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 89 - Blushes and Bold Questions at the Sterling Manor


The iron gates of Sterling Heights Estate opened silently as I drove through, my nerves dancing beneath my skin. In the passenger seat lay a garment bag containing the custom suit I'd promised Damien. Next to it was a beautifully wrapped box holding a cashmere shawl for Mrs. Sterling—a small token of appreciation for her kindness.


I hadn't seen Damien in nearly two weeks. After Julian's collapse in the courtroom, I'd needed space. Between that drama and the news of my father's imprisonment for financial fraud, my emotions had been a tangled mess. The fifteen-day appeal period for my divorce was still ticking away, leaving me in limbo—not quite married, not fully divorced.


The winding driveway led to an impressive manor house that somehow managed to be both imposingly grand and warmly inviting. As I parked, the front door opened. Instead of the butler I expected, Damien himself emerged.
