Part 2
### Chapter 1: Chapter 1
He kissed her tenderly, then bent again to her center, stroking her with his tongue while easing another finger inside. Slowly, carefully, he stretched her, coaxing her body to welcome him.
When she whimpered his name, he could no longer hold back. He moved over her, positioning himself at her entrance. “Clara…” His voice was thick with emotion.
Adrian Cole, the city’s wealthiest heir, hides behind the name Ethan Hayes to uncover betrayal in his empire. What he doesn’t expect is Clara—overlooked, unloved, yet brimming with quiet strength.
She falls for Ethan, the poor man who treasures her. But when the mask comes off and she learns he is Adrian Cole, will love survive the lies?
Complete Chapters 17
Rating 4.7 ( 200 reviews ) Age Rating mature
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Chapter 1
The private jet cut through the night sky. Inside, the cabin was all quiet luxury —from the supple cream leather seats and gleaming polished walnut panels to the faint scent of aged scotch that lingered from the glass by his elbow.
Adrian Cole sat alone, save for the man across from him—Daniel, his personal assistant. The younger man held himself with crisp discipline, posture straight, folder balanced neatly on his lap. He was waiting, as always, for instruction.
The tablet in his hand glowed, each line of the report a fresh piece of evidence. The words, numbers, and charts told a clear story of embezzlement. For weeks, his team had been circling the same problem, feeding him excuses dressed as updates. He’d given them more than enough time, but as he looked at the data now, his patience finally snapped.
He set the tablet down on the table beside him, the leather creaking as he leaned back. His jaw tightened.
“They’ve failed me again,” he said at last, his voice calm but weighted with steel.
Daniel looked up, composed. “They claim progress, sir. They believe they’re close.”
Adrian’s eyes cut to him, sharp and unyielding. “Do you believe them?”
A beat of silence. Daniel lowered his gaze. “No, sir.”
“Neither do I.” Adrian’s tone was final, as though a gavel had struck. He turned his gaze to the window, the inky night stretching endless beyond the glass. “Three months of waiting, and I still don’t have answers. I’m done relying on others to clean up what only I can resolve.”
“Make the arrangements,” Adrian continued, every word precise. “No one is to know. Not the board or the directors. Not even my security detail. When I step off this plane, Adrian Cole disappears. What remains is a man no one notices.”
Daniel brows furrowed almost imperceptibly. “You want a new identity sir?”
Adrian’s gaze was steady, unblinking. “Yes. Papers, records, everything. If I walk through the doors of my own empire, it won’t be as Adrian Cole. It’ll be as someone no one dares to look at twice.”
Daniel inclined his head. “Understood, sir. It’ll be done.”
There was no tremor in his voice, no hesitation. That was why Adrian kept him close. He was respectful and efficient.
Adrian reached for the glass of scotch but didn’t drink. The amber liquid caught the low light, glinting like molten gold. He had everything a man could want—power, wealth, control. The Cole empire, built on his father’s legacy, had expanded under his hand into industries his father never dreamed of touching. Real estate, technology, shipping and finance—every venture he touched turned to profit.
And yet, for all the excess that surrounded him, Adrian felt nothing.
He thought of his father briefly, the old man’s voice still crisp in memory; “Never let them see your weakness, Adrian. The empire comes first.”
His mother’s voice, softer, was harder to recall. She’d been gone too long, her absence a hollow space he’d learned to barricade with work and steel. He was only eight when she died, and after that, he saw no use for things like tenderness or love. Women came and went—a constant stream of them drawn to the raw power of his wealth. He gave them nothing more than fleeting nights and a polite dismissal the moment they wanted more.
His phone buzzed, breaking his thoughts. Adrian glanced at the screen.
The corner of his mouth curved in disdain. Vanessa, Head of Design and Marketing department, brilliant when she wanted to be, manipulative when she thought he wasn’t looking. She’d been circling him for years, mixing business with thinly veiled ambition. She wanted him, or rather, she wanted the name, the status of being by his side.
The phone buzzed again. He let it ring out.
“Another call you’d like me to redirect?” Daniel asked carefully.
Adrian slid the device face-down on the table. “No. Let her wonder why I don’t answer.”
Silence reclaimed the cabin, broken only by the steady thrum of the engines. His reflection in the glass caught his eye for a moment—the distinctive dark hair cut by a single streak of silver at his temple. A mark carried by his father, and his grandfather before him. It was not about age, but a signature of the Cole men, etched into him like a birthright.
Adrian let his gaze drift back to the window. Down there, somewhere in the sprawl of the city, his answers waited. He could almost see the streets glittering with neon, crowded with people who would never guess that the man walking beside them owned half the skyline.
That was the irony he savored most. For years, he’d lived above the world, untouchable, a figure glimpsed only in financial circles and rare press releases. He’d kept a low profile by design—let other billionaires parade themselves across tabloids. Adrian preferred moving in the shadows, where he could maintain absolute control and anonymity.
Now, that anonymity would serve him again.
“Daniel,” he said without turning.
“You’ll remain in contact, but discreetly. No one breathes a word of this—not even if it costs them their job.”
Adrian finally lifted the scotch and took a slow sip, savoring the burn as it slid down. His mind was already moving ten steps ahead. Going undercover was a risk, but he thrived on risk. It was the reason his father’s empire hadn’t just survived, but multiplied under his reign.
What he hadn’t planned for, what he could never have predicted, was that in those shadows he was about to step into, something far more dangerous than corruption or betrayal was waiting.
He didn’t know it yet, but she would unravel him in ways no enemy ever could.
For now, he only felt the weight of control, the familiar solitude of a man who needed no one.
He set the glass down and folded his hands together, voice low, commanding.
“Prepare the disguise. Build my identity carefully—one that fits inside the company walls but leaves no trace. When we land, I’m just another man. And Daniel—” His eyes locked on his assistant, cold and absolute.
“If anyone asks where I’ve gone, you tell them nothing. Not a word. Do you understand?”
Adrian’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles, sharp and humorless. “Good.”
The engines roared a little louder as the jet descended, carrying him closer to the city that thought it knew him.
By the time it touched the runway, Adrian Cole—the billionaire every woman whispered about, the name every rival feared—would cease to exist.
And in his place would walk a stranger.
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### Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Another interview. Another rejection. Another polite smile from a receptionist who knew, long before the hiring manager walked in, that Clara Bennett wasn’t what they were looking for.
“We’re pursuing candidates with a bit more experience,” the woman at Cole Global Enterprise (CGE) had said, with that saccharine tone that meant, Don’t come back .
Experience. As though years of sketching until her fingers cramped, of painting through hunger, of pushing herself to keep going when life kept stripping things away—didn’t count.
Clara’s breath came out shaky. She should be used to it now, but the rejection still stung, settling heavy in her chest.
Her fingers trembled as she pinned her curls back into place, leaving soft honey-brown tendrils to frame her face. Her warm brown eyes, usually steady, seemed dulled now with exhaustion. The drizzle caught in her lashes, but instead of dimming her, it only made her look more luminous—like someone who carried her burdens yet refused to let them crush her. There was a quiet strength in her features, the kind that came not from ease but from enduring.
Home wasn’t much of a refuge, not since the accident that took her mother when she was twelve. Her father had remarried quickly, and the new household never quite had room for her. Her father, though not unkind, had long since surrendered his backbone to Margaret, her stepmother and Margaret’s affection never stretched in Clara’s direction. It was reserved entirely for Julia, her daughter—the perfect one, the one who got piano lessons and new dresses while Clara got hand-me-downs.
“You should be helping your sister prepare for her recital, not wasting your time with sketches,” Margaret had once said, snatching a pencil from Clara’s hand. She’d been sixteen then, old enough to know dreams could be taken just as easily as pencils.
So Clara worked. Waitressing, temp jobs, cleaning houses, anything to scrape together enough for rent and groceries, while her stepsister glided through life with their parent’s applause.
Today, though, she had nothing but a rejection slip and rain-soaked shoes.
Her stomach growled as she passed a bakery window where golden pastries steamed behind the glass, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since morning. She tore her eyes away before hunger turned into humiliation.
It was that moment she noticed him.
The man sat hunched on the sidewalk, hood low, a guitar case open at his feet. His hair, damp from the drizzle, was an unremarkable shade of mousy brown. Coins clinked as passersby tossed in spare change without stopping, or glancing at him. His fingers brushed lazily over the strings, coaxing a melody that didn’t belong in the rain and traffic—it belonged somewhere warm, somewhere without worries.
Clara slowed. She didn’t have much, but she reached into her bag and pulled out the sandwich she’d packed that morning and never touched. Peanut butter on slightly stale bread. Hardly worth sharing, but it was all she had.
“Here,” she said softly, placing it beside him.
The man lifted his gaze, and for a second, she caught his eyes—striking, sharp blue beneath the shadow of his hood. Something flickered there, quick and unreadable, before he gave the faintest nod.
She smiled, small and embarrassed, and hurried on.
Her kindness was automatic, an instinct she didn’t question. She didn’t stop to wonder why his hands, though rough, looked more like a man’s who worked at a desk, not a man on a subway corner. She also missed the watch—half-hidden by his sleeve—that was far too expensive for someone begging in the rain.
What she did notice was the way her chest felt lighter, just for having given.
By the time she reached the corner, her phone buzzed. A text from her stepmother.
Julia needs a ride tonight. Don’t be late.
No “please,” no “thank you.” Just another order, as if Clara’s time existed solely for others to use. She shoved the phone into her bag, pressing her lips together to keep the frustration from spilling out.
She had barely taken three steps when she collided with someone.
“Oh!” The word slipped out as her portfolio went flying, sketches scattering across the wet pavement.
The voice was low and steady. A pair of strong arms swooped down to scoop her drawings from the pavement before the rain could ruin them. Clara crouched, her cheeks burning as strangers streamed past, oblivious to her spilled life.
“Thank you,” she murmured softly, reaching for the papers.
When their fingers brushed, she looked up—and froze.
It was him. The man at the sidewalk. The one with the guitar and the piercing blue eyes. Up close, his features were even more arresting. He had a sharp jawline, a faint stubble, eyes that seemed to pierce through her.
He handed her the last sketch—a rough portrait of a mother and child she’d drawn months ago. For a second, his gaze lingered on it, unreadable, before he gave it back.
“You should keep these safe,” he said.
Clara blinked, caught off guard by the quiet authority in his tone. As though he was used to giving orders.
“I will,” she said, clutching the portfolio to her chest.
He gave a single nod, then stepped back, disappearing into the crowd as quickly as he’d appeared.
Clara stood there for a moment, heart still thudding. Something about him unsettled her, though not in a way that made her want to run. Instead, it made her curious—like a melody she couldn’t quite get out of her head.
And for the first time in a long time, Clara felt as though her story had shifted, even if she couldn’t explain or understand how.
Clara stood there for a moment, heart still thudding as she clutched her portfolio. Something about the encounter had left her unsettled but she shook it off. Life wasn’t going to pause just because she’d bumped into a stranger with striking blue eyes. She started walking again, unaware that the man she had just met was Adrian Cole—the city’s most elusive billionaire, hiding in plain sight.
Her phone buzzed again. Another impatient text from Margaret. Clara exhaled, squared her shoulders, and hurried on. She had a demand to meet, as always.
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Readers can read all books for free, without any ads and give the authors feedback.
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