Claire Winters

Three days. That’s how close I was to marrying Alistair, the man I’d loved for six years, the man whose life I’d literally saved with my own rare blood. I was just admiring the final pearl on my wedding dress, a gown I’d poured my soul into, when he called.

The wedding? Off. He was marrying my stepsister, Ivy. Her dying wish, he said. Six months to live, maybe less.

The kicker? He’d already taken my wedding dress from my studio for her.

Just like that, six years, countless transfusions, our shared dreams – all tossed aside for the girl who’d made my life a living hell since childhood. He even offered me “compensation,” as if my future had a price tag.

But if Alistair and Ivy thought I’d just crumble, they seriously underestimated me. They wanted my fiancé? Fine. But it would cost them. First, our multi-million-dollar fashion company, Evening Gala – built on my designs, my vision. He signed it over. Then, a cool million for the stolen dress. He paid. Another million for the wedding jewelry they dared to ask me to hand over for Ivy. Cha-ching.

You’d think they’d learn. But no. Their next proposal was the most insulting yet: Alistair actually suggested that I should just wait. That after Ivy’s ‘inevitable’ passing in a few months, he and I could just pick up where we left off, have an even better wedding. Seriously?

Enough was enough. If Ivy wanted to play bride with my life, she was going to get a taste of what happens when you push someone too far. Let's just say her hospital room celebration involved a lot more smoke, water, and screaming than she bargained for, all thanks to a little wedding gift from yours truly.

Now they know I’m not the same Hazel they could walk all over. I’ve got my company, a pile of their cash, and a whole lot of scores to settle. They think this is over? This game of revenge is just getting started. And believe me, I play to win.

The Billionaire's Dangerous Redemption

"I wouldn't call it watching," Sebastian said, his eyes steady on mine. "More like being aware of your existence."


I raised an eyebrow. "That's a fine line."


"Fair enough." He smiled slightly. "But to answer your question—no, I haven't been stalking you for twenty years."


"Then how did we end up at the same events? Same circles?" I pressed, needing to understand this connection that spanned decades.


Sebastian leaned against the balcony railing. "We're alumni of the same university."


The revelation hit me like a physical force. "What? I would have remembered seeing you there."


"I saw you," he said quietly. "Your first day of college. You were standing in the main quad during orientation, looking both terrified and determined."


I tried to picture him there, younger but still imposing. "I don't recall seeing you."


"I was finishing my second year of graduate studies by then. Your path and mine rarely crossed." His voice held regret. "I wanted to approach you, but..."


The Genius I Almost Knew