Chapter 206
Yolanda followed Simone, her backpack slung over her shoulder.
“Aunt Simone, the short drama scene is really booming right now. Should we consider having our talent without scripts try their hand at it?” Yolanda asked.
Simone was about to respond when Ian suddenly spoke up.
“Ms. Grant.” Ian called out.
“Yeah?” Yolanda looked over.
She turned to face him, noticing he seemed unusually quiet tonight.
“Can I talk to you about Ms. Sinclair’s new script?” Ian asked.
Simone hadn’t forgotten Ian was turning down the role, so she gave Yolanda a thoughtful, sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
“Try and talk some sense into him, will you? If Mr. Rowe didn’t have such a soft spot for him, this kind of golden opportunity wouldn’t even land in his lap. His popularity is soaring, but his list of credits is way too short. After Zack’s show finishes up, mine is coming next, and if he adds this film to the mix, he’ll become an A–list star practically overnight,” Simone urged.
Yolanda could hear the urgency in Simone’s voice. In truth, Simone really liked Ian–he was talented, worked hard, kept his head down, and always acted with respect. Honestly, what manager didn’t wish for talent like him?
“I’ll talk to him, Aunt Simone,” Yolanda promised.
Simone knew they needed some privacy, so she called out to the rest and led them off ahead.
Yolanda walked over to a nearby little pavilion and sat down, motioning for Ian to join her. “Come sit down.”
The benches here were designed in an interesting way–some were higher, some lower. She chose the taller
one.
Jan walked over and sat on the lower bench at her feet. He took her backpack, opened it, and started transferring the contents into his own bag.
Yolanda watched him, and even without a word from lan, she could tell he was still stewing over something. ‘He’s totally sulking again, she thought.
With a teasing grin, she propped one leg playfully across his lap.
Ian froze, hands mid–motion, giving her a sideways look. “Careful, Grant. Your man’s about to show
catch us.”
up and
Yolanda couldn’t help but laugh, leaning back with an easy swagger. “Still holding a grudge, huh?” she teased.
“Like I’ve got any right to be mad? You told me to chill out. If I keep being clueless, you’ll probably kick me to
the curb,” Ian shot back.
With his head bowed and a gentle look on his face, Ian tucked her sunscreen spray into his own bag, left her backpack empty, and finally zipped it up.
Yolanda’s hair was slicked up in a high ponytail, her black sportswear making her skin look almost porcelain pale. Her jet–black hair looked sharp against her fair face, and her eyes sparkled even brighter than the night sky around them.
“Ian, I don’t want you to take this script.”
Ian went still for a second, eyes lowered, the barest hint of a smile flickering on his lips. “Really?”
Yolanda leaned in close and gave his earlobe a playful pinch. “If you did, the female lead wouldn’t be Joelle. Honestly, I can’t handle you getting all close and personal with her on screen.”
The thing about Yolanda–she could wrap any guy around her finger. Just a second ago, Ian was sulking like a sad puppy, and now he was all up in her space, tail practically wagging.
“Ms. Grant, honestly, before I came tonight, I was thinking… If you really made me work with her, I’d just vanish. You wouldn’t see me anywhere near you,” Ian muttered.
He went full puppy mode, resting his chin on her shoulder, lashes down, back all hunched–looking like the saddest, most pitiful guy in the world.
Yolanda reached up and gave his hair a little tousle. “Let’s go. We’ll miss the sunrise if we don’t move.”
Ian practically bounced back to life, grabbing her hand and pulling her up the path. But halfway there, Yolanda caught footsteps behind them, so she quickly dropped his hand and opened up some space between them.
Leo sauntered over, all smug and casual, before firing off a snarky remark. “Well, well, you two again. Guess I took a whole lap just to bump into you both. What’s up with all the sneaking around?”
Yolanda was fed up with Leo and his prickly sarcasm. She definitely wasn’t about to let him sniff out what was going on between her and Ian. ‘Not a chance,‘ she thought.
She buried her head and pushed forward, but Leo stuck to them like some soggy, creepy ghoul, matching their steps just out of spite.
For a second, Yolanda figured he was just taking his sweet time.
Then she caught on–speed up, he sped up; slow down, he slowed down. The guy was totally glued to them.
He was seriously like a shadow that just wouldn’t go away.
Yolanda took a deep breath, spun around, and shot him a look. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”
Leo glanced over at Ian and mentally scoffed, ‘Talk about extra. Who the hell wears a mask hiking?‘
“What, this path yours or something?” Leo shot back.
Yolanda wasn’t about to waste her breath on him. Thankfully, they’d reached the top. The lights from the mountain lodge glowed nearby, and everyone who’d made it was already waiting on the grass for the sunrise.
Leo let out another cold snort as he walked past lan, shooting him a glare that could cut glass.
Yolanda needed to hit the restroom and just handed her bag off to lan. “Go snag us a good spot for the sunrise -I’ll catch up in a sec.”
Saying no more, she strode off toward the lodge.
lan stood there clutching her bag, was just about to take a step after her when Simone’s voice rang out.
“lan, come help us move a table,” Simone called out.
Leo’s eyes lit up, and he swaggered toward the lodge, tossing a cocky line over his shoulder. “Superstar, you better get moving. If you’re late, there won’t be any seats left for you.”
He shot inside in a flash, obviously not wanting to get caught and forced by Simone to help out.
The tables were for breakfast later, and the staff was already hustling around, getting everything set up.
Ian couldn’t turn Simone down, so he just headed over to lend a hand.
Leo headed for the restroom on the first floor, but the door was wide open and the place was totally empty.
Leo frowned–where had Yolanda gone?
He checked the second floor, then the third, still nothing.
Back on the first floor, he pulled out his phone, ready to call her, but before he could dial, someone cracked him hard on the back of the head. He dropped, lights out.
Andrew dragged Leo into the nearby courtyard and shoved him into the trunk, where Yolanda was already
out cold.
She’d been knocked out with something.
Andrew had originally planned to take just Yolanda, but Leo was so annoyingly persistent, hanging around looking for people, that he finally just decided to drag him along too.
When Leo finally regained consciousness, his head was still spinning. Looking around, he realized he was locked in some rundown, abandoned factory. Sunlight spilled in from outside, but inside it was stripped completely bare–just piles of scattered bricks on the ground, a single locked door, steel bars over the windows, and a camera dangling from one of the window frames. That was all.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed someone behind him. Turning around, he saw Yolanda leaning back
in a chair.
Leo froze, and his first instinct was to reach for the chain around her ankle and try to undo it, but almost
immediately, he felt something wrong with his own body.
Leo felt like his whole body was overheating, his skin prickling with heat as if he might explode any second. ‘What the hell did they do to me?‘ he wondered, blinking through the haze.
Yolanda was sprawled across the only chair in the place–a grimy, beat–up thing, way too shabby for someone like her. She looked so out of place, so vulnerable.
But even now, she was impossibly striking. Her pale skin seemed to almost shimmer under the weak sunlight, and her athletic outfit traced every curve. Leo found himself dumbfounded, unable to look away.
“Yolanda? Hey, Yolanda?” Leo called out, his voice dry and low, and he slowly dragged himself closer to her.
He tried to get her attention, his body heavy and off–balance as he moved step by step toward the chair.
His hands were tied behind his back, so he could only nudge her with his head.
Yolanda had breathed in so much of the knock–out drug, she was totally unconscious.
Leo could barely think straight, her scent clouding his mind. He lowered his gaze, barely keeping himself in check as he fought the urge to give in to his body’s instincts.
“Hey, wake up,” he muttered, his voice rough and strained.
Leo had been kidnapped before, but never with someone like Yolanda. How the hell did she end up here with
him?
‘Who the hell is actually behind this? Is it me they want, or is Yolanda the target?‘ Leo thought, mind racing.
The thirst was killing Leo–every step closer made it worse, until he just gave in and pressed his face right into her neck, desperate for any relief.
“Hey…” Leo croaked, his voice barely audible, rough with need.
He felt like he was boiling alive, trapped in a desert, the heat suffocating him. Getting close to her was the only thing that made it even a little more bearable.
Even half–conscious, Yolanda could sense his burning presence against her, frowning in discomfort as she instinctively shoved him away,
“Don’t push me… I feel awful,” Leo mumbled, voice thick with discomfort.
The camera dangling by the window caught everything–streaming every second live for whoever wanted to
watch.
Andrew was straight–up crazy. He blasted the group link out to a bunch of people: Charles, Ian, Samuel, Xavier, Quinn–the whole crew.
But everyone knew Andrew was persona non grata, so as soon as he sent out that link, most people instantly blocked him and didn’t give it a second look.
Andrew was the black sheep of the Sinclair family, cast out and unwanted–no one needed to bother associating with someone like him.
So, only a handful were left in the group.
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
Part 1: The Discovery of BetrayalYolanda Grant’s marriage was built on patience, sacrifice, and quiet endurance — but that illusion shattered in one night. It was late when she arrived at a dark, empty alley after receiving a mysterious message with an address. At first, she thought it was a misunderstanding. After all, her husband Charles Sinclair — a man of wealth, power, and refined taste — would never lower himself to something so vulgar. But when she saw him holding a young woman in his arms, kissing and touching her like a man possessed, every ounce of denial drained from her. Charles, the proud and disciplined businessman, was cheating — and in a filthy alleyway, no less.Part 2: The Scene of HumiliationFrom the safety of her car, Yolanda watched as the scene unfolded. The woman clinging to Charles was frail, trembling, and emotional, like a flower blooming in the mud. The surroundings — the stained floor, damp walls, and suffocating darkness — mocked everything Charles had always claimed to be. This wasn’t just infidelity; it was degradation. Yolanda’s mind swirled with disbelief. Her husband, who obsessed over class and perfection, had become a man of impulse and dirt. She didn’t confront him or make a scene; she didn’t even cry. Instead, she leaned back in her seat, numb, realizing that her marriage was already over in spirit.Part 3: Two Years of DevotionAs she sat there, flashes of the past flooded her mind. Two years of marriage — two years of her trying to please him in every way. She had known from the start that Charles didn’t love her. On their wedding day, he had made it painfully clear that his heart already belonged to another woman. Still, Yolanda married him out of hope, out of love, out of the foolish belief that devotion could melt even the coldest heart. She gave up her career, her ambitions, and her independence, just to prove she was worthy of him. She cared for him like a nurse for her patient — cooking his meals, planning his wardrobe, and tending to every detail of his life. And in return, she got nothing but distance and silence.Part 4: The Breaking PointNow, watching him entwined with another woman, everything she had built inside her — the patience, the sacrifice, the illusion — collapsed. The man she had once called her husband had become unrecognizable. He had torn off his noble mask and revealed himself as nothing more than a beast driven by desire. Yolanda felt like she’d been slapped, her dignity shattered into pieces. But instead of screaming or crying, she felt an eerie calm. Her pain was too deep to express. All she could think was: This marriage must end.Part 5: Charles’s UneaseWhile Yolanda drove home, Charles suddenly sensed that something was wrong. The headlights of a passing car illuminated his face, and a chill ran down his spine. He didn’t know whose car it was, but unease stirred in his chest. The girl in his arms whimpered for his attention, but his mind was already elsewhere. Straightening his clothes, he pulled away coldly. “That’s enough for tonight,” he said flatly. “The company’s got big projects. I can’t afford divorce rumors right now.” His words revealed not love, but calculation — every move guided by image and control. The girl, blinded by her feelings, agreed softly, claiming she would wait. But to Charles, it was just another temporary indulgence.Part 6: The Return HomeWhen Yolanda returned home, the villa felt colder than ever. She had just come out of the shower when Charles entered the bedroom, carrying his jacket. He looked as immaculate as always — tall, handsome, commanding — but tonight, his arrogance seemed cruel. On his pristine white shirt, Yolanda noticed a faint smear of pink lip gloss. She had never worn lip gloss; she hated its stickiness. That small, shiny mark told her everything she needed to know. As she dried her hair, she kept her expression neutral, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing her pain.Part 7: The Cold ConversationCharles glanced at her and asked casually, “When did you get back?”“This afternoon,” she replied.He loosened his tie, unbuttoning his shirt as if nothing had happened. “I was out playing golf tonight,” he added. The lie rolled off his tongue effortlessly. Through the reflection in the window, Yolanda saw the dirt on his back — proof that golf wasn’t the only game he’d been playing. With quiet fury, she shot back, “Then I guess you scored plenty of holes. Congrats.”Her sarcasm caught him off guard. For the first time, he frowned, slightly unsettled. He wasn’t used to this tone from her — the woman who once worshiped him now sounded indifferent, almost mocking.Part 8: His Cruel ArroganceInstead of apologizing, Charles smirked and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Are you mad? I told you when we got married that I didn’t love you. If you’re that unhappy, find someone else to cheat with.” His words cut through her like a blade. It wasn’t just betrayal anymore — it was humiliation. He treated her heartbreak as an inconvenience, as if her pain were irrelevant. Inside, Yolanda’s chest felt like it was being strangled with wire, every breath searing. Yet she stayed silent. Her quietness, once a sign of love, now turned into armor.Part 9: The Memory of InnocenceIn that moment, Yolanda’s mind drifted back to when she first met Charles. She was young, freshly adopted into the Grant family, and he was already the picture of perfection — disciplined, confident, untouchable. Back then, she looked at him with admiration and love. To her, he was everything she aspired to be. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that this same man would someday make her feel worthless. All those years of love, of marriage, of giving — they now felt like a cruel joke.Part 10: A New Beginning Hidden in the Word “Fine”Charles chuckled when she finally said, “Fine.” To him, it was just another empty threat, another outburst that would fade with time. He kissed her cheek, confident that her love would keep her shackled to him forever. What he didn’t realize was that this time, “Fine” wasn’t surrender — it was goodbye. Behind her calm eyes, Yolanda had already made her decision. The love that once bound her had turned to ash, and from that ash, something new was forming — strength.Chapter 1 ends with Yolanda’s quiet determination to take back her life. She won’t cry or beg anymore. This time, she’ll walk away — not as a broken wife, but as a woman reborn through betrayal.
