Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Dr. Ethan Han has always kept things professional with his office staff, although he’s secretly had feelings for his office manager Amina since they first met. A woman he can’t have because she belongs to someone else. But when a new opportunity arises, he jumps at the chance to tell her how he feels. But what will she think about the secret he harbors?
When Ethan and Amina’s pasts come back to haunt them, they’ll soon head down a path of passion, revenge and a chance to change their fates.
T..W. Contains depiction of domestic violence
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter
One
Amina’s hands shook as she pulled the keys out of her purse and unlocked the front door. If she wasn’t so shaken up, from having a gun pointed in her face, she’d be angry at her husband for not answering his phone.
She was a fool to believe he’d follow through with his promise to pick her up after her shift considering she’d been scheduled to work past midnight. These extra shifts at her second job, after all, were a result of her needing to pay off the debt he’d raked up on their credit cards.
It had been a year since he’d totaled his car under a mysterious circumstance, he’d never shared with her. And since then, he took her car whenever he pleased, forcing her to rely on public transportation to get back and forth from work. It was easier to catch the bus and train to get to her day time job, but it was trickier with the second one she’d recently taken.
Working at a gas station at night in a sketchy part of town wasn’t an ideal situation for anyone but they paid a decent wage and she’d been hired on the spot. She was desperate enough to take it, thinking it would only be a temporary thing. Now here she was nearly a year later and this place had been robbed twice. The first time, she had been in the back taking inventory of the stock, while the cashier was held up in front.
This time she had been at the cash register and there was no Plexiglas window for protection because it had been damaged in a prior incident and the owner had not gotten around to replacing it.
The worst part wasn’t having her life threatened while she stared down the barrel of a pistol, but calling her husband after the police statements were given, to come pick her up only to be sent directly to voicemail. She left three messages and texted.
He left her on read.
So he knew the gas station had been robbed, yet he ignored it.
The last bus and train had already run for the night and she was forced to call an Uber, and pay with money she barely had.
Her chest burned with rage to see her car in the driveway along with another car she didn’t recognize. The blasting of loud hip hop music reached her before she opened the door.
Was he having a party this late? On a weeknight? And then another thought crossed her mind. There was only one other car. Could it belong to another woman?
She’s suspected there could be someone else judging by the way Mark guarded his phone like it was the gold in Fort Knox. And how he always had errands to run, yet he’d come home with nothing to show from them. There were also the many times he’d start an argument just so he could walk out the house and be gone for hours and sometimes days at a time.
And each time she voiced her suspicious, she was either gaslit into thinking she was the crazy one or smacked in the face. The last time resulted in a black eye that her concealer could barely cover.
She wore an eye patch to work to hide it and claimed she had scratched her cornea.
For the first time in a very long time, an anger she hadn’t allowed herself to feel out of fear for her safety, encapsulated her. She’d given her everything to make this marriage work, only to be lied to, emotionally, financially and physically abused.
She stormed into the house and was met with the pungent scent of weed. Clothes were strewn along the floor. She caught sight of a lacy pink bra that didn’t belong to her, on top of the coffee table in the living room.
Hot blood coursed through her body and a vein throbbed in her forehead as she hurried up the steps, taking two at a time. The door to the bedroom she shared with Mark was wide open, saving her from kicking it in.
Amina already had an idea of what she’d find inside that room, but the literal breath was stolen from her lungs at the sight that greeted her. Lying in bed, nonchalantly smoking a joint was her husband Mark, buck naked with her cousin Candace, lying next to him in an equal state of undress.
Their glazed eyes were fixed on the television mounted on the wall that played a music video of a rap artist she didn’t recognize. The room was laced with the scent of marijuana, ass and rotten fish. Nausea roiled her stomach and she fought the keep the bile from traveling up her throat.
With her hand over her mouth, she walked further into the room, carried by despair and rage. It was only when she stood at the foot of the bed did they realize she was even there.