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Sara's life is tough after her ex-boyfriend took all her money. She works hard to care for her sick mother and support her sister in college. In a moment of weakness, she has a one-night affair with a man who turns out to be her boss, the CEO. As their relationship grows, Sara feels pressured to satisfy his wild needs. The CEO then proposes marriage, but what kind of marriage will it be? Sara must decide whether to accept for her family's security or break free from his control.
I slam my hand on the bar, the sharp sound cutting through the low hum of chatter in the lounge. "You jerk!" I yell, my voice louder than I intend. The room falls silent, and every pair of eyes turns toward me. Great. Just what I need-an audience. But I'm too far gone to care.
The alcohol hums in my veins, making my frustration feel bigger, hotter, impossible to contain. I know I'm drunk, but honestly, I don't give a damn. The sting of betrayal is sharper than any hangover could ever be.
I feel the weight of their stares, but most of them aren't curious-they're just gawking. It's the same thing every time I walk in here. Tight red dress, hair slicked back, the olive glow of my skin catching the dim lights. I know I'm a spectacle, but tonight, it just pisses me off. They're all too busy checking me out to notice the train wreck I've become.
The Sky Lounge is packed, as usual. Ladies' Night means cheap drinks, and right now, that's the only silver lining in my life. I've been coming here way too often lately, but can you blame me? Two days ago, I found out my ex-James, the con artist of the century-scammed me out of my entire savings. Every penny I spent years working my ass off for, gone.
"Married in Bali," I mutter bitterly under my breath, taking a sip of my beer. What a load of crap. The bastard had me dreaming of honeymoons and forever, all while plotting to drain my account. I should've seen the signs. The charm, the promises-it was all a game to him. And I lost.
"Mark!" I call out to the bartender, raising my empty bottle. "Another beer!"
Mark slides it over, but his face is a mix of annoyance and concern. "Careful, Sara. You're already tipsy. Don't want to lose your phone or wallet again."
I roll my eyes, waving him off. "Who cares? I just want to get drunk."
He leans on the counter, giving me that look-half warning, half pity. "Look, I'm not carrying you home this time. Call James or something."
I glare at him, the mention of James making my blood boil. "Ugh, don't mention that idiot!" I snap, taking a swig. "Just bring me another."
"You're on your fourth bottle," he points out, his voice dripping with disapproval. "Maybe take it slow."
"Mind your own business, Mark," I fire back, slamming the bottle down. The sound echoes in my ears. All I can think about is James. His smug face, his lies, his complete lack of shame.
The anger bubbles up, and before I can stop myself, I'm shouting. "James, you scumbag! You used me! You think you can just steal from me and walk away? You've got no shame!" My voice is slurred, loud enough to make heads turn, but I don't care.
"Sara," Mark says, his voice softer now, like he's trying to calm a wild animal. "You need to head home before you make things worse."
I whip around to face him, my vision slightly blurry but my fury crystal clear. "Who are you to tell me what to do?" My voice is sharp, the alcohol amplifying my defiance. "You don't control me!"
Mark sighs, his shoulders slumping like he's already given up. "If you overdo it and something happens, don't expect me to bail you out."
I ignore him, holding up a finger with a drunken grin. "Mark, one more beer!" I demand, swaying slightly. My world might be falling apart, but tonight, I'm determined to forget. Or at least drink until I can't feel it anymore.
Mark doesn't want to give me the fifth bottle of beer. I can see it on his face-the tight line of his mouth, the way his thick brows knit together in frustration. He's my friend, sure, but he's also a bartender. And bartenders? They're supposed to do what customers ask.
Still, he slams the bottle on the bar with a little too much force, his lips pressing together in obvious irritation. I snatch it up immediately, popping the cap with shaky fingers. The beer spills into my glass, and I take a long sip, ignoring the way my face flushes even hotter.
"Thanks, Mark," I say, my voice loud and uneven. "You're the best."
"Yeah, sure," he mutters, already turning away to wipe down glasses. "You're crazy, Sara. You look like hell when you're drunk."
I scoff, nearly choking on my drink. "Me? Do you know who I am, Mark? I'm the best secretary in Petersson Company! The best!"
Mark doesn't even look up, his voice dripping with sarcasm. " wow"
I climb onto the barstool like it's a podium. "My achievements speak for themselves. Everyone knows I'm Boss Peter's favorite. Everyone." My voice rises, drawing a few amused glances from the crowd.
Mark doesn't respond. He's already gone back to his glasses, pretending I'm not making a scene. Typical Mark. He always avoids confrontation, especially when I'm involved. But that doesn't mean he's right.
The night buzzes around me. The Sky Lounge is alive-music thumping, laughter ringing out, people dancing like they don't have work in the morning. The DJ turns the volume up another notch, and the bass practically vibrates through my chest.
The bottle's empty before I realize it, and I hold it out to Mark. "Another one," I demand, slurring just enough to make him frown even deeper.
"fifth bottles, Sara. You're out of your mind. You've had enough," he says sharply, finally looking me in the eye. "Go home."
"Go home?" I laugh bitterly, leaning over the bar. "What's your problem? I'm paying for it, aren't I? Who do you think keeps you employed, huh?"
His jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think he's going to lose it. But he exhales sharply instead, his tone low and steady. "I'm your friend, Sara. That's my problem. Look at yourself. Do you think this is okay? You're going to regret it tomorrow, and you know it."
I roll my eyes, waving him off. "Stop lecturing me, Mark. You're not my dad."
"I'm not your dad," he snaps, his voice finally rising. "But if you think I'm giving you another bottle, you're wrong. Get some water. Lemonade. Whatever. You're done with alcohol for the night."
I push off the bar with a sneer, stumbling slightly as I head for the dance floor. "Whatever, Mark. You're no fun."
The crowd swallows me up, and I lose myself in the music. My hair comes undone, spilling over my shoulders as I move to the beat, letting the alcohol numb everything-Mark's judgment, my ex's betrayal, my own stupidity for letting it all get to me.
The tight red dress, slick with sweat as I throw myself into the rhythm. Around me, people are just as drunk, just as wild, and it's freeing. For a moment, nothing else matters.
Then I feel it.
A pair of eyes, sharp and unwavering, locked on me. I glance up, my movements slowing, and meet his gaze.
He's stunning. Blonde hair, wavy and perfectly messy. Blue eyes that seem to pierce through the haze of alcohol. Broad shoulders, an easy smile. He doesn't belong here-that much is clear. He's too polished, too confident.
But he's watching me, and I can't look away.
Left for dead after her husband's ruthless betrayal, Genevieve Hartwell was supposed to be gone forever. But some women rise from the ashes stronger than ever. With a new identity and a heart fueled by vengeance, she's back-ready to take down the man who stole her life. But as she digs deeper, Genevieve uncovers secrets that shatter her all over again. Love turned to fury, trust broken beyond repair-now, it's her turn to destroy everything in her path.
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