


Catrina’s world shatters when she walks in on Marco in bed with Davina Morano, his rival’s sister. The betrayal cuts deep, but when Marco helped orchestrate a car accident that lands her in the hospital and makes her lose her baby, she realizes she she has to escape him or risk losing everything, including her life.

Now, with Marco relentlessly hunting her, Catrina is forced to rely on Wesley Morano, Marco’s ruthless rival. Wesley offers her a deal: a fake marriage to protect her from Marco’s deadly obsession. It's simple—a temporary solution to keep her alive.

But there’s more to Wesley's offer than meets the eye. While he promises her safety, Catrina knows he has his own agenda. Wesley wants something from this marriage, something that could shift the power dynamics between him and Marco forever. He’s using her just as much as she’s using him.

Still, as the days go on, Catrina can't ignore the undeniable pull between them. Wesley is cold, calculating, and dangerous. But there’s a rawness to him, a darkness that matches her own, something that draws her in even though their marriage is nothing but a cover.

Marco on the other hand is determined to bring her back into his world, to finish what he started. But Wesley will fight to keep her safe. The more time passes, the more Catrina finds herself drawn to Wesley, torn between the man who betrayed her and the one who’s starting to change everything she thought she knew about herself.

Her life remains in danger as she's faced with the ultimate choice. 






His Rival's Haunted Kiss

THIRTY 

The food on the table looked perfect. Steaming, arranged, untouched. Every dish smelled incredible, but no one reached for anything.
We sat in a fragile silence, knives and forks resting like unused weapons beside porcelain plates. The tension didn’t just hang—it pressed down like humidity before a...

The food on the table looked perfect. Steaming, arranged, untouched. Every dish smelled incredible, but no one reached for anything.

We sat in a fragile silence, knives and forks resting like unused weapons beside porcelain plates. The tension didn’t just hang—it pressed down like humidity before a...

TWENTY-FIVE