icon 0
icon TOP UP
rightIcon
icon Reading History
rightIcon
icon Sign out
rightIcon
icon Get the APP
rightIcon

Five Million Dollars To Erase You

Chapter 2 

Word Count: 820    |    Released on: 03/11/2026

ia's

entrance hall was just striking m

oyer, tugging loose his da

the living room sofa in the

wed slightly w

anced at the luxury watch on h

needed dinner," I said evenly,

. "I told you weeks ago, Amelia - you don't need to wait up for me. Y

t later the study door clicked shut, the

board meetings ran, he would cal

from my favorite bakery downtown and sit at

e day I turned eighteen and

e of tenderness he had ever given me, re

he pot of stone-cold stew with fo

mouthfuls of cold rice, swallowed the

on his s

me

ny desk, scrolling through fin

arded, his whole

? If you're here ab

the master guest room

ingers hovering a

ha

in the eye. "Brenda comes over often now, and that room gets the best light and ha

al seconds, searching my face f

showed

da did mention the suite gets good light - it would make a fine d

ight,"

the door, and walked in

entle cream with his own hands, because after the a

lived under this roof, I would alwa

n unwanted guest who ha

wo suitcases and dragged them down the long

, a bare wooden table, and a sma

my existence had been er

l letter, and the bank transfer receipts into

ing room sofa, leafing

and nodded, po

ernoon, M

e set down the documen

ibly stung by the unbe

at the heavy snow falling on the lawn. "The roads are iced o

sliding my hands into my coa

rising with a frown. "What is t

nswer, the front

te fur coat, stray snowflakes

me, looped her arms around Chan

her voice syrupy and bright. "The diamond ne

laxed slightly, and he sl

t the necklace,"

door, and walked out into the s

Claim Your Bonus at the APP

Open
Five Million Dollars To Erase You
Five Million Dollars To Erase You
“The year I turned eight, my parents were killed in a car crash, and seventeen-year-old Channing took me in and raised me with everything he had for ten full years. But from the moment I confessed my feelings to him at eighteen, the look in his eyes held nothing but undisguised disgust. To make me give up once and for all, he brought home his socialite bride, Brenda, and handed her my unpublished paintings. Overnight, I became a shameless plagiarist, condemned by the entire internet. When I called him through tears, demanding to know why he had stolen my artwork, his voice was ice-cold. "Brenda needs a weighty centerpiece for her show. She's my wife - you owe her your help." At last I understood completely: to preserve his own name and standing, he was willing to destroy my future. On the morning of his wedding, I left a five-million-dollar check on the table and boarded a flight to London. Channing - from this day on, we owe each other nothing.”