Reese

After six years of loving Julian Grayson and literally keeping him alive with her rare blood donations, Hazel Ashworth is just three days away from becoming his wife when he calls to cancel their wedding. 
The reason? Her half-sister Ivy has been diagnosed with terminal cancer and her dying wish is to marry Julian instead. Hazel watches in horror as Julian takes her handcrafted wedding dress to Ivy, who plans to wear it while stealing not just Hazel's fiancé, but her entire wedding—same venue, same date, even the same cake flavor. 
It's a devastating replay of their childhood, where Ivy's mother Eleanor destroyed Hazel's family by seducing her father and driving her mother to suicide, then spent years pushing Hazel out while Ivy took everything that was once hers. 
But this time, Hazel refuses to break like her mother did. She demands Julian's entire company and two million dollars as compensation, then shows up at the hospital to deliver Ivy's "wedding gift" in the most explosive way possible.
As Ivy plays the perfect dying victim and Julian remains blind to her manipulation, Hazel begins to suspect that her half-sister's illness might not be as terminal as everyone believes. When Ivy has the audacity to ask Hazel to witness her wedding to Julian, the gloves come off completely. 
Now Hazel must decide how far she's willing to go to expose the truth and reclaim what's rightfully hers, even if it means destroying the man she once loved in the process.

The Billionaire Backs Me Up

Chapter 130 - Intimate Promises, Desperate Pleas


My hands trembled slightly as I unlocked my apartment door. This was the first time I'd invited Damien inside—into my personal space, my sanctuary. A place no man had visited since Julian and I broke up.


"It's not much," I said, flicking on the lights. My apartment was small but tastefully decorated, reflecting my design aesthetic with its minimalist furniture and carefully chosen accent pieces. 


"It's perfect," Damien said, stepping inside and looking around with genuine interest. "It's very you."


I watched nervously as he moved through my living room, examining the framed fashion sketches on my walls and the small collection of art books on my coffee table. 


"Would you like something to drink?" I offered, trying to calm my jittery nerves. "Wine? Coffee?"


"Wine would be nice," he replied with a warm smile.
