Chapter 1
“Leland… help me…” The whisper slipped out before she realized.
“Say that again?” The voice was cold and sharp.
Nadia Woodward’s head snapped back as fingers tangled in her hair, yanking her into a glare of icy eyes. “Jason? What the hell
He shoved her against the fogged–up glass wall, gripping her jaw tight. “Who did you think you were gonna see in my room, huh?”
“Let me go!” She struggled, but he held firm.
“You had the balls to mess with me. Now you’re gonna-”
BANG-
Nadia jolted awake, her head hitting the bus window.
Even now, three years later, that night still haunted her–the hospital stay, the rushed marriage, the mess she’d made of everything.
Then, screams. The bus lurched, skidding into a roadside ditch.
Chaos erupted–shouts, crying, people scrambling for the exits.
“Move your ass! Get out now!” someone yelled in her ear.
She looked down at the smashed–up cake box in her hands. ‘Happy freaking birthday. With a clenched jaw, she climbed toward the emergency hatch.
Sirens wailed in the distance. She saw an ambulance parked near a sleek black Audi. The paramedics rushed out, but a tall guy pushed past them, leaning into the car.
Her heart stopped.
བ དེ ཝཿ ཨཥཾ རྒྱུ ཞག རྒྱུ རྒྱུ འ པ
Jason. Her husband. Holding some woman like she was made of glass. Of course. Abby. His dream girl who’d gone overseas to chase her master’s degree. The one he’d been obsessed with.
སྐུ་
Her hands trembled as she reached for her phone.
Jason Black picked up on the second ring, voice clipped. “What?”
“Are you coming home tonight?” She fought to keep her voice steady. “Can’t.” Click.
That was it. Two syllables, and the line went dead. No explanation. No concern. Just… her, shoved aside like an afterthought. Meanwhile, Abby got the royal treatment–cradled in his arms, whisked away like some damsel in distress. Nadia bit down on her lip until she tasted blood.
Unbelievable. The man who “forgot” their anniversary could recite Abby’s class schedule by heart. Who missed her birthday dinner last year because of “work” was currently playing knight in shining armor.
Pathetic. She’d actually thought–hoped–he might remember today. That maybe, just maybe, he’d show up for her birthday. The ambulance rolled past, giving her a perfect view through the window – Abby’s head resting on his shoulder, his lips moving against her hair.
Something inside her chest cracked open.
By the time traffic cleared an empty mansion.
–
some poor woman had gone into early labor
–
night had fallen. Nadia dragged herself home to
1/3
Chapter i
The cake sat on the counter, smashed beyond recognition. She lit a single candle. The flame trembled. “Happy birthday,” she whispered to the darkness.
At the City Hospital emergency room, Abby was wheeled out on a gurney, and Jason was by her side in a flash.
“How’s she doing?” he asked, his voice low and tense.
Abby’s forehead was wrapped in a bandage, her face pale as death, trembling like she’d just escaped a horror flick. When she locked eyes with Jason, tears welled up fast.
The doctor piped up, “Mild concussion. Her spine’s taken a beating before, so she needs to stay in bed and take it easy for a while.”
Jason’s eyes darkened as he took in Abby’s ghostly pallor.
“Doc…” Abby’s voice was soft, almost fragile, as she pleaded, “I came back to the city for a killer role in this hotshot director’s film. I can’t just walk away from it.”
The doctor yanked off his mask, his tone all business. “You’re in no condition for anything heavy–duty. If you have to work, you need someone by your side 24/7, looking out for you.”
“Thanks, Doc. I’ll make it work.” Abby’s teary gaze flicked to Jason, a wobbly smile breaking through. “And thanks for rushing over to get me and hanging out here. My agent’s flying in tomorrow morning, so you should go catch some Zs.”
The doctor had just made it clear she couldn’t be left alone, and her agent was still a day away. No way Jason was bailing. He pulled out his phone and called his assistant. “Hey, get those urgent files sent to the hospital, stat.”
Then he turned to Abby, his voice steady but warm. “I’m sticking around tonight. You just chill and rest up.”
Abby’s eyes lit up for a moment, but then worry crept in. “You staying here… won’t Nadia flip out? Maybe you should-” “Don’t worry about it,” Jason said, brushing it off. He nodded to the nurse to take Abby to her room, then lit a cigarette, exhaling a slow plume of smoke into the sterile air.
The next morning, Jason dragged himself home, looking like he’d been chewed up and spat out.
He hadn’t slept a wink, and his mood was as dark as the bags under his eyes. Kicking off his shoes, he shuffled into the house.
As he passed the living room, he paused. Normally, Nadia would be done with her yoga by now, flipping pancakes or ironing his suit for the day. But today, the house was dead quiet, like it was holding its breath.
He pushed open the bedroom door, and his already foul mood turned arctic.
The room was empty. Smack in the middle of the bed sat a pristine document, the title glaring up at him: Divorce Agreement. Jason didn’t even flinch. Nadia’s dramatics were old hat. She’d pulled this stunt before–storming off to some swanky hotel whenever she was in a huff, only to waltz back in a few days later like nothing happened.
Abby’s big return and that car crash fresh off the plane? The gossip rags were probably eating it up. He believed Nadia must’ve seen the headlines and decided to throw a fit.
He glanced at the closet. His shirts hung in neat rows, organized by color, but no suit was laid out for him today.
Slamming the closet door shut, he grabbed the papers off the bed. As he skimmed the text, a cold smirk tugged at his lips. “Well, damn,” he muttered. “She’s got some serious nerve.”
Nadia had been out since the crack of dawn, hunting for a new place to crash. If divorce was happening, she sure wasn’t sticking around No. 8 Crest Manor.
She hit the jackpot–a cute little apartment up for a quick sale. It was cozy, not some sprawling penthouse, but the price was right, and it came with all the furniture.
2/3
e
51132 AM
Chapter 1
She slapped down a deposit and headed back to start packing.
The fancy gated neighborhood didn’t let taxis roll through, so Nadia got out and hoofed it.
“What’s this? Strolling in at this hour? Mr. Black doesn’t pay you to slack,” the security guard said, giving her a lazy once–over.
Jason wasn’t big on strangers in his space, so they only had a part–time cleaner. Nadia liked running the show herself–cooking his meals, picking his outfits–and when the house was spotless, she’d give the cleaner a day off.
Their wedding had been on the down–low, just parents and a handful of close buddies. To the rest of the world, Jason was still the guy carrying a torch for Abby, all tragic and romantic.
So, nobody had a clue Nadia was the lady of No. 8 Crest Manor. They just saw her as the help.
“Mr. Black’s old flame is back in town,” the property manager, Ellen Smith, a gossipy woman in her forties, said, poking her nose in while on her rounds. “That crash yesterday? He was right there, playing knight in shining armor. Three years, and you couldn’t lock him down? That’s rough, hon.”
“She’s not totally out of luck, though,” the guard said, smirking like he knew something juicy. “Didn’t she snag some rich boyfriend? So, what’s good? You two planning to put a ring on it?”
Nadia’s steps slowed.
One night, after a screaming match with Jason, she’d twisted her ankle. The jerk had scooped her up, carried her inside, then ditched her without a word.
The night manager caught the whole thing and got it all wrong: Nadia threw herself at him and ate pavement.
To shut it down, Nadia said it was her boyfriend, who just so happened to wear the same high–end threads as Jason.
By breakfast, the staff’s group chat was on fire. A maid landing a wealthy guy? Some were jealous as hell, others just laughed. “Over it. Dude was a total bust,” Nadia said, flashing her face at the gate scanner.
“Guys cheat, sweetie. Look the other way, and you’re set. A rich boyfriend? That’s your golden ticket,” Ellen said, her tone all fake pity, like a housekeeper had no right to standards.
Click. The gate buzzed open.
Nadia sauntered through, tossing a glance over her shoulder. “When I say bust, I mean bust. Big talker, zero follow–through. Acts like a boss but flops when it matters in bed. Why bother?”
She spun around–and nearly walked smack into a car easing out.
A custom silver Maybach, so sleek it screamed money, with a license plate that practically winked. Through the crystal–clear windshield, she locked eyes with the man in the back.
Jason’s face was all sharp angles and rugged good looks, his expression hard as granite. Those deep, piercing eyes pinned her in place, cold and unrelenting, like a storm about to break.
