally just got out of the hospital." I gave him orange juice instead. "Here, drink this." He chugged like half of it, then gave me this quick kiss on the cheek—ba*rely even paying attention. "Thanks, babe." He smelled like some woody cologne. Sharp. Clean. He never wears cologne. But she loves that scent. And still, somehow, I was holding onto this stupid bit of hope, repeating in my head: Grayson, please let me be wrong. 'Cause if I'm not, that orange juice is gonna be your death sentence. "I'm gonna go say hi to Ms. Thornton real quick." "Try not to drink too much, okay? I'll worry." I turned and walked away. Outta the corner of my eye, I saw him move fast, disappearing into the crowd. Around me, people kept going on and on: "Dude, Sloane, you're so lucky. Your man's like, obsessed with you." "Plus he's been raking it in lately. Dude's on fire." "You guys are literally a Hallmark movie." Yeah. In a world where everyone's messing around, a guy like Grayson—so devoted—really does stand out. But he told me himself: The more I'm into you, the more I gotta act like I'm not. So what does it mean when someone makes him lose control so bad he forgets his own lies? Just then, my phone buzzed with a message. Just one word: [done] I smiled. Then sat back down and waited. 【11540】

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New Hot Book 🌹🌹

Everyone said Grayson Hartwell loved me to death. I called bullshit. So I tested him— Wedding night? Torched his laptop. Billions in company secrets—gone. His jaw clenched so hard, but he smiled anyway.