PixelSpyer

InkTrend ad

InkTrend

Literary Arts, 48 followers, 3 ads in library

InactiveShoes & FootwearVideoLibrary ID 1724182252050418
Launched Jun 26, 2026Run time unknown

New ads are still being tested; watch whether it survives past 30 days.

Ad copy

To exact revenge, she struck a deal with the cold, ruthless head of a powerful family. After their plan succeeded, he cornered her against a wall, his voice almost pitiful. "I helped you take down those people. Don't you think you owe me some time alone?" She froze, stunned. Had their alliance turned into something else? ===== "You've weathered countless storms over the years. Welcome home, Arabella." At the celebratory dinner, a young man in a perfectly tailored suit found himself unwilling to look away from Arabella Stanley. She possessed an otherworldly beauty, her sharp features sculpted with precision and wrapped in an aura of cool detachment. Her piercing eyes revealed nothing of her inner thoughts, and when she spoke, her voice carried the same arctic chill. "I'm leaving now." Joshua Willis, the young man, seized the moment without hesitation. "Allow me to drive you home." Arabella offered no resistance. The car glided through the night. The city lights blurred past as Joshua stole glances at her profile. "When do you plan to return to the company? Our empire continues to flourish." Their partnership had begun years ago through a chance project, and Joshua had witnessed Arabella's brilliance firsthand. He had persuaded her to join forces, and together they had forged a company that now dominated the entire industry. Arabella maintained her measured tone. "I'll decide when the time feels right. For now, I simply want to reach home." "Understood completely. You must be eager to reunite with Daisy. She's undoubtedly thriving. I've been directing all the premium projects to your aunt's husband throughout these years." Joshua's grin widened as he angled for recognition. Arabella and her twin sister Daisy Stanley had lost their parents at the tender age of six, and their aunt Meagan Tucker had stepped in to care for them both. Arabella acknowledged him with a subtle nod. "I appreciate that." Her delicate fingers found the cherry blossom pendant resting against her throat, clicking it open to reveal a treasured photograph of herself and Daisy. Arabella's expression remained stoic in the image, but Daisy's smile blazed with pure joy. Studying her sister's radiant face, Arabella felt an unfamiliar warmth soften her features. After their parents' tragic death, Arabella and Daisy had become each other's entire world. Daisy had always been their family's ray of sunshine, illuminating every room she entered. At twelve, Arabella had been handpicked by the government for a classified operation that consumed seven years of her life. Now that the mission had concluded, she could finally return to Daisy. She had forwarded nearly every government paycheck to her sister, ensuring Daisy lived in comfort and security. Joshua's eyes widened in amazement as he witnessed Arabella's smile. The legendary ice queen was actually smiling? His curiosity about Arabella's sister intensified dramatically. The car approached an upscale residential community, where each house boasted its own meticulously maintained garden. The vehicle glided to a stop in front of a house. This was the home Arabella's parents had bequeathed to them, now shared between Meagan and Daisy. The estate glowed with warm light, alive with the sound of cheerful laughter. Daisy seemed to be flourishing beautifully. With that thought in mind, Arabella preserved her gentle smile as she crossed into the front yard. A weathered doghouse sat in the corner of the property. Someone knelt beside it in the shadows. Through the dim evening light, Arabella couldn't distinguish the person's features, but she watched them scooping food directly from the bowl placed on the ground. Why would someone be eating beside the doghouse? Concern creased her brow as Arabella approached cautiously. The figure appeared startled and scrambled quickly into the doghouse. Arabella's bewilderment deepened. Then a soft, trembling voice drifted from within the shelter. "Please don't strike me again. I won't make any mistakes. I'll be so much more careful..." That voice belonged to Daisy. Arabella's heart shattered instantly. She lunged forward, pulling the figure from the doghouse. Even in the pale moonlight, she recognized her beloved sister immediately. Daisy stared back, her eyes swimming with disbelief. "You..." she breathed, as though she feared her mind was playing cruel tricks on her. "Daisy, is that truly you?" Arabella's voice trembled with disbelief. When Daisy nodded weakly, a glacial fury erupted within Arabella, her eyes igniting with volcanic rage. "Bella..." Daisy whispered, still trapped in shock. "You've actually come back?" The moment felt impossibly surreal to Daisy, like a vision conjured from desperate longing. Arabella, sensing something terribly wrong, reached out to touch Daisy's forehead. Her skin burned with fever. Before Arabella could process this discovery, Daisy crumpled into her arms like a broken doll. Arabella cradled her sister, whose body felt heartbreakingly frail and ice-cold despite the raging fever consuming her. Arabella's heart crystallized into something harder than diamond. The front door of the house suddenly burst open with violent force. "Daisy, you worthless creature! It's been several minutes, and you're still not finished eating? Get inside immediately and wash those dishes!" Meagan's voice sliced through the night air like a bl**e. Arabella pivoted slowly, her predatory gaze locking onto her target. Meagan had transformed dramatically over the years. Once haggard and perpetually exhausted, she now radiated wealth and privilege, adorned in an expensive designer coat and gleaming jewelry that caught the porch light, presenting herself as the very embodiment of refined elegance. Meagan's bl**d turned to ice under Arabella's lethal stare. "You... Arabella? When did you arrive?" "What have you done to her?" Arabella advanced with calculated steps, her voice dropping to a menacing whisper. Meagan instinctively retreated, unsettled by the predatory intensity burning in Arabella's eyes. But she quickly rallied her confidence, reminding herself that Arabella was still just a young woman. She twisted her lips into a cruel sneer. "Daisy shattered a dish, so I administered appropriate punishment. You've been absent for years. Do you possess any understanding of how challenging life has been here? I never allowed her to starve or sleep without shelter. If you weren't my brother's daughters, I wouldn't have wasted my time with either of you." In one fluid motion, Arabella's hand shot out and seized Meagan by the throat, her expression transforming into something carved from arctic stone. Meagan ga**ed desperately, clawing at Arabella's iron grip. "Let... me... go..." "This is my house," Arabella declared, her voice carrying the finality of a death sentence, her eyes radiating lethal intent. "You forced Daisy to perform menial labor. You made her sleep in that doghouse like an animal. You possess remarkable audacity, Meagan." In the warm light streaming from the house, Arabella finally saw what Daisy had been consuming. It was the leftover food. Holding her sister, who felt as weightless as a dying bird and appeared ghostly pale and utterly drained, Arabella felt her heart shatter into countless pieces. Her precious sister had endured this nightmare! "Meagan," Arabella said, her voice saturated with deadly promise, "when you moved into our home, you swore a sacred oath that you would care for Daisy." Meagan bristled at Arabella's bold use of her first name, the disrespect cutting deep. But she shrank backward when she witnessed the murderous gleam dancing in Arabella's eyes. Arabella had always been fundamentally different from other children. She was cold and fearlessly bold. When Arabella had lived here, Meagan had performed the role of a dutiful aunt, though barely meeting even the lowest standards. But the moment Arabella departed, Meagan had seized absolute control, systematically crushing the gentle-spirited Daisy beneath her cruel authority. She had never imagined Arabella would return to witness her crimes. "I did take care of Daisy! She made a mistake, so I disciplined her accordingly. What's so terrible about that?" Meagan's words died in her throat as Arabella's grip tightened mercilessly, making her feel as though death itself was reaching for her soul. "Arabella?" The violent commotion finally drew the attention of the people inside. Meagan's husband and daughter noticed the deadly confrontation unfolding at their door. Through the wide open front door, Arabella observed them living luxuriously in a spacious and magnificently decorated villa, with a table overflowing with exquisite delicacies. The people inside wore expensive clothing that spoke of comfort and abundance. Meanwhile, Daisy had been sleeping in a doghouse, consuming leftovers. Arabella's eyes burned with unshed tears as the devastating truth crashed over her with overwhelming force. Chapter 2 Can You Check Who Made The Payment Khloe Tucker was fuming. "Let go of my mom, Arabella! Back then, she offered to take care of you and Daisy out of kindness. Is that how you repay her? You show up after disappearing for years, acting like you're some kind of hero? What, did you run off, get pr**nant, and have a kid or something? What a joke!" Khloe threw Arabella a nasty glare, but deep down, she actually hoped Arabella might stay. Having her back would mean more help around the house. But Arabella's eyes had already gone cold. Without saying a word, she entered the house and kicked the dining table hard. Dishes flew everywhere, crashing onto the floor and shattering into pieces. Before anyone could react, Arabella grabbed two vases and hurled them straight at Khloe and her father. They hit them squarely, and bl**d started trickling down their faces as they screamed in shock. Her voice was ice. "You've got one day. Get out of my house." Without waiting for a reply, she stormed out with Daisy in her arms. She flagged down the first taxi she saw and rushed her sister straight to a hospital. Back at the villa, chaos broke out. "Mom! That psycho actually attacked me!" Khloe sobbed, staring at the scratches on her face in the mirror. "What if I'm left with scars?" Meagan's fury boiled over. "She's gotten way too bold after all these years! If she shows her face again, she won't be so lucky. We're not nobodies anymore. We've joined hands with Norman Group. There's no way she can stand against us!" She gave Khloe a comforting pat. "Don't worry, honey. I'm taking you to a hospital right now." *** At the hospital, the doctor examined Daisy and frowned. "Her leg's been broken for a while, and she's covered in bruises. Some of her teeth are missing too. What kind of sister lets this happen?" Arabella's voice was low. "It's my fault." Her bangs fell over her eyes, hiding whatever she was feeling inside. The doctor, noticing how quiet she was, spoke gently. "I've done what I could for now. But if someone's been hurting you two, you need to report it. Keeping quiet won't fix anything." Arabella gave a small nod and moved to stand beside Daisy's hospital bed. Daisy, now nineteen, looked heartbreakingly fragile. Her thin frame looked like it couldn't support itself, and her wrists seemed more like twigs than limbs. Her short hair was uneven, dry, and choppy, like someone had taken scissors to it without a second thought. Arabella gently lifted the blanket, and her heart dropped. Daisy's skin told a horrifying story. Old whip marks crisscrossed her legs, and dark burn spots marred her arms. Each scar screamed of cruelty. Arabella's breath caught, and before she could stop them, tears rolled down her cheeks. "Bella..." Daisy's voice was barely a whisper. Arabella immediately reached for her hand. "I'm here," she said softly. "I... missed you," Daisy murmured, her voice hoarse. Arabella clutched her hand like a lifeline. "I missed you too. I thought if I worked hard, I could give you a better life. But I was wrong. I never should've left you alone. I swear, I'm not going anywhere again." The warmth in Arabella's voice seemed to melt Daisy's tension. Slowly, her expression softened. After making sure Daisy was settled, Arabella went to sort out the payment. "The charges have already been covered," the nurse said with a kind smile. Arabella blinked. "What? Who paid?" Joshua crossed her mind, but she quickly dismissed the thought. There was no way he knew about this yet. "Can you check who made the payment?" she asked. The nurse gave an apologetic shake of the head. "Sorry, that information's private. Maybe a family member helped out?" At the word family, Arabella's face turned to stone. She gave a short nod and walked off without another word. If someone had helped, she was going to find out who. Meanwhile, down the corridor, Meagan strolled beside her daughter, Khloe, who was fresh out of the emergency room with her face patched up. "I'm not letting Arabella walk away from this," Khloe snarled, bitterness burning in her voice. "Calm down," Meagan said sharply. "You'll reopen your stitches if you keep flaring up like this. Be more like your sister--grace under pressure." That seemed to cheer Khloe up. A smug smile tugged at her lips. "As long as my sister keeps shining, that's all that matters. She's the youngest dancer in the Griridge Troupe now. Daisy really thought she could outshine her? She was delusional. That broken leg was karma, if you ask me. And if my sister finds out how Arabella treated me--oh, she'll tear her apart." "She's got a big show coming up," Meagan reminded her. "Let's not distract her. One step at a time." She tapped Khloe's nose lightly, but then her expression stiffened as she spotted Arabella ahead. Khloe saw Arabella too, and just the sight of her brought back the sting of humiliation. Her rage boiled over. Without thinking, she grabbed her studded handbag and swung it with all her strength toward Arabella's back. Arabella's instincts kicked in. Just as she turned around, a tall man came into view. With quick reflexes and strong arms, he grabbed the bag mid-air by its strap, stopping it like it was nothing. The sudden pull made Khloe lose her balance, and with a startled scream, she fell to the floor. Chapter 3 Grab Your Things And Come With Me "Khloe!" Meagan hurried to her daughter's side, helping her up while shooting a vicious glare at the man who had shown up out of nowhere. "Who the h**l are you? Arabella's new guy or what?" The man didn't bother responding. His sharp eyes gave nothing away, cold and unreadable, like the still, deep sea that hid its danger. Then he began walking toward Meagan, each step loud and heavy on the hospital floor. Meagan instinctively took a step back. Her ch**t tightened, making it hard to breathe. Deep down, something told her this man wasn't just any stranger--he was trouble. Trying to mask her unease, she snapped, "Arabella, you'd better think twice before crossing us again. You and your sister were lucky we let you stay at all! If you ever want back in, come crawling, and maybe we'll consider it." Yanking Khloe's arm, Meagan stormed off. Arabella stood silently, watching them go. Let them stay? That house was legally Daisy's and hers. She glanced at the man and caught sight of a pi**ol, just for a second, before it disappeared beneath his jacket. Her eyes narrowed slightly. Who was this guy? He turned and looked directly at her. Arabella finally saw his face--handsome as h**l, rough around the edges, and those icy eyes didn't blink or soften for anyone. He gave off a vibe that screamed danger--Arabella had never felt anything like it. No surprise Meagan bolted--anyone with sense would have. "Arabella Stanley," he said. His tone was calm and low, but there was a chill in it that made her skin prickle. Arabella glanced him over. "You're the one who paid for my sister, right?" He gave a faint nod. "You're quick. Grab your things and come with me." Arabella's brows drew together. "Excuse me?" Who even was this guy, showing up with mystery and attitude? Before things got tenser, another man stepped in--less intimidating but equally serious. "Miss Stanley, allow me to explain. This is Mr. Asher Gordon. His father and your dad served together in the military. Before his father passed away, he asked Mr. Gordon to watch over your family. Mr. Gordon only recently returned from service and has been trying to track you down since." That explained the military presence, the icy calm... the way he moved like someone trained for war. Arabella studied Asher again. He didn't seem threatening now, but just closed off, like someone with a wall too thick to climb over. She stayed calm. "You got anything to back that up? Anyone can say that." Asher reached into his pocket and pulled out a weathered photo. It showed two men in dusty uniforms--one was definitely her father. The other looked a lot like him. She stared at it for a long moment before replying, "I'll think about it." "Fair. Let's exchange numbers," Asher replied without any small talk. Arabella added his contact. His WhatsApp display was just a solid black box. Funny enough, hers was the same. A strange little coincidence, she thought. Then the assistant added her as well. "Dominick Powell, Mr. Gordon's right hand. Reach out if you need help with anything, anytime." Arabella gave a nod. "Got it." With that, the two men walked off, and Arabella made her way back to Daisy's room. Shortly after, two silent, suited bodyguards appeared at the door--they were clearly sent by Asher. Arabella didn't ask questions. She got to work helping Daisy clean up--changing her into fresh clothes and gently washing her hair, trying to fix its brittle, uneven mess. But when she saw the scars and ci**rette burns covering Daisy's body, her eyes welled up again. Holding back her tears, she carefully rubbed her homemade cream onto the wounds. Then, without wasting a second, she opened her laptop. She had to find out what had happened to Daisy while she was gone, so she hacked into the villa's security system. Sadly, what she saw made her sick to her stomach. It wasn't long after Arabella left that Daisy was thrown out of her own bedroom and made to sleep in a doghouse. The cheerful, lively sister Arabella remembered didn't smile anymore. She saw footage of Daisy juggling multiple part-time jobs, only to get ha**ssed and pushed around. Even so, she kept working hard and made it into one of the top universities. But during her very first semester, she ended up with a broken leg. She was studying dance, and just like that, the injury shattered everything she had dreamed of. The pieces fell into place too easily. Khloe's sister, Elissa Tucker, was in the same class. Arabella's gut told her that leg injury hadn't been some fluke. After that, Daisy barely left the house. She was treated like hired help, scrubbing floors, cooking meals, and still sleeping out in that d**n doghouse. Yet every time Daisy texted her, it was the same lie. "I'm doing fine. Don't worry about me. You just take care of yourself." Arabella's vision blurred. While her sister was being broken piece by piece, their aunt's family was thriving. Their business had taken off, thanks to a lucrative deal with the Vanguard Group. Khloe, a middle school dropout, was suddenly a digital influencer. Elissa was famous and popular in the college. Meagan was rubbing shoulders with high-society ladies, and her husband had become some corporate hotshot. Arabella clenched her jaw and slammed her fist against the table. She didn't even feel the sting. Every bit of success she had worked for... had only served to feed that vile family's greed. And the one person she had sworn to protect had suffered in silence the entire time. Chapter 4 This Revenge Is Mine To Carry Out Arabella took a slow breath, wiped the tears from her cheeks, and her eyes turned cold, like a fire had been snuffed out and replaced with ice. Her fingers gripped her phone tightly as she made a call. "That major project--it hasn't been handed over to the Tucker Group yet, right? Cancel it. Completely." Her voice was calm but firm. "And get to the Griridge Hospital. Now." On the other end, Joshua sounded startled. "Arabella? What's going on?" "You'll see when you get here. Bring a few things with you." True to form, Joshua didn't waste time. Less than half an hour later, he rushed into the hospital, and the moment his eyes landed on the girl in the hospital bed, he froze like a statue. She looked so much like Arabella--same face, but all color drained, bruised, battered, her body wrecked like it had been thrown away and forgotten. Joshua's fists clenched. "Who did this? Tell me who it was. I'll make them pay, I swear it!" That was the sister of a preeminent figure... and they treated her like this? Arabella didn't flinch. "I'll handle it myself. Slowly," she muttered, picking up a pair of sc**sors from the table. Before Joshua could react, the sc**sors had already cut through her long, silky hair. The strands dropped to the floor in silence. He stared, stunned. "Arabella... you're not actually..." "I am," she said. "This revenge is mine to carry out." Joshua swallowed hard, goosebumps rising on his arms. The way she said it--it was clear. H**l was coming for someone. Arabella glanced at him. "Also, what do you know about the Gordons?" "The Gordon family?" He immediately straightened. "They're legendary. Way beyond the top elite families. Super wealthy, but incredibly discreet. I've only ever worked with the right-hand man of their current CEO." "You mean Dominick Powell?" Arabella asked casually. Joshua's jaw dropped. "Wait, you know Dominick? Don't tell me... are you saying the Gordons were involved in what happened to Daisy?" Arabella gave him a blank stare before calmly explaining Asher's connection and what he had said earlier. Joshua slapped his thigh, clearly overwhelmed. "Asher Gordon? If it's really him, then yeah, no one's faking that. He leads the family. Rumor has it he's ex-special forces, quiet as a ghost, but deadly. If someone crosses him, they don't get a second chance." Arabella didn't react. She just stared at the floor, her thoughts turning in circles. Then she spoke, steady and cold. "You should head out now. Also... sell my villa." Joshua hesitated. "That place... that's your parents' home. Are you sure?" Arabella looked over at Daisy's fragile frame. "She was tortured in that house. There's no comfort left there. Just get rid of it." Her voice cracked slightly. "And if possible, find a buyer who's impossible to deal with." Joshua gave her a long look, then nodded. "Understood. I've got a bunch of properties lined up. If you ever need a place, it's yours." "Thanks." She didn't look up, and Joshua, sensing she needed space, quietly slipped out the door. Left alone, Arabella gently held Daisy's hand and murmured, "I swear, everyone who hurt you... I'll make them pay for it tenfold." That night felt endless, and sleep didn't come. The next morning, Arabella stood quietly outside a dance studio at Griridge University's dance department, listening through the open door. "Elissa, things have been so dull without that pathetic girl around," someone inside snickered. "I know, right? No one to fetch us coffee, no one to mess with. It's no fun without a punching bag," another chimed in. Peering through the glass window, Arabella spotted Elissa in the middle of the dance studio. Years ago, Elissa had been just a pale, skinny kid. Now she was dressed in a flowing white dance outfit, all elegance and grace, like something out of a dream. Surrounded by classmates, Elissa flashed a gentle, modest smile at the comments. "Guys, don't say that. Let's not be mean." "You're too kind, Elissa," Joyce Lambert, her good friend, scoffed. "That girl sponged off your family for years. If it were me, I'd have thrown her out of your house on day one." Arabella narrowed her eyes slightly. Calling it their house? Seriously? That place belonged to her and Daisy. Elissa and her family were the ones living off of them. Elissa tilted her head, her voice syrupy sweet. "She's my cousin, after all. Her parents passed away. If we didn't take her in, she would've had nowhere to go." Her fake compassion earned gasps of admiration from the crowd. What a generous soul, they all seemed to think. The loud chatter in the dance studio instantly stopped the moment Arabella walked in. "Daisy?" Joyce blinked in surprise. She stared at Arabella, stunned. She looked the same, but... something about her felt different now. Chapter 5 Got Yourself A Su**r Daddy The dance studio fell silent, as if someone had hit pause. Every single eye was locked on Arabella, but she acted like she didn't see a thing and confidently made her way to the back, where she began stretching like it was just another day. Joyce's jaw clenched. "Daisy, you've got some nerve showing up out of nowhere like this!" Joyce barked, marching over and swinging a sharp kick at her. "Just because we've gone easy on you doesn't mean you're not taking orders from us!" But Arabella moved with ease, dodging the kick without breaking a sweat. Joyce lost her balance and hit the floor face-first with a loud, painful thud. "You dodged me?" Joyce screeched in disbelief. Her face turned red with fury as she raised her hand to s**p Arabella. But just like before, Arabella slipped out of reach like a shadow. Joyce's swing caught nothing but air, and she stumbled forward, grabbing her lower back with a wince. "D**n it!" "My bad," Arabella said gently, her voice almost too soft to catch. Joyce wanted to explode, but something about Arabella's calmness made her hesitate. She didn't dare swing again. Instead, she snapped, "What are you just standing there for? Get over here and help us stretch already!" "So, Daisy's really back," she thought smugly. "Still the same pathetic errand girl." Arabella's gaze briefly darkened, but she gave a polite nod like an obedient student. She knelt beside Joyce and began helping her with leg stretches. Joyce smirked. "You look even sadder than before. Honestly, it's pathetic." But then, a painful scream cut through the air. Joyce's leg jolted, and she broke into a cold sweat, grabbing her thigh. "My leg... what the h**l? Did you snap my leg?" The class crowded around her in a frenzy. "Is she alright? Someone call for help!" "Look, the teacher just walked in!" Their panic was cut short as the teacher entered the room. Arabella still had Joyce's leg in her hands. Calmly, almost casually, she gave it a subtle twist. "Ah!" Joyce screamed even louder, nearly in tears from the pain. "What's going on in here?" The teacher frowned, scanning the chaos. "My leg! It feels broken... I can't--" Joyce wailed, then blinked in confusion. Just seconds later, she could move it again. "Wait... what?" "You look fine to me." The teacher shot a look at Joyce--one that wasn't exactly sympathetic. She had seen enough of these girls' antics over the years. "I don't care what drama you're cooking up on your own time, but today's important. The Griridge Troupe selection is happening. The dean and senior faculty will be here shortly, so I expect everyone to act like professionals." "I swear, I..." Joyce began, trying to protest. "That's enough." Elissa cut her off, stepping forward with an easy smile. "Let's not waste more time. Joyce, calm down." Elissa's tone made it clear--this wasn't the time to pick fights. Joyce had no choice but to bite her tongue and swallow her anger, though her glare at Arabella could have burned through steel. The teacher clapped her hands, and class began. During the last twenty minutes, a few other teachers showed up to observe. By the time class ended, the room was filled with a mix of nervous energy and excited chatter. "God, I really hope I get picked. Dancing alongside Elissa would be a dream come true." "Elissa, don't forget us when you're famous!" someone teased. Elissa gave her signature angelic smile. "Of course not. You're all my people." Then someone dropped a name that made the entire class go silent. "They say Isabella might be watching today." Gasps rippled through the room. Even Elissa blinked in shock, her breath catching. Isabella Wallace was the icon of modern dance. Her performances were legendary, her choreography unrivaled. Just being seen by her could open doors. "If Isabella notices me, that's it. That's my breakthrough," Elissa thought, her gaze sharpening with quiet ambition. But then someone spoke up, disrupting the mood. "I saw Daisy dancing earlier. Honestly, she wasn't bad at all." Joyce scoffed loud enough for the room to hear. "Daisy? Please. She's pathetic. No way she'd get picked." Turning her attention to Daisy, she said, "Hey, what are you still doing here, anyway? Go get our lunch. You remember our order, right?" Without a word, Arabella nodded and walked off, her tall frame moving with a silent elegance despite the slump in her shoulders. "Ugh. Even the way she walks is irritating. Does she actually think she's all graceful or something? What a complete eyesore!" Joyce sneered. By the time Joyce, Elissa, and the rest of their group showed up at the cafeteria, laughing and cracking jokes, Arabella already had their meals prepared. Her eyes quietly scanned each of them--calm, blank, giving nothing away. But in her mind, she was taking note of everything. Joyce, whose father ran the Lambert Group, was spoiled beyond belief and filthy rich. Next to her was Kenzie Marsh--the meek, glasses-wearing music student who practically worshipped the ground Elissa walked on. And behind them, the two guys were followers, plain and simple. They were all muscle without a mind. Joyce looked at the food Arabella had bought and narrowed her eyes. "Well, well. Where'd you get the cash, huh? Got yourself a su**r daddy? I thought you were broke, freeloader." Joyce kept running her mouth but still dove into the food--everyone was starving after dancing all morning. However, midway through eating, something went terribly wrong. Joyce coughed violently, bl**d trickling from her lips as she clutched her throat, her eyes wide in panic. The others followed suit, gasping, hands around their necks, as if something sharp was tearing through their throats. "It burns--what's happening?" they wh**zed, struggling to speak as pain ripped through them. Elissa stared at her in disbelief, still holding her throat. "Daisy... what did you do?" "That little bi**h's getting revenge!" Joyce screamed, losing it completely. "You think Elissa letting you tag along means we'll go easy on you? You're dead!" Furious, she flung her food tray at Arabella, while the two boys beside her instinctively lunged forward, ready to grab her without hesitation. Chapter 6 Do You Have Any Proof The students nearby were numb to this kind of chaos. "Alright, that's enough," Elissa said, her voice sounding gentle on the surface but hollow beneath it. She stayed comfortably seated, not bothering to step in--after all, she never did when things got ugly. Meanwhile, Arabella, calm and collected, didn't even flinch. When the tray came flying her way, she calmly reached up and caught it in one smooth motion. The momentum flipped the tray's course, and it slammed straight into one of the two boys' faces. The food, laced with slivers of glass, sliced across his skin, and bl**d trickled down his cheek in thin, terrifying lines. "S**t! That hurts!" he cried out. One look at the bl**d was enough, and he collapsed in panic, completely out cold. The other guy didn't back down. Snarling, he reached for Arabella's hair, yanking it hard. "You think you're tough, Daisy? Huh?" His fist flew toward her face, but Arabella caught it mid-swing like it was nothing. His expression froze. She slowly twisted his arm until his knees buckled. "Ahhh! It hurts--stop, please! I'm sorry!" he howled, his face turning as pale as chalk. The second she let go, he hit the floor and curled into himself, sobbing in pain. One of the girls considered helping, but after seeing Arabella in action, she backed off without a word. What a bunch of clowns. Arabella stared at them, her gaze sharp and cold, like she was looking at tr**h. "Have you lost your fu**ing mind?" Joyce screeched, still in denial. Her hands shook as she picked up a chair and hurled it with all her strength. Arabella shifted her weight, spun, and kicked the chair right back--slamming it into Joyce's head. Bl**d splattered instantly. Elissa jumped up in horror, shrieking, "Oh my God!" The cafeteria exploded with shouts. "She's gonna k**l someone! Go find a teacher!" "What is wrong with her? Is she high or something?" "Honestly, she's kind of a badass..." "Shh! Don't let anyone hear you say that!" Thirty minutes later, the university president's office was a pressure cooker. The fight was way too intense to sweep under the rug. Daisy, Elissa, and the rest of the group were hauled in for questioning. Joyce and the others had been bandaged up, but their egos were just as bruised. Elissa looked ready to cry, still rubbing her sore throat like it had swallowed fire. She was furious, terrified the damage was permanent. "Call your parents," the president ordered Arabella sharply, trying to make sense of the madness. "Now." Joyce jumped in before Arabella could speak. "She can't. Her parents are dead!" she sneered. "She's been mooching off Elissa's family for years. No morals. No manners. Just expel her already!" Taken aback, the president looked Arabella up and down. "So, what exactly happened?" Joyce didn't miss a beat. "She put glass in our food. She tried to hurt us and then went berserk. She needs to face consequences!" Arabella didn't even blink. Her voice came out calm and cold. "Do you have any proof? And while we're at it--did I even lay a finger on you first? Pretty sure your side started swinging." "Liar!" Joyce snapped, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. Arabella turned her gaze to the president, cool and steady. "Why don't we pull up the cafeteria security footage?" Silence dropped like a stone. Joyce's face stiffened, and her jaw clenched tight. "We only hit her because she gave us food full of glass! She deserved it!" Arabella tilted her head slightly. "Where's your proof that I put it there?" she asked softly. "Because I have proof of something else." She pulled out her phone and tapped the screen. A video began to play. The footage was damning. It showed Joyce and her gang shoving a sandwich filled with glass into Daisy's mouth. As Daisy's lips b**d, they laughed like it was some sick joke. It was raw and unforgivable. Arabella's ch**t tightened as she watched it, the pain as fresh as the day she found it on Daisy's phone. Even the president's face shifted. He turned to Joyce and her friends with a sharp, icy glare. For a split second, panic flashed across their faces. Trying to smooth things over, Elissa quickly said, "Sir, yeah, Joyce went too far, and we're really sorry. But Daisy was talking tr**h first--Joyce just lost her temper." Arabella raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Is that so? Well then, I'll just upload this little clip online and let the public decide who the real victim is." "Absolutely not!" the president barked. "Miss Stanley, if that video gets out, it'll drag the university through the mud. Let's not blow this out of proportion. Apologize to each other, and we'll call it even." Joyce looked outraged. "What? She beat the crap out of us! Why should we just let it go?" Her friends chimed in, just as outraged. Meanwhile, Elissa leaned toward the president and whispered with a sweet smile, "My dad's set to donate $1 million to the school. Just thought you should know." The president's expression shifted. His tone changed. "Daisy," he began, "what they did was wrong. But your response was excessive. This could've been handled differently. You can either apologize now and move forward, or you'll be expelled. And if you upload that video, trust me, public opinion won't be on your side. That would be reckless." Arabella stared at him. So that was what this was. Now she understood why Daisy had been stepped on for so long. These people weren't protecting students--they were protecting their pockets. Joyce, smelling victory, leaned back with a smug grin. "Daisy, you really thought you had the upper hand? You're nothing but a parasite clinging to Elissa's family like a leech. Don't act like you matter. You want to stay here? Then get on your knees and l**k my shoes clean. Maybe, just maybe, I'll let you off the hook." Joyce looked at Arabella like she wasn't even human. Elissa didn't say anything at first, but the fire burning behind her calm expression gave her away. Her throat still hurt, and what bothered her more was the embarrassment. Deep down, she wanted to lash out at Arabella. But on the outside, she just let out a quiet sigh, like she was more hurt than mad. "Daisy, I honestly don't know what happened to you," she said. "But if you can't apologize to us, then pack your things. You're no longer welcome in my home." The president didn't bat an eye. "That's enough. You're done here. Pack up and get out." He waved Arabella off like she was a fly in the room before turning to Elissa with a tight smile. "You're injured. Go rest. We'll take care of everything." Joyce smirked, finally feeling like the universe had balanced itself. With their heads held high, they all moved to strut out like they had won a prize. "Quite the scene," came a calm voice from the doorway, all eyes turned. Arabella raised an eyebrow. How was he here! ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &5&

fbweb.manobook.comLearn more
Placements
FacebookInstagramAudience NetworkMessengerThreads
Reach (28 locations)
🇮🇪 Ireland🇮🇹 Italy🇳🇱 Netherlands🇪🇸 Spain🇸🇪 Sweden🇫🇮 Finland🇩🇰 Denmark🇧🇪 Belgium🇬🇷 Greece🇦🇹 Austria🇭🇷 Croatia🇵🇱 Poland🇵🇹 Portugal🇱🇺 Luxembourg🇧🇬 Bulgaria🇨🇿 Czech Republic🇸🇮 Slovenia🇸🇰 Slovakia🇱🇹 Lithuania🇭🇺 Hungary🇨🇾 Cyprus🇷🇴 Romania🇫🇷 France🇩🇪 Germany🇲🇹 Malta🇪🇪 Estonia🇱🇻 Latvia🇬🇧 United Kingdom

Why this ad works

Hook, angle, audience and three ideas to borrow — written by AI from the ad copy.

Similar ads from other brands

InactiveJun 29, 26
Rejected by her Alpha Chosen By the Moon

fb-350-620.h5.novel-master.com

Rejected by her Alpha Chosen By the Moon

Learn more

THE NIGHT OF BROKEN DREAMS Myra’s pov Today was my eighteenth year birthday, and tonight my mating ceremony, the day I would get rejected by my mate and my life would change. The reflection in the mirror didn’t look like me. My hair was pinned up, dark curls falling in loose tendrils around my face, and a thin silver chain circled my brow, a single moonstone resting at the center of my forehead. I should have felt beautiful. Regal. Like a Luna about to claim her destiny. But all I saw was the hollow look in my eyes, the stiffness in my smile, the way my fingers trembled as they smoothed down the fabric of my dress. “Stop fussing. You look perfect,” Aria said softly, coming up behind me and squeezing my shoulders. My best friend’s reflection met mine in the mirror. Her bright blue eyes, usually so full of mischief, were gentle tonight, full of hope for me. “He’s going to see you and remember why the Moon Goddess chose you to be his mate.” I swallowed hard. “If only everyone else believed that.” Aria’s smile faltered, just a little. I couldn’t blame her. I knew what the pack thought, what they whispered when they thought I wasn’t listening. The orphan girl. The Beta’s daughter who couldn’t even shift. The future Luna with no wolf, no strength. They pitied me. And worse they doubted me. The only reason I stood here tonight, preparing for my mating ceremony, was because of my parents’ honor. My father and mother had died protecting the Alpha King during the great rogue invasion seven years ago. They’d been heroes. Respected, everyone loved them. And I was what was left. “I’ll prove them wrong tonight,” I whispered, more to myself than to Aria. “I’ll be a good Luna. I’ll serve the pack. I’ll make Malik proud.” Aria’s hands slid down my arms, and she hugged me from behind. “He already is, Myra. And after tonight, everyone else will be too.” I nodded, trying to draw strength from her words, from the soft warmth of her embrace. But as I turned from the mirror, I caught the faintest sound voices outside the chamber. “She looks the part, but we all know it’s a joke,” someone murmured. “A Luna who can’t shift? What will she protect us from? Goddess above, we are werewolves…” another snickered. They thought that because I couldn't shift I didn't have werewolf perks like enhanced senses, but I did. I could hear every single word of their whispers. Aria looked like she wanted to go defend me, I didn't want a fight today so I just caught her wrist and shook my head. Aria’s eyes flashed with anger. “Fucking assholes, ignore them. They don’t matter.” But their words burrowed deep, echoing every secret fear I’d tried so hard to bury. I squared my shoulders. “Let’s go.” --- The clearing was alight with torches, the full moon high above, casting silver over the gathering of my pack. Hundreds of eyes turned to me as I stepped onto the sacred stone path. There were stiff polite nods with tight, forced smiles on their faces as they watched me walk down the aisle. But Malik would come. He would take my hand, and everything would change. I lifted my chin, my heart pounding in my chest like a drumbeat. And I waited. And waited. The minutes stretched, endless. Murmurs rose among the crowd. I could feel their eyes on me… Where was he? Why hadn’t he come? Was he… changing his mind? I clenched my hands together, trying to still their shaking. I felt Aria’s presence behind me, steady, a silent support, but it wasn’t enough to stop the cold dread creeping through my veins. The crowd stirred. A figure broke through the trees at the edge of the clearing, his dark form outlined by the moonlight. Malik. His hair was tousled, his ceremonial tunic rumpled and half-unfastened, his boots dusty as if he’d been running. His face was pale, jaw tight, dark eyes stormy as they met mine. He staggered towards me like a drunken man. The whispers grew louder. What had happened? Why did he look… like this? Malik walked toward me. My heart had leapt at the sight of him, but the joy was short-lived, drowned beneath the weight of the expression on his face. Resolve. “No…” I breathed, before he even spoke. I knew what was going to happen. He stopped before me, towering, his scent cedar and smoke filling my senses, familiar and beloved. I reached for his hand, but he didn’t offer it. “Myra Sunrose,” he said, his voice carrying across the clearing, steady and clear. I shook my head, unable to stop the tears that burned my eyes. “Please—Malik—” “Stop…No…please.” I tried. “I, Alpha Malik Nightshade,” he continued, voice hardening, “reject you as my mate.” The words hit like a blade, slicing clean through me, leaving me hollow. A gasp rippled through the crowd. Aria let out a soft cry behind me. “No,” I whispered again, but I could feel the bond the beautiful thread that had tied my soul to his, fraying. The pain came, swift and brutal, searing through my chest, my head, my very bones. My knees buckled. The world spun. The last thing I saw before the darkness claimed me was Malik’s face, haunted and broken. --- The world returned slowly, blurred and full of ache. I was lying on a cot, the soft glow of lanterns casting shadows on stone walls. My chest throbbed. My head pounded. “Malik…” I croaked, the name torn from my lips without thought. My heart called for him, the bond shredded but the longing still raw and alive. I heard a small sharp laugh. I turned my head, vision swimming, and saw her. Evelyn Ashe. The she-wolf who had always hovered at Malik’s side. Very popular in the pack, she was everything I wanted to be, beautiful, graceful, fierce. She sat beside the cot, arms folded, a smirk twisting her perfect mouth. “Why would our Alpha choose a weak girl like you to be our Luna?” she said, voice dripping with venom. “Someone who can’t even shift? Someone who has always been a weak pampered little brat? You don't deserve Malik.” The words stung more than they should have. I tried to sit up, but my body wouldn’t obey. Tears blurred my sight. I wanted to be strong, to tell her she was wrong, to fight back. But I couldn’t. I was weak and useless. And he had seen that. He had rejected me. Sobs tore from my throat, ragged and unstoppable. The grief, the humiliation, the shame all of it crashed over me like a wave, pulling me under. Evelyn’s laughter followed me as I wept, as the pain dragged me down into darkness again.

InactiveJun 28, 26
😍What happens next👉Click Here to read on👉
Video

website.novelbars.com

😍What happens next👉Click Here to read on👉

Learn more

Victor's text hit Elara's phone at 9:47 PM. *Final notice. 48 hours or we seize the house.* She read it three times in the bathroom stall of the Thorne Dynamics ballroom, her hands shaking hard enough to nearly drop the phone into the toilet. Outside, two hundred of New York's elite celebrated another record quarter. Inside this stall, Elara's life was collapsing. Seven figures. That's what the debt had become over ten years. Medical bills from Leo's leukemia. Her mother's cancer treatment. Her father's gambling addiction. Numbers that had stopped feeling real and started feeling like a life sentence. The fire stairwell was empty. She kicked off her heels, and sat on the concrete steps. Sipping the remaining champagne, it was the 5th glass she’s had, pulling her knees to her chest, her expensive navy dress bunching around her thighs. Professional. Composed. That's what she'd been for three years as Marcus Thorne's executive assistant, you have to be, if you work for Marcus you’ll know he's the Devil in Dior. The stairwell door opened. Marcus descended slowly, his jacket unbuttoned, his tie loosened. The dim light caught the sharp angles of his face, carved jaw, dark eyes that missed nothing. He stopped two steps above her. He’s the type of man that turns heads when he enters a place, handsome? Yes, sexy? Yes, when it comes to work? a nightmare in black suits "You left the gala," he said. "I needed air." "You've been gone for eleven minutes." He moved closer. "I don't employ people who disappear." She looked away. "I’m sorry it was a family emergency, there's nothing you can fix." "Try me." Three years working under him, he literally gets off making her life miserable. Unreal goals, Inhuman workload, impossible deadlines, yet she always delivered and made sure she'd maintained perfect distance. Hated his guts, he was always set out to make her work difficult. Now, drunk on champagne and desperation, she felt it crumble. "My brother. Financial trouble. A debt collector. One hundred and fifty thousand dollars by tomorrow." He pulled out his phone immediately. "No." She grabbed his wrist. "You can't just…." "You work for me. Your problems are containable." His eyes locked on hers. "We're going to contain this." Something broke open inside her. For the first time in three years, she wasn't alone with it. He reached out, and for a terrifying second, she thought he would touch her face. Instead, his fingers brushed the collar of her dress, adjusting the thin strap where it had slipped on her shoulder. “Let go of control, just for a moment,” he said, his thumb resting where her neck met her shoulder, the heat searing her skin. "I can't," she whispered. "Yes, you can." He closed the final inch, ran his hands through her short dress, Elara felt electric waves through her. His mouth descended, not with the arrogance of a boss, it was gentle but with the demanding hunger of a man who had not been with anyone for too long. She kissed him back. It wasn't tender. It was desperate, her mouth against his, tasting cologne and expensive scotch. She expected him to pull away. Marcus Thorne didn't blur professional lines. Marcus didn't blur anything. Instead, he kissed her again. His hand gripped the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair, destroying the careful pins. The other hand pulled her close until there was no space between them. He tasted like control and power, and she wanted to drown in it. He spun her around and pressed her back against the brick wall. His mouth moved to her neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks she'd have to hide tomorrow. "Tell me to stop," he said against her skin. She didn't. She pulled his shirt up instead, needing to feel him. His chest was solid muscle, warm skin stretched over ribs she could feel under her palms. He made a sound, almost a growl and then his hands were everywhere. Her dress was hiked up around her waist. His fingers found the edge of her underwear and tore them away completely, the fabric ripping in his grip. "Fuck," he breathed. "You're soaked." He didn't waste time. His hand pressed between her thighs, fingers sliding inside her, and she gasped into his neck. His thumb found her clit and worked it in rough circles while his fingers pumped deeper, fingering her so hard. She could feel her own wetness coating his hand, dripping down her inner thighs. He moved the other free hand pressing her boobs and sucking on it passionately, tongue curling around the nipple and biting softly yet hardly. Her hips rocked against his hand desperately. This was insane. This was career suicide. This was….Damn she hates her boss, how’s this possible, she tried to stop but she couldn’t, the champagne was hitting harder now. He stopped and stepped back just far enough to unbuckle his belt. His pants dropped. Already hard and thick, stroking it once before reaching for his wallet. "Don't you fucking move," he said. He tore open a condom with his teeth and rolled it on with one hand while the other gripped her hip, keeping her pinned against the wall. Then he positioned himself and pushed inside her in one hard stroke. Elara's cry echoed off the concrete walls. He was big, bigger than she'd expected, filling her completely, stretching her almost to the point of pain. He didn't give her time to adjust. He pulled out and thrust back in, establishing a brutal rhythm that knocked her back against the brick with each movement. "Is this what you wanted?" he demanded, his voice rough. "Is this why you kissed me?" She couldn't answer. Could barely breathe. He was hitting something deep inside her that made her vision blur. His hand moved from her hip to grip her thigh, pulling her leg up and around his waist, changing the angle, going even deeper. The cold wall at her back. His heat pressing against her front. The sound of their bodies colliding in the empty stairwell, wet and urgent and absolutely forbidden. "Fuck, you're tight," he groaned. "So fucking tight." He was hitting so fast and rough and didn’t notice the condom had broken. The pleasure was insane. Her orgasm built fast, a pressure that started at her core and radiated outward. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders, tasting blood from biting her own lip. "Come," he commanded. She did. Hard and sudden, her muscles clenching around him as pleasure ripped through her body. She bit down on his neck to keep from screaming. He followed seconds later, his hips jerking erratically as he finished inside her, his breath harsh against her ear. For a moment, they stayed pressed together, both breathing hard, still connected. Then he pulled away. His expression was already closing off, back to the nonchalant ceo. He fixed his pants with mechanical precision while she slid down the wall, her legs shaking so badly she could barely stand. "That didn’t happen," he said quietly. Her heart dropped in her stomach. "Marcus" "Go home. It’s Christmas holiday, see you at work next week, make sure you’re early." He didn't look at her. "This won't happen again." He left before she could respond, his footsteps disappearing up the stairs. Elara sat alone on the concrete, her dress torn, his marks on her skin, and realized she'd just made the worst decision of her life. It was 1 week later when she bought the first pregnancy test. Then four more after that just to be sure. Shit!!! what the fuck have i done. Two Pink Lines It had been a week since Elara slept with the devil. Christmas wasn’t supposed to feel like this. The holiday was meant for family dinners and bad movies, not sterile hospital hallways that smelled like bleach and something darker she couldn’t name. But here she was, Day seven of her vacation, sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair beside her mother’s bed, pretending everything would be fine. Her phone buzzed. Another email from Marcus. *Subject: Q4 Report - Revisions Needed* She opened the attachment. Forty-three pages of financial projections that needed reformatting by tomorrow. On Christmas week. Because Marcus Thorne didn’t believe in holidays, only deadlines. “You’re working again,” her mother said softly. Elara looked up. Her mother’s face had that grey pallor that came with stage three cancer, her cheeks hollow, but her eyes were still sharp. Still watching everything. “Just a quick edit.” Elara locked her phone and forced a smile. “Nothing major.” “You work too hard, baby.” “The job pays well, Mama. Really well.” The lie tasted bitter. Her savings account had $3,000 left after this month’s payment to Victor. The chemo her mother needed cost $80,000. “I’ve got it covered. The treatment, everything. You just focus on getting better.” Her mother’s thin hand reached out, wrapping around Elara’s wrist. “I don’t want you sacrificing your life for me.” “I’m not sacrificing anything.” Elara squeezed back gently, careful of the IV line. “You took care of me my whole life. It’s my turn now.” “Has your father come by?” The question landed like a stone in still water. “No.” Elara kept her voice neutral. “Haven’t seen him all week.” “Elara…” “And I’m praying it stays that way.” She couldn’t hide the edge in her tone. “Luca showing up only means he needs money or he’s running from someone he owes. Either way, it’s trouble we don’t need right now.” Her mother’s eyes filled with that particular sadness that came from loving a man who kept breaking her heart. “He’s still your father.” “He’s a gambling addict who put us in this mess.” Elara stood, smoothing down her jeans. “I need to head home, but I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Earlier if you need me.” “You’re a good girl, Elara. Too good for all this.” Elara kissed her mother’s forehead, tasting the salt of unshed tears she refused to let fall. “Get some rest, Mama. I love you.” “Love you too, baby.” The taxi ride home was quiet. Elara stared out the window at the Christmas lights strung across brownstones, families visible through warm windows, living lives that didn’t involve debt collectors and dying mothers and mistakes made in fire exits. She pulled out her phone, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram. Mimi had posted pictures from her campus in London, surrounded by friends at some holiday party. Elara double-tapped the image, feeling the distance between them like a physical ache. The next post was one of those viral memes. A girl holding up twelve fingers with the caption: *Period check. 12/12 months DONE. We survived besties.* Elara’s thumb froze mid-scroll. Twelve months. When was the last time she’d gotten hers? She tried to think back. November had been hell at work with the annual report. October… she couldn’t remember. Everything blurred together in a haze of hospital visits and late nights at the office and Victor’s constant threats. But she’d gotten it in November. She was sure. Maybe. Possibly. Her heart started doing something uncomfortable in her chest. “Miss? We’re here.” The taxi driver was watching her in the rearview mirror. Elara paid quickly, her hands shaking as she handed over crumpled bills. The bodega on the corner was still open, fluorescent lights harsh against the darkening street. She walked in like she was in a dream, past the rows of chips and energy drinks, to the back wall where the pharmacy items were kept. Pregnancy tests. An entire shelf of them. This was stupid. She was being paranoid. Stress could delay periods. She’d read that somewhere. And they’d used a condom. Marcus had used a condom. She’d seen him put it on. But intrusive thoughts were a bitch, and Elara had never been good at leaving questions unanswered. She grabbed the cheapest box and paid without making eye contact with the cashier. Her apartment was dark and cold. She hadn’t been home much this week, spending most nights on the hospital’s uncomfortable chairs. The space felt foreign now, like it belonged to a different version of herself. One who hadn’t fucked her boss in a stairwell. The bathroom light flickered twice before staying on. Elara tore open the box with shaking hands, reading instructions she already knew by heart from countless pregnancy scares in college that had amounted to nothing. Pee on the stick. Wait three minutes. One line meant not pregnant. Two lines meant… She didn’t let herself finish the thought. The test felt absurdly light in her hand. Such a small thing to hold so much weight. She did what needed to be done, set the stick on the edge of the sink, and pulled out her phone to set a timer. Three minutes. She couldn’t watch it. Instead, she sat on the closed toilet lid and stared at the cracked tile on the floor, counting the seconds in her head because the silence was too loud. Her phone buzzed. Another email from Marcus. She didn’t open it. The timer went off. Elara stood slowly, like her bones had aged a decade in three minutes. She picked up the test with hands that didn’t feel like her own. Two pink lines. Clear as day. Unmistakable. She bought four more tests from three different bodegas, spacing them out so the cashiers wouldn’t remember her face. Took them all within an hour, lining them up on the bathroom counter like evidence at a crime scene. Two lines. Two lines. Two lines. Two lines. Elara sat on her bathroom floor as the reality settled into her bones. She was pregnant. With Marcus Thorne’s baby. “Shit.” Her voice cracked. “What the fuck have I done?“​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ The Devil’s Proposal Elara hailed a taxi, dropped into the back seat, the taxi smelled like stale coffee. Elara rummaged through her tote bag for the third time, fingers brushing past lip gloss and crumpled receipts, searching for the USB drive that held Marcus’s edited Q4 reports. If she’d left it on her kitchen counter, she was dead. Not metaphorically dead. Actually dead. Marcus Thorne would fire her on the spot, and worse, he’d do it with that blank expression that made you feel like an insect he’d stepped on without noticing. Her fingers closed around the small drive. She exhaled. “Rough morning?” the driver asked, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “You have no idea.” Rough didn’t cover it. The past week had been hell wrapped in a nightmare and served cold. She’d worked through Christmas, editing financial projections while her mother slept in a hospital bed and five pregnancy tests sat hidden in her bathroom drawer like evidence of a crime she couldn’t undo. And Marcus. God, Marcus had made sure she earned every cent of her salary. Emails at 2 AM. Revision requests on Christmas Day. A forty-page report that needed complete reformatting because he decided he didn’t like the font. The man was the devil in Dior. No, worse. He was heartless in Hugo Boss. Satan in Suitsupply. Why not just quit? The question had been circling her brain for three years like a vulture. Because she couldn’t. Before this job, she’d been a janitor at a corporate office in Manhattan, mopping floors at 5 AM and dodging the eyes of executives who looked through her like she was furniture. Jobs were scarce when you didn’t have connections or a degree from the right school. And this job, for all its hell, paid well. Well enough that her mother had a hospital bed instead of dying on a clinic floor. Well enough that Leo, her junior brother, could stay in community college. Well enough that she could keep Victor, the debt collector from taking the last thing they owned. The taxi pulled up to Thorne Dynamics Tower, all glass and steel stretching into the grey January sky like a middle finger to everyone who couldn’t afford to work there. Elara paid the driver and stepped onto the sidewalk. The building loomed above her. She made the sign of the cross, muttering under her breath, “Dear God, about to work with the devil again today. Keep me safe.” It was sarcastic. Mostly. The lobby was already buzzing with employees, everyone moving with that particular Monday morning energy that felt more like a death march than a workday. Elara checked her phone. 8:47 AM. She was late. “Elara!” She turned to find Emeka striding toward her, coffee in one hand, his designer scarf draped over his shoulder like he was walking a runway instead of heading to accounting. He looked her up and down, eyebrows rising dramatically. “Girl, you’re glowing. What happened during the holiday? You met someone?” “Emeks, I’m late. Can we not?” “Oh, we’re absolutely doing this.” He fell into step beside her as they headed toward the elevators. “You’ve got that glow. That ‘I had good sex’ glow. Spill.” “There’s nothing to spill.” “Lies. I can smell lies, babe, and you reek of them.” Elara’s phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced down at the screen. *Mr. Thorne: My office. Now.* Her stomach dropped to her feet. Emeka leaned over her shoulder, reading the message. “Is that the devil?” She nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. “Well, don’t keep him waiting.” Emeka’s grin turned wicked. “Go on before he drops hell on earth. And babe? Whatever you did during Christmas, do it again. That glow is everything.” Elara didn’t respond. She was already moving toward the private elevator that led directly to Marcus’s top-floor office, her heels clicking against the marble like a countdown. The ride up felt like drowning in slow motion. She stared at her reflection in the polished steel doors. Dark circles under her eyes that concealer couldn’t quite hide. Hair pulled back in a tight bun that made her look professional and miserable. She looked like someone who’d spent the week having a mental breakdown in installments. The doors opened with a soft chime. Marcus’s office was exactly as she remembered. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Minimalist furniture that probably cost more than her annual salary. Everything is cold, clean, controlled. Just like him. He stood behind his desk, hands in his pockets, staring out at the skyline. He didn’t turn when she entered. “Good morning, Mr. Thorne.” Silence. She stayed by the door, clutching her bag like a shield. The air in the room felt heavy, charged with something she couldn’t name. Her mind raced. Did he know? Had he somehow found out about the pregnancy? Was this the part where he fired her for unprofessional conduct and she lost everything? “Sit.” It wasn’t a request. Elara moved to the chair across from his desk, lowering herself slowly. Her hands were shaking. She clasped them together in her lap, willing them to stop. Marcus turned finally, his dark eyes locking onto hers. His expression gave away nothing. No anger. No warmth. Nothing. He looked at her the way someone might look at a contract they were considering signing. The silence stretched. Ten seconds. Twenty. She was about to break, about to say something, anything to fill the terrible quiet, when he spoke. “Marry me.” Elara blinked. The words didn’t make sense. They were English, she understood English, but strung together like that they became nonsense. Her brain scrambled to process. Did he hit his head over Christmas? Did he think the sex in the stairwell meant something? Did he somehow know about the pregnancy and this was his twisted solution? “I…..” “Should I repeat myself?” His voice was calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that came before hurricanes. Elara’s mouth opened. Closed. It opened again. No sound came out. Her heart was doing something violent in her chest, slamming against her ribs like it was trying to escape. Marcus Thorne, her boss, the devil who’d made her life hell for three years, the man who’d fucked her in a fire exit and then dismissed her with cold finality, had just asked her to marry him. And judging by the look on his face, he wasn’t joking. My devil on earth had just made it official.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ One Million Reason “Marry me.” The words hung in the air between them like smoke. Elara stared at Marcus, waiting for the punchline, the smirk, anything that would indicate this was some elaborate joke at her expense. Nothing came. Is this man insane? “You heard me.” His tone was flat, like he’d just asked her to schedule a meeting, not commit to a lifetime legal bond. God, she despised this man. “What is this?” Her voice came out sharper than intended. “Some kind of mental breakdown? A psychological experiment? The physical workload wasn’t torture enough, so now we’re moving into emotional manipulation?” “Marry me, and I will…..” “No.” The word came out loud. Too loud. Sharp enough to cut through the thick glass walls of his office and reach the assistants stationed outside. She saw heads turn, eyes widening before quickly looking away. Marcus blinked. It was the first genuine reaction she’d seen from him in three years. Actual surprise flickering across his face before the mask slammed back down. “No?” “Should I say it in French? Morse code? Sign language?” Elara’s hands were shaking again, but this time it wasn’t fear. It was rage. Pure, undiluted rage at this man who thought he could control everything, including her. “Which translation works best for you, Mr. Thorne?” “You haven’t even heard my offer.” “I’m not interested in whatever twisted game you’ve cooked up in that calculating brain of yours.” She stood, chair scraping against the floor. “Find another assistant to play with.” Marcus watched her like she was a puzzle he couldn’t solve. The look on his face was almost comical. Almost. She’d just become the first person in Thorne Dynamics history to tell Marcus Thorne no, and he genuinely didn’t know how to process it. Elara turned to leave. “One million.” She stopped. Her hand was on the door handle, fingers frozen mid-grip. “One million what?” “Dollars.” Slowly, she turned back around. Marcus hadn’t moved. He stood behind his desk, hands still in his pockets, expression carefully neutral except for that slight tightness around his eyes that suggested he was recalculating every assumption he’d made about this conversation. “One million dollars,” she repeated. The number felt absurd in her mouth. Fake. Like Monopoly money. “For what? A year? Six months? How long does this arrangement last?” “Two years. A marriage contract. You play the role of my wife. After twenty four months, we divorce. You walk away with the money.” Elara laughed. It came out bitter and sharp. “You think you can just throw money at me? After three years of treating me like I’m nothing? Like I’m some object you keep in that office to make your life easier?” She took a step closer to his desk. “All the impossible deadlines. The emails at 3 AM. The constant criticism. The way you look through me like I’m invisible. And now you want me to marry you?” “It’s a business transaction.” “It’s insane.” “It’s practical.” Marcus pulled his hands from his pockets, placing them flat on the desk. “I need a wife. You need money. This solves both problems.” “You don’t know anything about my problems.” “I know you’re drowning in debt. I know your family is one payment away from losing everything. I know you spent Christmas in a hospital instead of enjoying your holiday.” His eyes locked onto hers. “I know Victor called you six times last week.” Ice flooded her veins. “How do you….” “I pay attention, Miss Vance.” The use of her last name felt like a slap. They’d had sex a week ago. His marks had barely faded from her neck. And now they were back to Miss Vance, like nothing had happened. Like she was still just the assistant. The employee. The thing he kept around for convenience. “Take your time,” Marcus said, settling into his chair with infuriating calm. “Think it over. Run the numbers. You’ll come around.” The certainty in his voice made her want to scream. “I won’t.” “You will.” Elara turned and walked out. She didn’t storm. Didn’t slam the door. Just walked out with her head high and her hands steady, even though everything inside her was screaming. The assistants at their desks kept their eyes down, suddenly fascinated by their computer screens. It was the first time in three years she’d walked out of Marcus Thorne’s office without being dismissed. And surprisingly, he didn’t call her back. No sharp command. No snide comment about professionalism. Nothing. Her own office was smaller. Cramped. A desk shoved against a window that overlooked the building next door instead of the city skyline. But it was hers, and right now she needed the space to breathe. Elara dropped into her chair and pressed her palms against her eyes. One million dollars. The number kept circling her brain like a vulture. That kind of money would pay off Victor. Cover her mother’s treatment. Give Leo a real shot at a future instead of community college classes he could barely afford. That kind of money would save them. But marriage? To Marcus Thorne? The man who’d made her life miserable for three years? The man who’d fucked her in a stairwell and then act like she was nothing? Her phone buzzed. She ignored it. The office phone rang. “Miss Vance speaking.” “Hi, um, there’s someone here to see you?” The receptionist’s voice was hesitant. “He doesn’t have an appointment, but he says it’s urgent. His name is Victor.” Elara’s blood turned to ice. Victor. The debt collector. Here. At her office. “Tell him….” Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat. “Tell him I’ll be right down.” She hung up before the receptionist could respond. Her hands were shaking again, but this time there was no rage to hide behind. Just pure, animal fear. Victor had found her office. He’d tracked her down to the one place she thought was safe. And if he was here, it meant the forty-eight hours were up. It meant she was out of time.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ And he’s here to collect the money she had no hand in spending, her father, her father the drunk gambler had been borrowing money from Victor. Broken Glass Victor was waiting in the lobby, leaning against the reception desk like he owned the place. Designer suit. Expensive watch. Nothing about him screamed debt collector except the dead look in his eyes when they landed on her. Elara’s stomach twisted. “We need to talk,” he said. “Not here.” She grabbed his arm, steering him toward the exit. The last thing she needed was her colleagues witnessing this. “Outside.” They crossed the marble lobby in silence, through the revolving doors and into the cold January air. The parking lot was mostly empty at this hour, just a few scattered cars and the distant hum of traffic. Elara didn’t stop until they were behind a concrete pillar, away from the building’s glass walls. “What are you doing here?” Her voice came out harsh. “How did you even find my office?” Victor smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Your father gave me your details. Workplace, address, everything. Luca’s been very cooperative lately.” Of course he had. Luca would sell out his own children if it meant saving his skin for another day. “What do you want?” “Your father hasn’t been answering his phone for two weeks. His weekly payment is overdue.” Victor pulled out his phone, scrolling through something before turning the screen toward her. Numbers. Dates. A debt that had somehow grown even larger. “The house goes up for collateral if I don’t get payment by tomorrow.” “Tomorrow?” Elara’s voice cracked. “That’s impossible. I need more time.” “You’ve had ten years, Elara.” “Please.” The word tasted like ash. She hated begging. Hated the way her voice went small and desperate. But this was her mother’s house. The only thing they had left. “Just give me one more week. I’ll figure something out. I’ll get you the money.” “One week won’t change anything.” Victor pocketed his phone. “You don’t have it now, you won’t have it then.” “I’ll find a way.” “How? You going to ask your boss for a raise?” He gestured toward the tower behind them. “Girls like you don’t get miracles. You get buried.” “I’m not asking for a miracle. I’m asking for time.” Victor studied her for a long moment. She could see him calculating, weighing her worth against whatever pressure Luca’s debt had put on him. Finally, he sighed. “Twenty-four hours, Elara. That’s all you get.” He started walking back toward the street. “Clock’s ticking.” Tick. Tok. She watched him go, her legs suddenly unsteady. Twenty-four hours. One day to come up with money she didn’t have. One day before they lost everything. The sound of footsteps made her turn. Marcus was walking through the parking lot, phone pressed to his ear, talking in that clipped tone he used for business calls. He must have been heading to his car. His eyes swept past her, lingering for just a second before moving on. He’d heard. She knew he’d heard. The parking lot wasn’t that big, and Victor’s voice carried. But Marcus kept walking. Didn’t stop. Didn’t acknowledge her. Just continued toward his black Mercedes like she was part of the scenery. Elara stood there, watching him disappear into his car, and felt something cold settle in her chest. Of course he didn’t care. Why would he? She was just the assistant. Just another problem that wasn’t his to solve. She went back inside, grabbed her bag from her office, and left without telling anyone. The building felt too small suddenly. Too suffocating. “Elara!” Emeka caught her at the elevator, slightly out of breath like he’d jogged to catch up. “Where are you going? It’s only 2 PM.” “I need to see my mum.” The lie came easily. Too easily. “She’s not feeling well.” His expression softened immediately. “Oh babe, I’m sorry. Do you need anything?” “No. I just need to go.” “Okay. Text me if you need me, yeah?” She nodded and stepped into the elevator before he could see her face crumble. The subway ride home was a blur. Bodies pressed together. The smell of sweat and cheap cologne. Someone’s music bleeding through their headphones. Elara stared at the floor and tried not to think about Victor’s words. Twenty-four hours. The house. Her mother. One million dollars. The thought of what happened at the office started coming back to her. It’s absurd she’s even thinking about it, it’s Marcus Thorne, why would ever want to marry Marcus Thorne, she thought to herself. No. She wasn’t that desperate. She wasn’t going to sell herself to Marcus Thorne for money. There had to be another way. Her apartment building looked the same as always. The familiar brownstone that had been home for the past five years. She climbed the steps to her floor, keys already in hand. The door was open. Elara stopped. She’d locked it this morning. She always locked it. Her hand pushed the door wider. Inside, her wardrobe was open, clothes thrown across the floor. Drawers pulled out and overturned. Everything scattered. “No. No no no.” She dropped her bag and ran to her bedroom closet. Shoved aside the shoes and boxes stacked at the bottom. Her hands found the metal lockbox she kept hidden in the back corner. It was open. The small lock was broken. Empty. Her heart skipped. Three thousand dollars. Every cent she’d managed to save over the past months. Money meant for her mother’s treatment. Money she’d scraped together from skipped meals and extra shifts and selling anything she didn’t absolutely need. Gone. Only one person had a key to her apartment. Luca. Her father had robbed her.

InactiveJun 27, 26
Click here To Read on 👉

image.words-fly.com

Click here To Read on 👉

Learn more

My fated mate rejected me at 4 AM in my own kitchen. Best thing that ever happened to me. Because here's what that @sshole didn't know when he called me tr@sh: I'm a gold wolf. The rarest, most powerful wolf alive. And my second chance mate? The Alpha King himself. So to everyone who shoved me in hallways, who laughed, who thought I was nothing— Buckle up. You're about to see what happens when your "weak little nerd" becomes your Queen. "Alaric! Brielle! Caelan! Get down here and eat your breakfast right now!" Mom—Elowyn Emberfang, our pack's Luna—her voice boomed up from downstairs. Oh yeah, forgot to mention—we're triplets. Tomorrow's our eighteenth birthday. Which means two things: we'll find our mates, and at exactly 11:59 PM—the moment we were born—we'll shift for the first time. Most wolves shift between sixteen and eighteen, but we're late bloomers. "The ABC Crew! Last call or you're gonna be late!" That's what Dad calls us when we're dragging our feet—Alaric, Brielle, Caelan. A-B-C. Real creative, Dad. I dragged myself out of bed, rubbed my eyes, and while I brushed my teeth, let me give you the rundown on the three of us. Alaric's the oldest—beat me out by four minutes. He got Dad's build—broad shoulders, all muscle, the kind of guy people just move out of the way for. Skin's that warm bronze from Mom's side, eyes this intense amber that can pin you in place. He keeps his locs tied back, always neat. Girls at the academy throw themselves at him, but Alaric shuts it down every time. Future Alpha of the Emberfang Pack can't just give his heart away to anyone. Still my best friend, though. Not that I'd admit it out loud. I'm number two. Got Dad's coloring—copper skin, eyes like autumn leaves. The Moon Goddess told my parents before we were born that my wolf would be... different. But they never told anyone. Fine by me. I learned early how to make myself invisible. Oversized hoodies even in summer, glasses I don't actually need, hair pulled up and stuffed under my hood. Let them say whatever. Being the weird one beats being stared at. And it's not just about hiding my body—it's about what happens when I shift. What my wolf looks like. That's the real secret. Then there's Brielle. My sister—if you wanna call her that—is gorgeous, I'll give her that. Honey-toned skin, deep brown eyes, hair down to her waist that she spends an hour straightening every morning. But she's also the entire reason I learned to keep my head down. Because Brielle's already claimed the future Alpha from the neighboring pack as hers. The Nightveil Pack's school bvrned down last semester, so now they're sharing space with us at the Emberfang Academy. Which means we see him every single day. Thaddeus Nightveil. I try not to think about him. We finally made it downstairs. Alaric was already good to go—dark jeans, a henley that didn't hide the muscle underneath, boots that cost more than most wolves save up for in months. I looked the same as always: oversized hoodie, baggy joggers, my most beat-up sneakers. Brielle, as usual, was dressed like she had a red carpet appearance—that top was so small you had to squint to call it a shirt, the skirt was basically a wide belt, and she had on four-inch heels. Dad was already by the door, keys in one hand, coffee in the other. "Let's move. Alaric already left." "I am NOT riding with her!" Brielle said, looking at me like I was tr@sh on the sidewalk. Dad didn't even glance up. "You're riding with her. You totaled three cars, Brielle. Deal with it for ten minutes." She whipped around to face me, eyes blazing. "Stay away from me at school! Don't talk to me, don't look at me. Don't even breathe in my direction!" I didn't answer. She's been saying the same stuff to me since we could walk. I slid into the driver's seat of the black Challenger—Dad gave it to me after my last growth spurt, and it's the only thing that makes me feel like I have any power at all—the engine rumbled under my palm. Brielle slammed the passenger door and immediately pulled out her phone, pressing herself against the door like she could teleport away from me if she tried hard enough. Long day ahead. But at least it's Friday. Thank Goddess for that. We got to school. Caelan didn't shut up the entire ride. I pulled the black Challenger into the Alpha kids' reserved spot. Next to me was Alaric's black Charger—he was already here. One spot over sat a deep blue Corvette. Caelan started screaming the second she saw it, so I didn't need to guess whose it was. Thaddeus Nightveil. Future Alpha of the Nightveil Pack. I try to avoid him. No special reason—the guy just hates me for no reason at all. He's the worst bully in this entire school. Bar none. His twin sister Wren's birthday is also tomorrow. My dad and his dad figured they'd just combine the parties—mostly because Caelan's convinced he's her fated mate. Even though Thaddeus treats me like garbage, I have to admit... he's hot. About six-three, same height as Alaric. Blue eyes—yeah, this dark-skinned @sshole has blue eyes that could svck you in if you stared too long. His short hair's always styled in perfect waves, and those tight T-shirts he wears show off abs that are way too defined. Wait. Stop. Brielle, what are you doing. I hate him. He hates me. We're even. I barely made it to my locker before the insults started flying. "Hey fatty, nerd, loser, ug1y, four-eyes—" That's just some of it. They only do this when Alaric's not around. Caelan, her crew, and Thaddeus—those three lead the pack. I don't say anything. They always say "snitches get stitches." Honestly, I'm not scared of them. Dad told me I could take down anyone, even an Alpha. When we spar, I can make him tap out. Thaddeus hates me, but his sister Wren is my best friend. Wren's always trying to get me to dress more girly, wants me to ditch these big-@ss glasses. We're wolves—she knows I don't actually need them. She walked over, threw her arm around my shoulder. "Brielle, you just gonna let them tr@sh-talk you like that? You know you could beat the sh!t out of them. Why put up with it?" I didn't answer. Just grabbed my books from my locker and sighed. "Let's get to class." Wren and I have every class together. She didn't push it, just tightened her arm around my shoulder a little. We walked to class together. Behind us, I could hear Caelan laughing. I pretended I didn't. --- Wren and I walked into the cafeteria. "Wren, why are you hanging out with that loser?" "Hey fatty, you should skip lunch." "Wren, come sit with us and leave that waste of space alone." Everyone was pointing at me, laughing. My eyes bvrned, but I wouldn't let the tears fall—no way I'd give them that satisfaction. Suddenly I wasn't hungry anymore. I turned to run and slammed into something, hitting the floor hard. "Watch where you're fvcking going, ug1y!" Thaddeus yelled, kicking me in the side. "I feel sorry for your future mate. He's gonna take one look at your face and reject you. Who'd want a weak, pathetic, fat four-eyes as a mate? I bet you'll die alone. Look at what you're wearing. Who'd want to be seen with someone like you?" He kept going. Finally kicked me in the face and walked off. I knew it was gonna swell up. I stayed on the floor, didn't move. Just wondering how people could be this cruel. Alaric walked in and saw me lying in the hallway crying. He immediately sat down next to me, pulled me into his arms, voice almost a roar. "Who did this? Brielle, who did this?" Viggo and Cade came over too. Both just as pissed—they've always treated me like a little sister. I didn't answer. Just cried against Alaric. "Brielle, you tell me right fvcking now! Who did this?" Dad was at school, in a meeting with the principal. Something about rogues showing up at the edge of the woods near campus. I didn't want him to see me like this. Someone would end up dead. I hate Thaddeus, but I don't want him to die today. Whether it's Dad or Alaric who does it, he's a dead man. My dad's the kind of Alpha you don't mess with. Piss him off and he'll snap your neck. He never jokes around, especially when it comes to his daughters. Yeah, I'm a daddy's girl. You probably figured that out already. Mom texted saying I could come home. Thank Goddess, I need to get out of this he11hole. Maybe she can get me out of tomorrow's party too. Alpha Alton, Luna Amira, Thaddeus, Wren, and his future Beta Cole and Gamma Lane are all staying on our territory to help set up for the party. Fvck. Why couldn't they just throw the party at their own pack? Caelan's POV I was sitting on Thaddeus's lap, tongue down his throat, when I caught Brielle and his sister walking into the cafeteria out of the corner of my eye. I immediately started tr@shing her. That's how you get the popular kids to accept you. Everyone was laughing. I know she's my sister, I should feel guilty, but I don't. She deserves it. Dad thinks she's so special, treats her like a princess. Yeah, she gets straight A's, does everything Dad tells her to. I know I've screwed up a lot, but fvck, I'm his daughter too. Brielle and Alaric both got new cars for their birthdays, and I'm stuck riding with that b!tch just because I totaled my last three cars. We have money. Dad could easily buy me another one, but he won't. Says I can work a few hours at his company every day like Alaric and Brielle do, save up and buy my own. Fvck that. Why should I have to do that? I'm gonna be Luna of the Nightveil Pack someday. They've got just as much money as we do. We'd just finished humiliating her when she ran out of the cafeteria. She won't tell anyone. I told her if she does, I'll make her life he11. I'll make her pathetic existence even worse than it already is. I can't wait to shift tonight. Legend says one of us three is a gold wolf, with special abilities from the Moon Goddess. I know it's gonna be me. That way my mate and I will be the strongest pair. We'll be a power couple. Brielle's weak and pathetic, so it definitely won't be her. Alaric's too soft, always running after Brielle to check if she's okay. Though maybe that compassion is what'll make him a good Alpha. He's a good brother. But I'm kinda jealous of how close he and Mom and Dad are with Brielle. Just wait. Wait till they find out I'm the gold wolf at the party. --- Luna Elowyn's POV I can't believe the triplets turn eighteen tomorrow. I remember when my mate and his father—he was still Alpha back then—came to my old pack, Ravencrest, to sign a treaty. I was nineteen, daughter of the Beta. Corvin Emberfang was twenty-one. The second our eyes met, we knew we were fated mates. I remember thinking, this gorgeous brown-skinned man is mine. That night after everyone went to sleep, he snuck into my room. We went at it all night. Then the next morning, he rejected me. Said a Beta's daughter wasn't good enough to be his future Luna. "I, Corvin Emberfang, future Alpha of the Emberfang Pack, reject you, Elowyn Ravencrest, as my fated mate and future Luna." I accepted his rejection. What neither of us knew at the time—he wasn't just leaving me. He was leaving three little surprises behind. I was halfway through my pregnancy with the triplets when the Emberfang Pack held a ceremony celebrating Corvin becoming the new Alpha. Beta families had to attend. My parents knew my situation, but I begged them to let me handle it myself, or I'd run away. They were always supportive. I was packing my stuff in the guest room at the Emberfang Pack when Corvin burst in and grabbed my arm, hard enough to scare me. "You let another man touch what's mine?" I yanked my arm away. "I don't belong to you. You gave up that right." His voice got deeper, his eyes darker. I knew his wolf had taken over. "Whose kids are those, Elowyn?" I wasn't scared of him. I was just as pissed as he was. I met his gaze head-on. "The only man I've ever s1ept with—if I'm still willing to call you that—is you. You're the sperm donor for my three kids. You don't get to go near them. You rejected me, which means you rejected them." That day, he completely broke. A single tear slid down his face. Then he jumped out the window, shifted mid-air into that beautiful black wolf of his, and took off into the woods. Thinking back on all this now, I'm busy getting ready to welcome my old pack for the party. I definitely didn't make it easy for him to win me back. I finally forgave him before the kids were born, and we got married. Not necessary for us wolves, but he wanted the pack to know I was his fated mate, and humans to know I was his wife. Eighteen years ago, I officially became Luna of the Emberfang Pack. I love that Alpha to death! Brielle's POV Party day. Four in the morning, wide awake. Eighteen. Can't believe it. Even though I won't shift till 11:59 tonight, I'll be able to sense my fated mate before then. Maybe it'll be someone from Mom's old pack, someone who can get me out of here. I've already got enough credits to graduate early. I'll miss Mom, Dad, Alaric, and Wren, but the rest of those @ssholes? Not one bit. Can't sleep anyway, might as well go downstairs and grab something to eat. Suddenly craving Oreos dunked in milk. Threw on my oversized hoodie and matching baggy pants, ran downstairs. The second my feet hit the first-floor landing, a scent hit me. Best thing I've ever smelled in my life. Musk mixed with my favorite cologne. I know this scent—Alaric wears it too, but this definitely isn't him. I stood there, pinned in place by that scent. Who? I think I'm already in love with him. Then a hand slapped across my face, snapping me out of it. Then fingers wrapped around my throat. Sparks. Those sparks I've been dreaming about, bvrning from his fingertips into my skin. Then I heard the words. Don't know why, but I always knew these words would come someday. "It's you! You're fvcking tr@sh to me. How could the Moon Goddess make this kind of mistake, pairing me with a disgrace like you. You're weak! Ug1y! Fat! No class at all! Just a nerd!" "I'd rather die than be seen with a pathetic b!tch like you! I, Thaddeus Nightveil, future Alpha of the Nightveil Pack, reject you, Brielle Emberfang, as my fated mate and future Luna." Fine. Fated mates are supposed to be loyal, kind. What about those love-at-first-sight stories? I remember Mom telling us the story of how Dad rejected her then won her back. She forgave him, and he's treated her like a queen ever since. But I won't forgive this @sshole. And I won't chase him back—though a heartless piece of sh!t like him probably won't come begging anyway. He already fvcked Caelan, I don't want him. Disgusting. Strange thing is, the rejection didn't hurt like they say it does. Didn't hurt at all. Just pure rage. I yanked his hand off my throat and looked him straight in the eye. "You think I want you? The guy who screwed my b!tch of a sister? The guy who's treated me like sh!t from day one? I, Brielle Emberfang, accept your rejection!" That shocked look on his face. Beautiful. I turned and went back upstairs. Completely forgot about getting snacks. --- Alpha Corvin's POV Sitting in the conference room, still doesn't feel real. My three kids turn eighteen today. Eighteen years ago, I almost lost my beautiful Elowyn. The moment she accepted me again as her fated mate, I became the happiest man alive. Those sparks when we touch still send shivers down my spine. Just thinking about it is making a certain part of me react. Should I go back and get in bed with my sєxy Luna again? Someone's walking toward the office. Getting closer, I recognize Brielle's scent. My girl. I can feel her emotions too. Before she even knocked, I told her to come in. "What's up, princess?" She sighed. "Dad, that offer you made—about me going to the Alpha King's territory to train his female warriors. I accept. They all know I'm the strongest she-wolf alive anyway." "What made you change your mind?" She gave a small smile. "Don't get mad. Thaddeus rejected me. I just don't want to see him at school anymore." I was pissed, but I didn't let her see it. I told her they'd be thrilled she changed her mind. I'd arrange for her to get her diploma early, she could leave Monday morning. I told her to go get ready for tonight's party. She doesn't know the real reason I want her to go. But she'll find out soon enough. That punk rejected her? I'm actually glad. It's all part of the Moon Goddess's plan. Oh yeah, I left a surprise in her room. Tonight my daughter's gonna make everyone's jaws drop and eyes pop out. Her beauty's gonna shine like moonstone tonight.

InactiveJun 27, 26
🔞Click to read on more spicy chapters ⚠️Don't read it in public.
Video

website.novelbars.com

🔞Click to read on more spicy chapters ⚠️Don't read it in public.

Learn more

💔💔💔😭"My crush is shamelessly having sex with my roommate next door. Unable to endure it, I was forced to move into Julian’s house. An arrogant hockey captain, the boy who has been silently watching me since we were children... After evolving from friends into a more dangerous relationship, I became pregnant. However, his hesitation-free departure left me heartbroken... Should I keep holding on, or throw myself into the arms of the crush who has been with me for many years?" ****** Aria’s pov. The moans slipped through the wall, again. Luca, my best friend, my secret crush for years, was having sex with my roommate on the other side of the wall. The sounds were louder than usual tonight, a sharp, rhythmic thudding against the drywall that felt like it was happening inside my own head. It felt deliberate, like Serena wanted to make sure I heard every single gasp, every single second of her winning. It was a shitty way to end a twelve-hour double shift at the coffee shop. I lay on my bed, my eyes burning from the caffeine and the fluorescent lights I’d been under all day. I tried to sleep, but I couldn’t. Serena’s moans were reckless. I looked at the small, framed photo on the corner of my desk—my parents and my older brother, Anthony, smiling in the sun. They’ve been gone for five years now. The car accident that took them when I was fifteen shattered my entire world in a single afternoon. Luca was the only one who didn't let me drown in the silence of that empty house. He held me while I cried until I had no tears left. He stayed when everyone else eventually went back to their lives. He was my anchor, my only piece of home left in the world. That’s why I followed him here to Westbridge University. I gave up a full ride at my dream school just so I wouldn't have to face a single day without him nearby. What a massive, pathetic fool I was. Now I was just the scholarship girl working two jobs while he lived the life of a rich playboy. I’d watched him date dozens of girls over the years. I used to just sit back and wait for them to vanish, which they usually did after a month or two. I told myself they were just distractions, toys he used because he wasn't ready for something real. But Serena felt different. She didn't feel like a distraction, she felt like a permanent replacement. The noise from the next room spiked again, a loud moan that made my skin crawl with a mix of nausea and rage. The lack of sleep and the physical ache in my back from standing all day finally made something inside me snap. I pushed myself up from the bed so fast it felt like the world jolted with me. I stormed into the hallway of our suite and hammered my fist against Serena’s door with everything I had. "Keep it the down, you two!" I yelled. My voice sounded raw, cracking under the weight of the frustration I’d been bottling up for weeks. "Some of us actually have to work for a living in the morning!" The noise stopped instantly. It was replaced by a silence so heavy I could feel it pressing against my eardrums. I didn't wait for a response. I turned around, went back into my room, and shut my door hard enough to make the walls tremble. I fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to force my heart to stop racing. A few minutes later, there was a sharp, aggressive knock on my door. I thought it was Luca coming to apologize, but when I opened it, Serena was leaning against the frame. She wore one of Luca’s oversized t-shirts, looking like she’d stepped out of a magazine. She had a smirk on her face that made me want to slap the look right off her. "You're very grumpy tonight, Aria," She said, pushing past me into my room. "I'm tired, Serena. I just want to sleep. Get out," I said, my voice flat and exhausted. She leaned against my dresser, looking at me with this fake, sugary pity that made my stomach turn. "Is it really the noise that's bothering you? Or is it the person making me scream?" she asked. I felt a flush of heat creep up my neck, my face burning with a humiliation I couldn't hide. "I don't know what you're talking about," I lied. "Oh come on. I'm not blind. Just admit it. You’re in love with him," she said, her voice dropping to a sharp whisper. "Every time he touches me, you feel like you're dying inside, don't you?" she asked. I couldn't breathe. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. I looked past her and saw Luca standing in the hallway. He was frozen there, his hair messy, his shirt unbuttoned. He had heard everything. He looked confused and deeply uncomfortable, like he was looking at a car wreck he didn't want to be involved in. He didn't defend me. He didn't tell her she was being cruel. He just stood there, avoiding my gaze, letting the silence confirm everything Serena said. "Get out," I told her. My voice was trembling now, and I hated myself for it. "Both of you. Get the out of my room," I said. Serena let out a soft, mean laugh and walked back into the hall. Luca stayed for a second longer, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say something, but he eventually just followed her back into her room. I locked the door and stayed awake for a while, too embarrassed to stop thinking, replaying the look on his face, everything I should have said, everything I didn’t. I didn’t even notice when I fell asleep. ★ The next morning was beyond awkward. I tried to stay in my room as long as possible, but I eventually had to go to the kitchen for coffee. I ran right into Luca. He looked perfectly fine, looking like he’d slept for ten hours, while I looked like a ghost. The eye bags were heavy under my eyes and my stare was probably enough to frighten the dead. "Hey, Ri," he said. He was acting like the fight last night didn't even happen. "My mom called today," he said, pouring himself some juice. "She wants to host a dinner for Serena this weekend. She wants to officially meet her," he continued. I felt a sharp, icy pain in my chest that made it hard to swallow. Luca had never brought a girl home to his parents before. Not once in all the years I’d known him. Only me. I was the only girl who had ever met his family, and I had secretly convinced myself it would stay that way until it was my turn for real. "That's nice," I said, keeping my voice as dead as I felt inside. "I want you to come with us," he said. He beamed at me, like he was doing me a favor. "It’ll be less awkward if you’re there you know. You can even study in the library at my house while we do the dinner," he added. He was serious. He really expected me to sit at his family’s table and watch him play house with the girl who had just destroyed me. He didn't care about my feelings. He didn't even care that Serena had humiliated me right in front of him. To him, I was just a fixture. A doll that came along for the ride. At that moment, I realized the truth. He was serious about her. And I was officially being replaced. "I can't go, Luca. I'm busy," I said. "Busy with what? You always come home with me on weekends," he argued. "Not anymore. I have plans," I said, my voice coming out harsher than I intended. I don’t owe you any explanation for how I choose to live my life. I walked away before he could say another word. I went back into my room and pulled up my banking app. I stared at the balance, calculating every penny from my scholarship and my shifts. It wasn't much, but it was enough to get me a deposit on a tiny room somewhere else. I looked at the thin dorm walls and realized I couldn’t stay here another night. I was done being the backup friend. Tonight, I’m leaving. .............................................................................. Aria’s pov. I didn't even bother looking in the mirror before I walked out of my room. I knew I looked like a ghost, but I didn't care. I grabbed my phone and my work bag, checking to make sure I had my keys and nothing else. I was halfway to the front door when Serena stepped into the hallway, still wearing that same smug look from last night. "Leaving so soon? Luca hasn't even finished his breakfast yet," she said mockingly. Her voice was like a slow-acting poison, and I could feel it working its way under my skin. "Stay out of my way, Serena. For real," I said. I didn't wait for her to come up with some clever comeback. I just pushed past her and walked out of the dorm, stepping right into a miserable, gray downpour. The rain was freezing, soaking through my thin shirt in seconds, but it felt better than being inside that suite. I walked all the way to the coffee shop where I worked, my head spinning with every step. When I pushed through the door, the bell jingled loudly, and the warmth of the shop hit me like a physical wall. Mark, my manager, looked up from the register and let out a low whistle. "Aria? You’re not on the schedule until four. You look like a drowned rat, kid," he said. "I’m fine. Mark, do you have a minute? I really need to talk to you," I said. I was shivering so hard my teeth were practically chattering. "Sure, what's up? You look like you're about to have a breakdown," he said. "I have some major accommodation issues. I can't stay in my dorm anymore. Like, I need a new place today," I told him. I was trying to keep my voice down, but the shop was quiet and my voice was already shaky. "Do you know anyone with a spare room? Or a cheap studio? I have some savings, but I need it right now," I added. Mark rubbed his chin, looking concerned. "Today? That's a tall order, Aria. Most places near campus are booked solid this time of year. It's midterm season," he reminded me. I let out a frustrating sigh, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. "But you can post on the school website. I bet someone there could help you out," he suggested. I shook my head immediately. "I can't. Everyone on that site is a shark, Mark. I'm a scholarship kid. They'll just use it to rip me apart," I said. "Why? You really need it, don't you? Desperate times, Aria," he pushed. I opened my mouth to deny him again, but the image of Serena and Luca together in that hallway stabbed my vision. I couldn't bear another second of that nightmare. I pulled out my phone and opened the school website, a place I usually avoided like the plague unless I wanted to see who they were bullying that week. I typed in the words quickly: "Hi. Having major accommodation issues. If you have a room I can rent please, my DM is open. Urgent." I almost shuddered in disgust as I hit the button. The text felt tacky and reeked of desperation, but I didn't have any other cards to play. The site let out a little beep, confirming it had been uploaded to the public feed. "Done," I said to Mark, who was peering over the counter at me. "Good. Now we just wait and—" The notification sound on my phone disrupted his words. I shifted my gaze to the screen and froze. Someone had replied. Not in my DMs. Publicly. "I have an apartment. Meet me at the cafeteria if you are interested," the comment read. I almost screamed in joy, but the stone-faced gaze from a customer nearby snapped me back to reality. "Someone replied! Already!" I shoved the phone toward Mark. "See? I told you," he said, smiling warmly. "Who is it? Can you tell?" I asked. I read the username out loud. "J. Vance." I’d never heard of the name, but then again, I didn't exactly hang out with the elite crowd at this school. I figured it was probably a girl named Jules or maybe a nerd who felt sorry for me. "So when are you meeting the mystery person?" Mark asked. "They didn't give me time, so I'm guessing they want to meet now. It's almost lunch," I said. I looked at the clock on the wall. 9:45 a.m. "Go get ready. You can't meet a potential roommate looking like you just crawled out of a lake," Mark said. I nodded and hurried back to the dorm. Luckily, it was empty. Luca and Serena must have finally left for their morning classes. I walked past Luca’s room, and the door was slightly ajar. The air coming from inside still smelled like sex and cheap alcohol, making my stomach churn with a fresh wave of nausea. I slammed the door shut and went to my own room to change. I threw on my normal baggy jeans and a clean top, tossing my damp hair into a quick ponytail. I checked my reflection once, adjusted my glasses, and ran back out the door. When I stepped into the school cafeteria, it felt like the entire world stopped turning. All eyes turned to me, and for once, it wasn't the usual look of boredom. I ignored them and searched for Table 7, the spot the user had mentioned in their DM follow-up. I caught it in the corner. Someone was already sitting there. From the broad shoulders and the dark, expensive-looking hair, it definitely wasn't a girl named Jules. Shit. I hoped he wasn't some kind of pervert. I shoved the thought aside and walked closer, letting out a little cough to get his attention. "Hi. I'm here about the apartment. You commented on my post," I started rambling. Then he straightened up and turned around. I stopped talking. I stopped breathing. The world actually seemed to stop. Because sitting in the chair was Julian Vance. He was wearing a black pea coat that probably cost more than my entire year's tuition. He was the hockey captain. Every girl at Westbridge had a crush on him. He looked successful and untouchable, like he lived in a completely different universe than me. His dark eyes, which I hadn't seen up close in over a decade, widened just slightly. "Aria?" he asked, his voice a low, rough velvet, laced with genuine surprise. I could only manage a slow nod. "Hi, Julian." "It's been... ages," he said, the surprise quickly masked by his usual guarded demeanor. "I heard you were on campus, but I haven't seen you since—since you were about knee-high. I left campus with my father's company shortly after, remember?" "I do," I mumbled. "You... you were gone for a long time." "For a while, yeah. But I'm back now, obviously," he said, a ghost of a smile touching the corner of his lips. He leaned back in his seat, suddenly serious. "So, the apartment. I saw your post. What's going on? Are you okay?" "I am," I lied, too quickly. "Just accommodation issues. A misunderstanding with my... current situation." He nodded, his gaze unwavering, as if he knew exactly what I wasn't saying. "I have a place near the Heights. You can have the guest suite," he said. He wasn't even whispering. The whole cafeteria had gone dead silent. Every single jaw was hanging open in total shock. "Huh? You... you really mean it?" I whispered. "I-I thought you didn't even remember me." "I knew who you were, Ri," he said, using the old nickname. It felt like a punch to the gut. I almost forgot Luca and he came up with the nickname for me. "And yes, I mean it. I won't overcharge you, and I rarely use it anyway." He was talking, but my mind couldn't even process the words. He scribbled something on a piece of paper and held it out to me. Mindlessly, I took it. It was a phone number and an address. "Call me when you're ready to move," he said. He didn't wait for an answer. He just stood up and walked out like he owned every single inch of the floor he was walking on. I watched him disappear through the double doors, then looked back at the students. They were staring at me with a mix of envy, disgust, and pure, unadulterated hate. At that moment, I wanted the floor to open and swallow me. .............................................................................. Aria’s pov. I was hiding. I sat at the furthest corner table of the coffee shop, staring at the piece of paper Julian had given me in the cafeteria like it was a piece of radioactive waste. My phone wouldn't stop buzzing in my pocket. Notifications from the school website were blowing up, of course from other students, and I didn't even have to open them to know what they said. The lowly scholarship girl and the King of Hockey. What a headline. The gossip was spreading faster than a leak in a dam, and I was right at the center of it. I couldn't stop thinking about the look in Julian's eyes when he stood up and walked away. He didn't look like he was playing a prank. He looked like he was waiting for me to just say yes already. Everyone at Westbridge knew about the war between the Morettis and the Vances. It wasn't just a school rivalry, it was a blood feud between two massive companies that had been trying to bankrupt each other for some years now. Julian was the one everyone loved and cheered for, the quiet hero of the hockey team who had the whole campus wrapped around his finger. Luca was the opposite, the reckless playboy of the Moretti empire who spent more time flaunting his wealth than in a classroom. Growing up, I was always stuck in the middle of them. I remembered our kindergarten playground fights, back when we were kids—when they both swore I would be their bride. I thought it was all just a joke. We were only kids. Julian was the one who actually got his knuckles bloody fighting for me back then, standing his ground even when he was outnumbered. Luca would just use his charm to talk his way out of trouble, always smiling like the world owed him everything. I had always chosen to stay by Luca’s side, thinking his flashy charm was safer than whatever intense fire Julian had in his eyes. Even though I knew he was a reckless playboy, I couldn’t help but hope, just a little, that one day he would realize that I love him. What a massive mistake that turned out to be. "Aria! My God, I’ve been looking for you everywhere!" I jumped slightly as my best friend, Elena, slid into the chair across from me, her eyes wide with total shock. She slammed her phone down on the table, showing the school’s main forum page. Julian’s public reply to my post was the top-rated comment, with hundreds of likes and even more people losing their minds in the replies. "Aria, tell me right now why Julian Vance is offering you a luxury suite in the Heights," she demanded. I sighed and told her everything—the desperate need of an apartment, how I had to put up the notice on the site and then how he just handed me his number and walked out. I also told her about the dorm drama. From the whole sex charade to the dinner invite Luca gave me for Serena. Elena looked like she was having a heart attack right there in the middle of the shop. "You have to do it. You have to call him right now," she said. "I can't just move in with a guy I haven't seen in over a decade, Elena. We talked for two minutes and it was so intense. It's too much," I argued. "Aria, look at yourself. You're exhausted, you're hiding, and your 'best friend' is busy bringing another girl home to meet his parents," she said. She leaned across the table, her voice getting serious. "Julian is the golden boy here for a reason. He’s responsible and he’s quiet. If he’s opening his door for you publicly, he's basically protecting you from the fallout," she added. "He probably just wants to spite Luca," I muttered. "Who cares? It's your chance to finally stop being Luca's shadow. He’s never going to choose you, Aria," she said. That hit me harder than the rain outside. She was right. I thought about how Luca had cancelled our traditions lately. The movie nights he missed. The ten-year anniversary he forgot because Serena wanted a spa day. Even going shopping with her. I realized I wasn't his best friend anymore. It was just a habit he was trying to break. "I'm going back to the dorm," I said, standing up suddenly. "To sleep?" Elena asked. "No. To pack. I'm done being an inconvenience," I told her. I walked back to the dorms, my heart hammering a rhythm of pure defiance. I walked right through the front door, not caring who saw me. When I got to the common area, I saw them. Luca and Serena were tangled together on the couch, surrounded by shopping bags from places I couldn't even afford to look at. Luca looked up and frowned when he saw me standing there. "Oh, hey. I forgot we were supposed to grab dinner tonight," he said. He didn't even sound sorry. He sounded like I was an interruption. "I’m taking Serena to the Vanguard Gala tonight. Her dad invited us," he added. He looked at his watch, clearly wishing I would just go away. "It’s fine, Luca. I wasn't expecting you to remember anyway," I said. My voice didn't tremble. I felt weirdly cold, like the rain had finally frozen my heart shut. "Are you okay? You look... different," he said, squinting at me. "I'm great. Have fun at the gala," I said. I didn't wait for a response. I went straight to my room and pulled my suitcases out from under the bed. I shoved everything I owned into them—my clothes, my books, the photo of my parents. I left the stuff Luca had bought me over the years on the desk. The stuffed bear. The expensive necklace. I didn't want any of it anymore. I stood in the hallway with my bags, feeling Serena's smug gaze on my back. I pulled out my phone and dialed the number Julian had written down. "I'm ready," I said as soon as he picked up. "Does the offer still stand? Because I'm standing in the hallway with two suitcases and no plan B," I told him. There was a brief silence on the other end. "Hold on. Don't move," Julian said. He hung up, and I stood there in the silence of the dorm that used to be my home. Luca came out of his room, adjusting his tuxedo jacket, and stopped dead when he saw my bags. "What are you doing? Where are you going at this hour?" he asked. "Away from here," I said. "Aria, don't be dramatic. We can talk about this after the gala," he said, reaching for my arm. Dramatic. Right. Of course he'd call it that. Just then, a loud, heavy horn honked from the street below. I looked out the window and saw Julian's car idling at the curb, dark and imposing. "That's my ride," I said, pulling my arm away from him. "Is that Vance’s car? Aria, what the hell is going on? Did you really take his offer?" Luca shouted. I didn't give him an explanation. I didn't owe him a single word. I grabbed my suitcases and walked out the door, leaving him standing there in his expensive suit looking completely lost. I made it down to the curb just as Julian stepped out of the car. He didn't say anything as he took my bags and tossed them into the trunk. He opened the passenger door for me, his eyes searching mine for a second. "Are you sure about this?" he asked. "Drive," I said. He nodded, climbed in beside me, and just like that, we drove off. I resisted every urge to look back at the boy I'd spent half of my life yearning for. .............................................................................. Julian’s pov. I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles were turning white, but I kept my face like stone. Inside, I was screaming. I was actually, physically vibrating with the kind of high I haven't felt since I was what, ten years old? She was in my car. Aria Vale was sitting in my passenger seat, her scent of old coffee beans and rain filling up my space. I had waited three years for this exact moment. Most people think I transferred to Westbridge for the hockey program or the business prestige. And it made sense considering those were the excuses I gave my parents to let me come here. But still, that was far fetched, really. The only reason I transferred was because I saw a post on her Instagram three years ago about her getting a scholarship here. I spent my entire freshman year at a different school just watching her from a screen, waiting for the right time to move. I knew Luca was an idiot. I knew he would eventually choose someone shiny and loud like Serena because he has zero taste and even less heart. I was actually on her school profile when it happened. I had been scrolling through her old photos, just like I did every morning, when the notification popped up at the top of my screen. It was a public post on the housing board. "Major accommodation issues. If you have a room I can rent, DM me. Urgent." My heart nearly stopped. I didn't even think. I didn't breathe. I just typed out the reply as fast as my fingers could move. I knew it was public. I knew the whole school would see it. I wanted them to see it. I wanted every single person on this campus to know that if Aria Vale needed a place to go, she was coming to me. I came to this school and I played the role of the quiet, disciplined hockey captain. I walked past her lecture halls every single day, just hoping to catch a glimpse of the back of her head. I knew her schedule better than she did. I knew what time she started her shifts at that shitty coffee shop. I even knew which library table was her favorite because I’d sit three rows back just to watch her study. Some would call it stalking, and yes, I'm not going to bother lying about it. But I was also protecting her. I’d seen the way people looked at her because she was a scholarship girl. I made sure those people knew that if they messed with her, they’d be dealing with Vance. But all that didn't matter anymore because now, all of my hard work had finally paid off. Even though I pretended not to know she was the one I was meeting at the cafeteria... she was here. She was finally here. I pulled into my garage and took a breath, trying to calm my racing heart before I looked at her. "We're here," I said. My voice sounded normal, which was a miracle considering I felt like I was losing my mind. She didn't say anything. She just got out and stood there with her two suitcases. I took them from her, wanting to burn them because they reminded me of the life she lived with that loser. We got up to the apartment and the elevator doors slid open. I gave her the tour, pointing out the kitchen and the living room and the balcony. I watched her face the whole time. It remained icily blank. Totally unfazed by the marble floors or the view that costs more than most people make in a lifetime. I’ve always loved that about her. She doesn't really care about things that aren't hers. She’s hardworking, beautiful, even though she isn’t financially buoyant. She’s herself and doesn’t try to impress anyone or keep up with the campus hot girls, as they call themselves. She has this pride that is so thick you could choke on it. It makes me want to break and bend her so badly, until she only relies on me. "This is your suite," I said, opening the door to the guest wing. She walked in and looked around, her expression still not changing. "Thank you, Julian," she said. Her voice was small, but it was steady. "I mean it. I appreciate you helping me out of that situation," she added. "It’s fine, Aria. I told you I had the space," I said. I was standing too close to her, and I could see the way her eyelashes were still damp from the rain. "I just want to be clear about something," she said, turning to face me. "There is nothing more to this situation. You're helping me, and I'm grateful," she said. She was drawing a line in the tiles, and I wanted to laugh. "I’m going to start paying you rent as soon as I can pick up extra shifts," she continued. "You don't need to worry about money here," I told her. "I do. Because I don't take charity," she snapped. She stepped back into her room and grabbed the handle of the door. "Goodnight, Julian," she said. Then she slammed the door right in my face. I stood there in the hallway for a long time, staring at the dark wood of the door. I bit back a smile until my cheeks actually hurt. I couldn't remember the last time I had been this happy. She could feel like she was doing the right thing by setting boundaries all she wanted. But she was already in my house. She was under my roof, eating my food, and sleeping in a bed I bought. She was mine now, even if she didn't know it yet. My phone started buzzing in my pocket, ruining the moment. I pulled it out and saw my mother’s name on the screen. I sighed and swiped to answer. "Julian. Why am I hearing that you have a guest?" she asked. She didn't even say hello. My mother has people tailing me, and she’s never been subtle about it. "I have a roommate, Mother. It’s a big apartment and I was getting tired of being lonely," I said. I walked over to the window and looked out at the city lights. "Don't lie to me. I know who she is. She’s that girl. Moretti's friend. Come on, son. She's pathetic," my mother said. "Her name is Aria," I corrected her, my voice turning cold. "I don't care what her name is. She is a distraction. You have a reputation to maintain, and the Morettis would love to use this against us," she hissed. "Make sure she does not distract you from your goals, Julian. Or I will make sure she is removed from the equation," she warned. The threat made my blood turn to ice. "If you touch her, I will burn everything you’ve worked for to the ground. I swear it," I said. I didn't wait for her to respond before I hung up. I threw my phone onto the sofa and rubbed my face with my hands. The Vance family was a shark tank, and I had just brought a lamb into the middle of it. But I didn't care. I walked back toward my own bedroom, pausing outside her door one last time. I could hear the faint sound of her moving around inside. She was safe here. I had spent years watching her be treated like an afterthought by a guy who didn't deserve to breathe her air. Now, I was the one who got to see her wake up in the morning. I was the one who got to see her without the mask she wore for the rest of the world. I didn't have any plans on letting her go. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not ever. I went into my room and lay down, staring at the ceiling and listening to the silence of the apartment. It didn't feel empty anymore. It felt full. I thought about the look on Luca’s face when I picked her up. He looked like he had just realized he lost his most valuable possession. He was right. He had lost her, and he was never getting her back. I’d make sure of that. I’d make sure she forgot his name within a month. I couldn't wait for tomorrow morning. I couldn't wait to see her sitting at my table. I was going to make her her favorite tea. I was going to make her the eggs she liked. I was going to show her what it felt like to actually be seen. I drifted off to sleep with a smile on my face for the first time in years. Everything was finally going according to plan. .............................................................................. Aria’s pov. I didn't sleep well. Even though the bed in Julian’s guest suite felt like sleeping on a literal cloud, I spent most of the night staring at the ceiling. The room was too quiet and the air felt too.... I don't know, expensive? I kept waiting for someone to knock on the door and tell me this was all a prank. When I finally dragged myself out of bed, I felt like a zombie in a scholarship girl’s body. I brushed my hair and tried to look like I hadn't spent the night questioning every single life choice I’d made in the last decade. I walked into the kitchen and there he was. Julian was already dressed in a crisp black hoodie and joggers, looking like a professional athlete even before his morning coffee. He pushed a mug of Earl Grey toward me without saying a word. Two drops of honey. Exactly what I needed at that moment. I took a sip and felt the warmth hit my stomach, but it didn't stop the fluttering of nerves. "I have a ten a.m. lecture," I said, breaking the silence. "I know. I'm driving you," he said. He didn't even look up from his tablet. "Julian, you don't have to do this. I can take the bus. I don't want to make things weird," I told him. He finally looked at me, and his gray-blue eyes felt like they were pinning me to the chair. "The bus takes forty minutes. My car takes ten. You need the extra thirty minutes to study," he said pointedly. He wasn't suggesting it. He was stating it like it was a law of physics. Translation, I didn't have a say really. "Are you always this bossy?" I muttered into my tea. "Only when I'm right," he answered. I wanted to argue, but I was too tired to fight with a guy who was giving me a free place to stay. I grabbed my bag and followed him down to the garage. The car ride was silent, but it wasn't a peaceful silence. It was tense. I kept looking at his hands on the steering wheel, wondering why the hockey captain was being so careful with me. When we pulled onto the Westbridge campus, I felt the immediate urge to duck. Julian’s car was a dark, sleek shark in a sea of basic student vehicles. He didn't pull into the parking lot. He drove right up to the front of the main quad. The quad was packed with students grabbing breakfast between classes. "You're making a scene," I whispered, clutching my bag. "Let them look," Julian said. He actually got out of the car and walked around to open my door. I felt like I was walking onto a movie set where I didn't know the lines. "I'll be here at four. Don't be late," he said, his voice carrying just enough for the nearest group of girls to hear. I nodded, confused, and practically ran toward the library entrance. I could hear the whispers starting behind me like a wave. "Is that Aria Vale?" "Since when does Vance let people in his car?" I kept my head down, staring at the pavement until I saw a pair of familiar sneakers. I looked up and my heart stopped. It was Luca. He was standing near the fountain, looking like he hadn't slept either. His tuxedo from last night was gone, replaced by a rumpled hoodie, and his hair was a mess. "Aria," he said, stepping into my path. I tried to walk around him, but he moved to block me. "We need to talk," he said. "I have class, Luca. And I think we said everything last night," I told him. I felt incredibly uncomfortable. People were stopping to watch us. "What were you doing in Julian Vance's car?" he asked. His voice was loud, full of that jealous edge that didn't make sense since he had Serena. "He's my roommate. I told you I was moving," I said. “And I owe you no explanation for what I choose to do with my life.” "Roommate? Aria, are you insane? Do you even know who that guy is?" he shouted. He reached out to grab my wrist, but I stepped back before he could touch me. "I know he's the guy who didn't spend the morning making me listen to him have sex with my roommate," I snapped. A few people nearby gasped, and I saw Luca’s face go pale. "Ri, it’s not like that. I was just... I was distracted," he stammered. "First off, don't call me that. It's Aria to you. And second, you’ve been distracted for ten years, Luca. I'm done waiting for you to look at me," I said. The discomfort was like one helluva huge physical weight now, making me want to crawl into a hole. But I wasn't going to back down from this easily. He needed to know what's on my mind. He needed to know that he up real bad. "Does he know?" Luca asked, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Does he know what?" "Does he know you've been in love with me since we were kids? Or are you just using him to make me jealous?" he sneered. I felt a slap of pure humiliation hit me. Of course he knew. He had always known how I felt, and he’d just let me sit there in the shadows like I was a bloody waiter while he dated everyone else. "He knows I'm a roommate who pays her rent," I lied, my voice cold. "And even if I was using him, at least he's worth the effort. Unlike you," I added. Luca looked like I’d actually punched him in the gut. He opened his mouth to say something else, but then he looked over my shoulder and froze. I turned around and saw Julian’s car hadn't moved. Julian was leaning against the driver's side door, his arms crossed over his chest. He wasn't doing anything. He was just watching. But the way he was looking at Luca was so intense, so dark, that it felt like the temperature in the quad dropped ten degrees. "Leave her the hell alone, Luca," Julian said. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the noise of the quad perfectly. I didn’t know what this was all about between them, but I wouldn’t be the reason they caused a scene here. I looked back at Luca one last time. He looked small. He looked like a boy trying to play a man’s game. "Stay away from me, Luca. I'm being serious as this time," I said. I walked away, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst through my ribs. "!" I heard Luca cuss behind me. For a minute, it actually sounded like he felt mad at himself for letting me go. But then again, you can't wipe a leopard's skin spotless. He was never going to change and that was the truth. .............................................................................. ARIA’S POV Avoidance should be an Olympic sport. If it were, I’d have gold by noon. I left my last lecture five minutes early, slipped out through the side stairwell instead of the main hall, and took the long route behind the science building just to avoid the quad. Every corner I turned felt like a potential ambush. Whispers followed me anyway. They didn’t need to see me to talk about me. I kept walking. Head down. AirPods in. Music off. The parking lot came into view, and I exhaled slowly. If I could just make it to the curb where Julian said he’d pick me up, I could survive the day. Then I heard my name. “Aria!” Of course. I didn’t turn around. “Aria, please.” The word please made me pause despite myself. Stupid heart. Stupid history. I turned slowly. Luca looked wrecked. Not the artfully messy, campus golden boy version of wrecked. Actually wrecked. Dark circles under his eyes. Jaw tight. Shoulders slumped like something inside him had finally cracked. He walked toward me carefully, like I was a wild animal he didn’t want to spook. “Can we just talk? Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.” “You’ve had ten years,” I replied evenly. He flinched. “I know. I know I screwed up. I was selfish. I thought—you were always there, Aria. You were solid. I didn’t think I had to fight for you.” “That’s the problem,” I said quietly. “You never did.” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing once before stopping in front of me. “Last night was a mistake.” I stared at him. “You didn’t seem confused,” I said. His jaw flexed. “Serena doesn’t mean anything.” The irony almost made me laugh. “But I do?” I asked. “Yes!” he burst out. “You always have.” I felt something inside me tremble and then harden. “Then why did I have to listen to you with her?” I asked. “Why did I have to sit there and pretend I wasn’t dying inside?” He swallowed hard. “I was distracted,” he repeated, desperate now. “The pressure, the team, my dad breathing down my neck about law school. I was just… not thinking straight.” “Ten years, Luca,” I said softly. “You’ve been ‘not thinking straight’ for ten years.” His expression shifted then. Less pleading. More calculating. “And now what?” he said. “You’re thinking straight? By moving in with Julian Vance?” There it was. He stepped closer. “Do you even know who that guy is? You think he’s helping you out of the goodness of his heart? Aria, Julian doesn’t do charity. He doesn’t breathe without a reason.” My stomach twisted. “He’s manipulative,” Luca continued. “Everything he does is strategic. You’re a move to him. A statement. He probably gets off on messing with me.” “That’s rich,” I muttered. “I’m serious,” he pressed. “He doesn’t care about you. He cares about control. You think it’s a coincidence he made a whole scene this morning? He wanted people to see.” My chest tightened. Because part of me knew that was true. Julian had wanted them to see. “But at least he didn’t humiliate me,” I shot back. Luca’s eyes darkened. “You’re making a mistake,” he said quietly. “He’s not safe.” “And you are?” I asked. Silence. Then, a low, familiar engine cut through the tension. Every nerve in my body snapped to attention. Julian’s car turned into the parking lot. Of course he was right on time. Like always. Students immediately slowed their steps. Heads turned. Phones subtly lifted. A small crowd was already forming near the edge of the lot. And Serena was there. Standing near the entrance with two of her sorority friends, arms crossed, expression thunderous. This was becoming a show. Luca noticed the car too. His posture stiffened. “See?” he muttered. “Right on cue.” The car rolled closer. Closer. I could feel it, the narrative forming in real time. Scholarship girl caught between two campus elites. Poor Aria. Indecisive Aria. Desperate Aria. No. Not today. I was done being the girl people felt sorry for. I stepped forward. “Aria, don’t,” Luca warned, reaching for my arm. But this time, I didn’t step back. I walked straight toward the car. Julian slowed, confusion flickering across his face for half a second before the mask slipped back into place. He stopped directly in front of me. The window rolled down. “You’re early,” he said calmly. Behind me, I heard Luca move. “Aria, this is stupid…” His fingers brushed my wrist. That was it. Something inside me snapped. I opened the passenger door. And instead of sliding in, I leaned across the console, grabbed Julian by the collar of his hoodie and kissed him. Gasps exploded around us. For half a second, Julian froze. Just long enough for me to register the shock in his body. Then, he moved. His hand came up, sliding into my hair, gripping, not painfully, but firmly. Possessively. He kissed me back. Not soft. Not hesitant. Deep. Demanding. Like he’d been waiting. The world tilted. My lungs forgot how to function. This was supposed to be strategic. A statement. A weapon. But Julian didn’t kiss like a man playing a game. He kissed like a man claiming something he already believed was his. His other hand slid to my waist, pulling me fully into the car, chest to chest across the center console. My knees hit the seat. My fingers tightened in his hoodie. Heat flooded through me so fast it made my head spin. The parking lot disappeared. The crowd disappeared. There was only the pressure of his mouth, the controlled hunger in the way he angled his head, the quiet, dangerous intensity vibrating beneath his restraint. I made a small, involuntary sound against his lips. That seemed to snap him back. He pulled away slowly. Too slowly. His gray-blue eyes were darker than I’d ever seen them. Not confused. Not amused. Possessive. His thumb brushed once against my jaw before he released me. The silence in the parking lot was deafening. Julian looked past me. Straight at Luca. His expression shifted into something lethal. He stepped out of the car, closing the distance with unhurried confidence. Luca stood his ground, but I saw it, the hesitation. Julian stopped just close enough to make the message clear. “The lady said to leave her alone,” he said evenly. Each word landed like a controlled detonation. “Leave. Her. Alone.” A beat. “Don’t make me force you to.” No shouting. No theatrics. Just certainty. Luca’s fists clenched. But he didn’t move. Julian held his gaze a second longer, then turned away like Luca wasn’t worth another second of oxygen. He walked back to the driver’s seat. Got in. And without another word, he drove off. Fast. The campus blurred past the windows. My heart was still racing. My lips were still tingling. My brain was still trying to process what had just happened. I had kissed him to get back at Luca. That was the plan. But the way Julian had kissed me back? That hadn’t been part of it. Silence filled the car. Thick. Charged. After a full minute, he spoke. “Was that tactical,” he asked calmly, eyes on the road, “or should I start worrying about my self-control?” I swallowed. “I needed him to stop,” I said. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “He’ll stop,” Julian replied quietly. There was something in his tone that made my stomach flip again. Not relief. Not satisfaction. Promise. I turned to look at him. “Julian…” He glanced at me briefly. And for the first time since I’d met him, the mask was gone. What was underneath wasn’t indifference. It wasn't a strategy. It was something far more dangerous. “I don’t do things halfway, Aria,” he said softly. My pulse stuttered. And for the first time since I’d moved into his guest suite, I realized I might have just started something I wasn’t prepared to finish.

🇬🇧

Track InkTrend and get alerts for new ads

Create a free account to follow brands, save ads and search the full library.