AspaHa

They call him Adrian Thorne—the bespectacled, razor-sharp CEO of Thorne Industries, heir to an empire, and the most eligible bachelor Valcrest has ever produced. Poised. Polished. Politically perfect. But Sera Vance knows the man beneath the mask. She knows Ash. The one who taught her to strip in front of a mirror and call it "survival training." The one who held a gun to her temple with one hand while the other traced the curve of her spine. The one whose back is a canvas of ink and whose mouth speaks sin like poetry. He was supposed to be just a mission. A means to an end. Instead, he became her obsession. Her tormentor. Her lover. Now Ash has returned to his gilded throne—clean-shaven, suited, and untouchable. He's running for office, courting power, and pretending Sera is nothing but a ghost from his past. But she knows something no one else does: The monster doesn't disappear. He just learns to wear a better suit. And he's not finished with her yet. Two faces. One man. And a woman who might just love them both to death.

"Two million a year, no feelings involved, and don't you dare fall in love with me." That was the paper contract Brandon Sinclair threw in her face. Eighteen years ago, Vivian Sterling was discarded into the gutters while a cunning imposter lived her gilded life. Left for dead on a rain-slicked roadside, she didn’t just survive—she was reborn with an uncanny gift: the ability to foresee the exact hour of any man’s death. Including his. When she hijacked a luxury Maybach and held a blade to the throat of Metro Oakhaven’s most feared billionaire, she only intended to trade medical miracles for survival. Instead, Brandon—the ruthless heir prophesied to die before thirty unless wed—made her an offer she couldn't refuse: a fake marriage to deceive his family, while she used the Sterling name to settle her blood debts. To high society, Vivian is just an illiterate village girl unworthy of the Sinclair empire. To her toxic biological family, she’s a disposable pawn. Little do they know: The untamed racer dominating the black-market circuits? Her. The ghost composer breaking global streaming records? Her. The surgical genius snatching lives right out of the Grim Reaper’s hands? Still her. As the fake heiress scrambles and rival syndicates close in, Brandon finds himself breaking every clause of his own contract. Watching her sl*t enemies' throats in designer silk and patch his wounds with steady hands, the icy tycoon loses his mind. "Cancel the eight-year clause, Vivian," Brandon pins her against the penthouse glass, his dark eyes ablaze with raw, dangerous hunger. "You wanted a business deal, but I'm keeping you for life. Run, and I'll burn this entire city just to drag you back to my bed."