The Ex Who Saved His Bride

From the back cover

In the universe of billionaire romance, I was supposed to be the pristine, untouchable first love.

The White Moonlight. The standard against which all others failed.

Except I didn’t stay on the pedestal. Unable to stomach his suffocating need for control, I severed the tie cleanly and caught a red-eye to London for graduate school.

To force my regret, he promptly found a replacement—a girl who was my polar opposite in every conceivable metric. Whispered intimacies, reckless embraces, and, eventually, sheets twisted around bare shoulders; under his explicit orders, a steady stream of photographs found their way into my inbox across the Atlantic.

When I finally returned, he made sure I walked in on them tangled together.

His lips were curled in a cruel, triumphant sneer: "She tastes ten times better than you ever did."

I took off my tailored blazer, draped it over the girl’s trembling, half-dressed frame, and met his eyes with absolute stillness.

"Is this really the only cheap parlor trick you have left?"