Too Late, Mr. Sterling—I’m Marrying Your Rival

I don’t remember walking down the aisle. I only remember his face. The way his jaw trembled. The way he

He did it in three. Rhys Calloway, a man who’d built a billion-dollar company from nothing, turned out to be

He was waiting on the bench outside the lighthouse at noon. Rhys had offered to come. I’d said no. This

I knew. I ran down the cliff path in the dark, the same path a skinny amber-eyed boy once carried

“Rhys, no.” I grabbed his arm. “You can’t buy a hospital because of me.” “I’m not.” He covered my hand

“Yes,” I whispered. He went very still. Then he smiled-slow, stunned, like a man who’d just watched the sun come

He looked like a ghost of himself. The perfect suit was gone. He wore a wrinkled coat dusted with snow.

I stepped into the supply closet and called her back. “Ava.” Sienna’s voice was honey over a blade. “You look

“You know me?” My voice came out thin. Rhys’s mouth curved, weak but unmistakably amused. “I do. For a very

“Get him to Trauma One!” I shouted. “Type and cross six units. Call Whitaker in. Now!” On the table, under