Franco's POV. I watched in horror as she ran to her room, her eyes wide with fear. I knew I had caused this and that my actions had led to her running away. I felt sick to my stomach, with regret, and guilt swirling around inside me. I wanted to call out to her, to apologize, but I knew it was too late. I had hurt her, and I didn't know how to make it right.I stood there, frozen in place, as the seconds ticked by. I couldn't move, couldn't think, as the realization of what I had done sank in.I could hear her sobs from the sitting room, each one like a knife in my heart. I couldn't bear to listen to her pain, knowing that I was the cause of it. I retreated to my office, trying to distract myself from work, but I couldn't focus. All I could think about was her, and the pain I had caused. I felt like a monster like I didn't deserve to call myself a friend. I sat at my desk, my head in my hands, trying to figure out what to do next.I was startled out of my thoughts by a loud bang o

Ivery's POV. I slowly opened my eyes, afraid that the events of the previous night were just a dream. I blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the morning light. But as my vision cleared, I realized that it had not been a dream. I was still in the opulent room, with all of its finery and luxury. And next to me, sleeping peacefully, Franco My heart began to race, and I found myself unable to move. I couldn't believe that this was real, that this was my life now.I rested my head on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath me. I couldn't help but smile, reliving the events of the previous night in my mind. It had been unlike anything I had ever experienced before, and I knew that I would never forget it.I heard Franco's breathing change, and I knew that he was awake. I held my breath, unsure of what to do or say.One thing I knew for certain was that what had happened between us the night before would change our relationship forever. I didn't know what the future hel

Ivery's POV. As my hand curled into a fist, I forced myself to take a deep breath. I could feel the tension in my body, coiled like a spring ready to snap. I knew that if I gave in to my anger, it would be the end of everything. But I couldn't let him get away with saying something like that. I had to make him understand how wrong it was.With a shaking hand, I slowly uncurled my fist, forcing myself to relax.“You can't say things like that,” I said, my voice steady but quivering. “I'm not like other girls, I'm Ivery.”He looked at me and laughed a very mocking laugh. He cleared his throat as he spoke. “The same ivery that was in my bed last night, moaning and yelling I should not stop. What's the difference between you and the others? When I lay a finger on you girls, They moan,” he said with a smirk on his face. I snapped. My hand flew up, landing a sharp slap across his cheek. I felt the sting of my skin on his face, the shock of my action. The sound of the slap reverberated

Ivery's POV. I had to read the words over and over again, hoping I had misunderstood, hoping that I had somehow misread the results. But the truth was clear, undeniable.The doctor was speaking, but I couldn't hear him. All I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears, the sound of my heartbreaking.I looked up at the doctor, trying to read his expression. He smiled at me, but his smile was hollow, empty. It didn't reach his eyes, and I knew he was simply trying to be kind, trying to comfort me. But I didn't want his comfort, I didn't want his sympathy. All I wanted was to be healthy, to be okay.However that was out of my hands, and I was left with a choice to make.I swallowed hard, the words of the doctor echoing in my mind. I had to decide what to do next, and how to move forward.I quickly stood up, my chair scraping against the floor. I pushed past the doctor, not bothering to apologize for being so rude. I rushed down the hallway, my shoes echoing on the linoleum floor. I

Franco's POV. The paparazzi cameras started flashing as the reporters surrounded me, asking questions one after the other. “Mr. Franco, we heard your marriage is fake. Can you comment?” one reporter asked. “Why did you lie to us?” another demanded. I stood there, overwhelmed by the sudden barrage of questions. I didn't know what to say, didn't know how to respond. The reporters kept asking questions, their voices blurring together. I felt like I was drowning like I was suffocating. I was trapped, with no way out.I turned to my bodyguard, my voice barely a whisper. “Clear the crowd,” I said, my eyes pleading. He nodded and began to push through the crowd, clearing a path for me. I walked away, my head down, trying to escape the paparazzi. I could hear them shouting questions at me, but I blocked them out, my mind in a fog. I felt like a failure. I entered my room and locked the door behind me, afraid of anyone intruding. I slid down the wall, landing on the floor with a thud