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The Worst Love Story Ever Told

Obianuju_Steven
14
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The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 14 chs / week.
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Synopsis
She’s brilliant. He’s filthy rich. And they can’t stand each other. Dr. Aria Monroe is a rising star in genetic engineering—fiercely independent, sharp-tongued, and sworn off love. Billionaire CEO Julian Westwood is the arrogant devil trying to buy out her research lab—and he always gets what he wants. One heated argument. One too many drinks. One night that changes everything. Waking up in his bed was bad enough. Finding out she’s pregnant? A nightmare. Now the media is watching, their reputations are on the line… and a fake marriage might be the only solution. But nothing about their arrangement feels fake. Not the sparks. Not the secrets. And definitely not the slow, unbearable way hate starts to blur into something else. This isn’t a love story. It’s the worst love story ever told. And it might just be the best mistake of her life.
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Chapter 1 - Chapter 1: The Mistake

Dr. Aria Monroe hated everything about biotech conferences—the overpriced name tags, the empty compliments, and most of all, the self-important CEOs who thought the world owed them for having money.

So naturally, Julian Westwood had to be here.

The ballroom buzzed with artificial charm. Waiters glided between groups in tuxedos, serving champagne to people pretending to like each other. Aria stood near the back, nursing her drink, her black blazer sharp and unbothered. She scanned the crowd until her eyes landed on him.

Julian.

He hadn't changed—sleek suit, arrogant smirk, the kind of man who looked like he woke up every morning knowing the world would bow. Aria clenched her jaw. She'd read enough about his company—Westwood Biogenics—to know what he was: a corporate vulture. They'd tried to buy out her lab twice. She refused both times.

He noticed her.

Of course he did.

He strode over like he owned the air around him. "Dr. Monroe," he said smoothly, eyes flicking down her body before settling on her face. "Didn't think I'd see you here. Thought you hated 'corporate vultures.'"

"I do," Aria replied, her voice crisp. "But sometimes even vultures have scraps worth stealing."

Julian laughed, low and amused. "Still charming, I see."

"Still slimy, I see."

The tension between them buzzed like static. She should have walked away. Instead, they kept talking—bickering, teasing, challenging each other with every word. One drink turned into two. The conference dragged into night. Somehow, they ended up at the bar.

Then at the elevator.

Then in his suite.

It wasn't supposed to happen. It was supposed to be a mistake—one fueled by anger, curiosity, and just enough whiskey to make her forget everything else. They didn't kiss like strangers. They kissed like enemies set on ruining each other.

When Aria woke the next morning, sunlight sliced across the penthouse suite like guilt. She sat up slowly, her hair tangled, her mind racing.

Julian was still asleep—bare-chested, too relaxed, like nothing about the night had been a disaster.

Aria stared at him.

Then she quietly gathered her clothes, pulled on her boots, and left without a word.