Blurb：
Stage 4 cancer claws at Odette Bellamy’s ruthless CEO reign when a supernatural Covenant offers salvation: collect 100 “I hate yous” from her lifelong nemesis, Stellan Creed—the ice-cold corporate king whose loathing burns brighter than her terminal diagnosis. Their decades-long feud explodes into high-stakes psychological warfare as Odette weaponizes boardroom sabotage, explosive kisses, and a drugged vulnerability scene to break Creed’s legendary control. But when her final gambit backfires, trapping them in a penthouse prison of forced proximity and unresolved tension, Odette discovers the fine line between hatred and obsession. Can the woman who built empires on fury survive falling for the rival sworn to destroy her? A darkly romantic duel between mortality and desire, where every “I hate you” inches them closer to salvation…or mutual ruin.Content：
§01The steel felt cold against her skin.
Colder than the dread coiling in her stomach.
“Caught you,” Stellan Creed murmured, his voice a low vibration against her ear.
The click of the second handcuff locking around her wrist was the most definitive sound she had ever heard.
A sound of absolute finality.
He was the predator, she was the prey, and this opulent Park Avenue penthouse was his cage.
It was exactly what she had wanted.
It was everything she feared.
The Covenant demanded I collect one hundred declarations of hate from someone, so I chose the man who had always hated me: my arch-nemesis.
From that day on, I crashed his meetings, sabotaged his mergers, and—knowing his obsession with control and cleanliness—I kissed him, hard and without permission.
But the progress stalled at ninety-nine.
In a final, desperate gambit, I took advantage of him when he was drugged and vulnerable.
The next morning, I waited, breathless, for the hundredth “I hate you.”
He looked at me for a long moment, his ears turning a shade of crimson I’d never seen before, and said gruffly, “Fine... I accept your advances.”
The diagnosis had landed like a death sentence, each word from the oncologist a nail in her coffin.
Stage four.
Inoperable.
A handful of months, maybe a year if she was lucky.
Odette Bellamy, the woman who had clawed her way to the top of New York’s corporate ladder, who had built an empire from sheer will, was being evicted from her own life by a cluster of traitorous cells.
That night, as she stared out from her sterile hospital room at the glittering, indifferent city, it appeared.
Not as a vision, but as a thought, cold and sharp and utterly alien, materializing in the center of her mind.
*The Covenant is offered.*
*Terms: Survival in exchange for service. A life for a collection.*
*The Price: Elicit and collect one hundred (100) genuine declarations of hatred from a single, designated target.*
*Fulfillment of the Covenant guarantees complete cellular regeneration. Failure results in immediate termination of the current life cycle.*
*Do you accept?*
It was insane.
A hallucination brought on by grief and morphine.
But as another wave of searing pain ripped through her, Odette had laughed, a dry, ragged sound.
What did she have to lose?
*I accept.*
*Target Designation Required.*
Her mind, sharp and strategic even in the face of oblivion, cycled through a Rolodex of enemies.
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The End