When I was fifteen, my father died—and his best friend Santino took me in. He gave me everything, then claimed me at eighteen. For eight years, I was his bed partner, his outlet, his doll. He tracked my phone, forbade me from wearing makeup, put his hands around my neck—but never once said he loved me. When I got pregnant, he said, "I'll take care of the child. You don't have to be responsible for his life." I asked three times. He stayed silent three times. Then another man gave me in three days what Santino wouldn't give in ten years—and I finally understood: my match had burned out. His "I love you" came too late.
Watch free
My Country Bride is the Underworld Queen
The Alpha Lion King's Private Doctor
Mr. Reid, You've Got the Wrong Wife
Oops, I ended up with my ex's stepdad