Ethan carried a deep, complicated attachment to Maya Residence. It had been his idea—a symbol of the future he envisioned when he married Maya as her live-in husband. To him, it represented a dream of romance and beauty, a sacred place tied to his hopes and love. Even after their first divorce fell through, he was still willing to pour money into the Reynolds company to keep building the Maya Residences. But now, hearing Maya belittle that place he held so dear was more than Ethan could bear. He wanted nothing more than to tear down Maya Residences and bury every memory of his love for Maya beneath the rubble. In that moment, Ethan made up his mind: he would buy the land and transform it into a cemetery. Looking down at his phone, he refused to glance at those photos again. From now on, he didn’t want to see any more videos or pictures of Maya. Without hesitation, Ethan blocked Alexander’s number. 'Stop sending me this nonsense.' Either send me photos of Sophie, or Maya’s vi

“Mind if I take a shower first?” Selena asked casually as she tossed her handbag onto the couch. It landed right beside Ethan’s hand.Ethan blinked, clearly confused by her sudden shift in tone. “Miss Selena… are you misunderstanding something here?”With a cold scoff, Selena shot back, “Misunderstanding? You secretly took photos of me and used them to threaten me. Now you’re offering me money—what else could this be about, if not to get me into bed?”Over the past two years since her rise to fame, she’d encountered more than her fair share of wealthy men and industry power players who had tried to buy her attention—or her body. To her, this kind of situation had become all too familiar.Ethan was silent for a few seconds, staring at her in disbelief before finally responding, “That’s not my intention at all. You might be the idol of countless fans, but I’m not one of them—and I’m definitely not interested in you that way.”“I didn’t call you here to threaten or seduce you. When I sai

It was supposed to be the happiest day of Cayden's life—his wedding day. But chaos erupted when an assassination took place at the venue, and Cayden’s hand began to bleed. Thankfully, it wasn’t the same hand Ethan had broken earlier. Already bruised and battered, Cayden now had to face the added pain of being shunned by the grandfather he admired most. Overwhelmed with sorrow, tears streamed down Cayden’s face. Noticing the severity of his bleeding, Cayden’s best men and closest friend quickly gathered around him and rushed him to the hospital. Miss Julia approached the bride, Maya, and asked, “Maya, aren’t you going with Cayden to the hospital? Why are you still here?” Maya, who had just seen Selena’s video on Renee’s phone, was in a foul mood. She snapped, her voice filled with frustration, “I’m not going.” Her words made it clear—she had no concern for Cayden. Maya’s anger stemmed from the belief that she was the only woman Cayden truly loved—and now, that illusion had been

Affairs like this weren’t unusual in either the business or entertainment industries. Wealthy individuals often worked long hours, rarely spending time with their spouses, which led many to seek companionship elsewhere—usually someone close by, like a colleague or co-star. In the corporate world, it wasn’t uncommon for executives to become involved with subordinates. Similarly, in showbiz, it wasn’t surprising when on-screen couples carried their chemistry off-camera. Given Arnold’s high-ranking position in the company, maintaining a secret relationship would’ve been effortless for them. Clara also knew Ethan trusted her completely—he never questioned her actions or whereabouts. And even if he did, Clara had the experience to cover her tracks, and Arnold was cunning enough to avoid suspicion. Together, they would’ve been able to keep everything hidden. But Clara wasn’t that kind of woman. She would never cross that line. If it had been Maya, she might’ve gone along with it—but Cl

The man, wearing glasses, appeared to be in his early fifties and had a slightly rounded build. His name was Gregory Langston—the richest man in Houston and the owner of a multibillion-dollar empire. Clara was speechless the moment she laid eyes on him. In a flash, memories from seven years ago came rushing back—when she had been his mistress. “Get in,” Gregory said quietly, his tone firm and unquestionable. Almost instinctively, Clara opened the door and stepped inside, her actions tinged with a sense of practiced familiarity. The moment she entered, a light feminine fragrance lingered in the car's cabin. Gregory pressed the button to roll the window back up. Meanwhile, the chauffeur remained outside, making no move to get in. Inside the parked car with its dark-tinted windows, the two sat silently in the backseat, hidden from view. Gregory's gaze lingered on Clara. In that moment, this man—weathered by age and fatigue—seemed to regain a spark of life. Indeed, nothing stirre