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Chapter 1 The Countdown Ends It was the year 2027, and the end of the world was now less than an hour away. "00:59:23" Riley Carter stood on a ladder with a screw clenched between her teeth, an impact driver in her hand, securing the last window panel in place. A month ago, that timer had just appeared out of nowhere, hanging in the corner of everyone's vision like it had always been there. At first, people wrote it off as some kind of mass hacker prank. The government fed the media soothing statements in an attempt to keep things calm, but there was no way to talk down the panic as prices kept rising and supplies were held in a monopoly in real time. News outlets might spin whatever narrative they wanted, but no one could argue with the price of eggs. For a while, it was a frenzy. People cleaned out grocery stores like locusts. The government did what they could—price caps, purchase limits, reassurances from the podium—but none of it mattered. The cost of living kept climbing, and bit by bit, the country started coming apart at the seams. Online, it was a circus. Some people posted doom-laden predictions. Others openly celebrated the thought of the world finally burning. A few just seemed relieved they wouldn't have to clock in on Monday. In that final hour, things got truly ugly. Both on the streets and on social media, it was chaos. Some people figured why not went out with a bang? If the world was ending, they'd spend their last hours doing every reckless thing they'd ever fantasized about. Others, paralyzed by fear of whatever was coming, scrambled for anything they could hoard. Supplies. Weapons. Gasoline. Didn't matter what, as long as they had more of it than the next guy. Most people just wanted to be with the ones they loved. Riley didn't have that luxury anymore. Fresh out of community college, she'd lost both her parents in a highway pileup eighteen months back. The only thing they'd left her was the family hardware store, a cramped little place wedged between a laundromat and a taqueria. She'd been running it solo for just over a year when that d*mn countdown appeared overhead. At first, she'd thought maybe an apocalypse wouldn't be the worst thing. Maybe there'd be something on the other side. A reunion. But then she thought about her folks. They'd doted on her. Made her feel like the center of their world. And even though she'd grown a thick skin since going it alone, feeling indifferent to the world, she knew what they'd want. They'd want her to fight. To stay. She was the only piece of them still left in this world. People always say you aren't really gone until the last person forgets your name. As long as she kept breathing, kept carrying them with her another day, they weren't truly dead. Riley spat the screw into her palm, face calm, the impact driver whirring as she sank another fastener into the reinforced frame. "Flour's three hundred a pound now, and you can't even buy it straight—they make you tack on a bunch of other junk you don't need just to get it," she muttered to herself, shaking her head. When that timer first flickered into existence, Riley had done something smart. She'd liquidated everything. Converted every dollar she could scrape together into supplies. Unfortunately, by the time she hit the stores, inflation had already done its damage. Her savings didn't go nearly as far as they should have. Any cash that was left went toward tools. If the world was ending, she thought they could be useful. Riley pressed the last sheet of thick insulation foam into the window frame, seating it flush against the reinforced plywood beneath. The impact driver snarled as she buried the screws. Then she reached for her pneumatic glue gun—a satisfying pfft as the sealant filled the final gap. She wiped sweat from her forehead and climbed down off the ladder. Stepped back to admire her work. The little apartment was a fortress now. Doors reinforced. Windows barricaded. Every interior wall lined with an extra layer of insulation. She glanced down at herself. Custom-fit heavy-duty workwear. Slash-resistant fabric. More pockets than she'd ever need. Reinforced padding at the knees and elbows. It wasn't fashionable, but it was practical. And her real treasure: tools. A chainsaw. A reciprocating saw. The impact driver in her hand. A multi-bit screwdriver that had cost more than she wanted to admit. She'd brought everything usable from the shop back here, consolidated it into three massive toolboxes. She'd also grabbed some stuff like an air purifier and some spare filters—anything that might matter when civilization took a vacation. She didn't know what the countdown would bring. Some folks online predicted zombies. Others said asteroid impact. Volcanic winter. Alien invasion. Take your pick. Food. Tools. Shelter. She'd even started working out, building strength she'd never needed before. She'd done everything she could think of to prepare. Whatever was coming, she figured she'd last longer than most. With nothing left to do, she dropped onto one of the big toolboxes laid flat on the floor, wiped her forehead again, and pulled out her phone. Most news apps had crashed. The only things still loading were comment sections, and they were going crazy. [Anyone got rice? I'll pay eight grand for a bag. Please, we got nothing left.] [Forget it, man. Money's toilet paper now. Saw it with my own eyes—some rich assholes cleared out the Costco warehouse last week. All that 'purchase limit' crap was just theater. Shelves were empty 'cause the stock never made it there. It's all sitting in some hedge fund guy's basement.] [No kidding? Same thing happened to me! Store manager kept telling me, 'We're limiting purchases, come back next week, we'll put your name on the list.' So the whole time the back room was empty? They were just jerking us around?] [Of course they were. Rich people cornered the market on everything. So what are normal people supposed to do? Just sit here and die?] [Anyone know what actually happens when the clock hits zero? Like, is it nukes? That virus thing from that old video game?] Riley locked her phone. Tucked it away. She didn't have anything to add to that conversation. A month ago, when the countdown first showed up, prices had spiked instantly. A fifty-pound bag of rice that normally went for thirty bucks jumped to eight hundred overnight. By yesterday, it was breaking two grand. The wealthy had rolled up with trucks and cleaned out supermarkets. Riley had been smart—she'd gone early, bought stuff that would keep, stuff that was calorie-dense and cheap. Chocolate. Survival biscuits. Canned goods. It wasn't much, but it was enough for one person, at least for a while. She took a deep breath and glanced at the timer. "00:01:10" Just over a minute. Riley gripped the toolbox beneath her. Knuckles white. Who knew what would happen when that thing hit zero? Maybe it'd be like 2012—all hype, nothing real. In that last minute, her life flickered past. Her parents' faces. The hardware store. The lonely months since. "00:00:00" The countdown ended. Riley had just started to breathe a sigh of relief—nothing happened, maybe it really was nothing—when the world lurched beneath her. A dizzying weightlessness. A sensation of falling. Everything spun. ***** She didn't know how long she was out. "Whew." A wind like a knife blade sliced across her face. Riley's eyes snapped open. Her warm apartment was gone. In its place, an endless white expanse stretched in every direction. Snow whipped through the air. Wind howled like a wounded animal. And at her feet, a small campfire guttered in the gale, threatening to die at any second. "What the—" Before she could process, a chime rang directly in her skull. Not heard. Known. "Welcome to the Extreme Cold Survival Game. "Earth no longer exists. This is your new home. This is your grave. "Survival rules are as follows. "1. Each player begins with one campfire. It is your only defense against the cold. If the campfire dies, you will be judged deceased by the system. Not that it matters—without the fire, you won't last anyway. "2. This is a real world. You can die from hunger. From exposure. From animal attack. "3. Supplies stockpiled in your previous world do not carry over. Only items on your person, or in direct physical contact at the moment of transfer, are retained. "4. Struggle to survive. It is your only hope." Riley's heart slammed against her ribs. Supplies didn't carry over? Her mind flashed to those wealthy forum posters bragging about their warehouse stockpiles. And then she looked down at herself. Workwear. Intact. And— She was still sitting on the three giant toolboxes. They sat solidly in the snow, dusted with powder, unmistakably here. "Whew." Riley let out a long breath. A white cloud dispersed in front of her face. Pity, though. During her renovations, she'd stocked those boxes with a lot of power tools. The expensive impact driver. The reciprocating saw. In a world with no electrical outlets, once those batteries died, they were just dead weight. But even so. The hand tools. The consumables. The sheer volume of stuff in those boxes—it was a treasure beyond measure in a place like this. Riley forced herself to calm down. She was here. She'd deal with it. Something new lived in her mind now. She concentrated, and a translucent pale-blue screen materialized in front of her eyes. Looked just like a video game HUD. "Personal Panel "Name: Riley Carter "ID: 1120-US "Level: 1 (Standard Survivor) "Strength: 8 (Years of manual labor have made you stronger than average) "Agility: 8 (You've got quick reflexes) "Constitution: 6 (You've been skipping meals lately) "Spirit: 9 (You keep your head when others panic) "Inventory: 16/16 slots (Base capacity)" "Inventory?" Riley studied the sixteen empty squares at the bottom of the display. She reached out, touched one of the toolboxes, and thought the word, "Store." Whoosh. The heavy box vanished. In its place, a tiny icon appeared in the first inventory slot, a miniature "x1" in the corner. "It actually worked." For the first time since arriving, a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Retrieve. Thud. The toolbox landed back in the snow, puffing up powder. No energy cost. No sense of weight. And in that inventory, she could carry anything, regardless of how heavy it was. Later on, when she went scavenging, that would make all the difference. Riley rubbed her stiff, freezing hands together and turned her attention to the campfire at her feet. It was the only warmth in this frozen wasteland. Hovering above the flames, visible only to her, were a few lines of glowing text. "Basic Campfire (Lv.1) "Remaining Burn Time: 05:28:00 "Current Coverage: Radius six feet (Blocks wind and snow) "Upgrade Requirements: Wood x50, Stone x20, Coal x10, Steel x5 "Description: This is your life. Do not let it die. Upgrading expands your safe zone and unlocks additional construction options." "Needs upgrading." Riley frowned. Wood and stone she could probably find. But coal? Steel? Out here in the middle of nowhere? A flash of movement caught her eye. A small wooden box, half-buried in the snow not far from the fire. The starter crate. Had to be. Riley didn't rush. First, she pulled the claw hammer from her belt—the one she always kept there, habit from years of work—and gripped it tight. She scanned the tree line. Listened past the wind. Nothing moved. No sounds but the storm. She walked over quickly, crouched by the box. No lock. She pried the lid open with the claw end of her hammer. Inside, a handful of items. "Obtained: Iron Axe x1 "Obtained: Stale Dark Bread x2 "Obtained: 500ml Bottled Water x1 "Obtained: Kindling x5 "Obtained: Insulated Field Jacket x1 "Obtained: Utility Rope (25ft) "Obtained: Thermal Underwear (Set) x2 Not much. Barely anything. Riley picked up one of the dark loaves. It was rock hard. She examined the jacket—basic, but warm-looking. "So this is what a standard survivor starts with." At least the system had thought of everything. Including the underwear. She'd half-expected to wake up naked in the snow; at least she didn't have to worry about that. She stored everything in her inventory, then shrugged on the field jacket. The temperature shift was brutal. Even those few seconds exposed had left her hands numb. Hypothermia would set in fast out here. Jacket on, she hurried back to the campfire. She pulled the five units of Kindling from her inventory and tossed them onto the flames. The fire roared higher. Warmth flooded over her. "Fuel added. Remaining Burn Time: 10:28:00" Ten hours. If she didn't move fast, in ten hours she'd freeze to death on this ice field. And the game had made it clear—if the fire died, the system would judge her dead. Whether she actually froze or not. Riley lifted her head and scanned the landscape. She was in a sparse coniferous forest. Barely alive trees, crusted with frost, dotted the area not far from her position. "Wood." A slow smile spread across her face. She patted the toolbox beside her. "Other people might have axes. But felling a tree with just an axe takes hours. Exhausts you." She unlatched the box. Pulled out the chainsaw. Checked the battery gauge—full. "I've got a handsaw in here too. And a chainsaw with a full charge." The battery wouldn't last forever. But it would last long enough to give her a massive head start. In this race for survival, that was everything. Chapter 2 The Chainsaw The wind screamed across the open ground, picking up loose snow and flinging it against her goggles like sand. It sounded like static. Riley had pulled her basic work gear from the toolbox before heading out. Now she stood in the snow, surrounded by clusters of thin conifers that looked half-dead already. She took a breath. The air burned going down. "Zzzzzzz—!!!" She squeezed the trigger. The orange-and-black lithium-ion chainsaw in her hands roared to life, the chain spinning so fast it blurred. She buried the teeth in the nearest pine trunk. Wood chips exploded everywhere. Fragrant shavings—still wet with resin—scattered across the pristine snow, stark and yellow against all that white. Five seconds. Crack. The pine tree, thick as her arm, groaned and tilted. Then it fell slow and heavy into a drift, sending up a puff of powder. "God bless modern technology." Riley shook out her wrist—the vibration had numbed her fingers—and allowed herself a small smile. Without that chainsaw, with just the basic iron axe the system had given her, felling a tree frozen solid like this would have taken twenty minutes minimum. And it would have left her soaked with sweat. In subzero temps, sweat was a death sentence. Once your base layers got wet, the moment you stopped moving, your body temperature would plummet. Hypothermia would follow fast. Riley didn't waste time celebrating. She knew the saw in her hands was a hungry machine. She'd brought two spare high-capacity batteries, sure, but until she found a way to recharge them, every second the motor ran was borrowed time. She had to gather as much wood as possible before the batteries gave out. "Zzzzz—Zzzzz—" At the edge of the forest, the chainsaw's snarl rose and fell, shattering the frozen silence. Riley worked like she was possessed. Fell a tree. Move to the next. Fell another. But she had to stay alert—watch for hidden snow pits underfoot, keep adjusting her collar against the wind that kept finding its way down her neck. Her stamina drained faster than she'd anticipated. In extreme cold, body burned through calories just to stay alive. Added walking through knee-deep snow, where every step took three times the energy of walking on pavement, and the math got ugly fast. Pretty soon, Riley was breathing hard. Her breath fogged the inside of her goggles, and she had to keep wiping them clear. "Zzzzz..." She was mid-cut on a tree—didn't even know which number anymore—when the chainsaw's roar stuttered. Died. The chain jammed solid in the wood. A red light blinked at her. Dead battery. Riley yanked the saw free and patted its housing. "Good work, buddy." Genuine regret in her voice. She straightened up and looked around. Pine trunks lay scattered across the snow in every direction. A decent haul. She counted silently. "Twenty-three total." Then the next problem hit her. According to the system, until she actually possessed these logs, they were still just natural resources. That meant they didn't qualify for Inventory storage. She couldn't just snap her fingers and make them disappear. She had to drag them back to camp. Riley grabbed the nearest pine and tried to pull. Heavy. Like, unreasonably heavy. Fresh-cut wood was full of moisture. Add the branches catching in the snow, dragging like anchors, and she felt like she was hauling a dead body through mud. "Huff... huff..." She gritted her teeth, looped rope around the trunk, slung it over her shoulder, leaned forward, and started walking. Inch by inch. The tree line to her campfire was maybe fifty yards. Right now, it felt like fifty miles. By the time she'd wrestled the fourth tree back into the fire's warm radius, she was wrecked. Her legs felt like someone had filled them with concrete. Her lungs burned from hauling freezing air through them. "Can't... can't do more." Riley made the call. She stopped. Those nineteen trees still out there in the snow—they called to her. Tempted her. But if she kept pushing without rest, without fuel for herself, she'd collapse out there. And out there, collapse meant death. She dropped down next to the big wooden crate that had held her starter supplies. It was less than three feet from the campfire. The flames danced orange and red, pumping out heat that felt like heaven. The shift from frozen to warm made her shiver violently. She pulled off her goggles and thick gloves, set them near the fire to warm up, then—still shaking—pulled the half-empty water bottle from her Inventory. Took a small sip. Then the bread. Two black bricks that looked more like construction material than food. "Crunch." Riley bit off a piece with effort. It was coarse. Tasted like sawdust with a hint of burnt toast. Bitter. But it was calories. Carbs. Fuel for her own fire. She forced herself to chew, swallow. When the food hit her stomach, warmth finally started spreading through her core. The uncontrollable shaking eased. After half a loaf, Riley leaned back against the crate. Her eyelids drooped. Post-exhaustion crash hit her like a wave. The campfire crackled. The wind seemed farther away now. Muffled. She really wanted to sleep... Her head nodded. Her body started sliding sideways. "Wait—" Some animal instinct jolted her awake just before she went under. She pinched her thigh. Hard. Then looked up at the timer floating above the flames. "Shelter Level 1 "Campfire Burn Time Remaining: 06:28:00" Six and a half hours. If she slept too deep, too long, and that fire went out—what then? Even ignoring the obvious—that she'd freeze to death in this hellhole without a heat source—the game rules were clear. When the campfire hits zero, it's game over. "No sleeping. Not allowed." Riley slapped her own cheeks, forced herself upright. She stayed near the fire, but she didn't take off her heavy work clothes. She remembered reading something once, a survival article. "In the late stages of hypothermia, your hypothalamus malfunctions. You get a false sensation of heat. It's called "paradoxical undressing"—people strip down right before they freeze to death." "Okay. Process these four. Keep the fire fed." She pulled a traditional handsaw from the toolbox. Looking at the four thick pine logs on the ground, she almost laughed. Without power tools, breaking these down into burnable pieces would take at least half an hour. Burn the little energy she had left. But what choice did she have? Riley knelt in the snow, positioned the blade against the trunk, and was about to start cutting— A soft white light shot out from the system panel on her chest. It washed over the logs. "Ding! "Detected felled, intact logs within shelter range. "Perform quick recovery?" Riley's hand froze mid-saw. Quick recovery? It took her a second to process. Then relief flooded through her so hard she almost cried. "Yes! Recover!" She didn't hesitate. The next moment, something impossible happened. The four pine trunks—the ones she'd have to saw and split by hand, the ones that represented hours of brutal labor—dissolved into pale blue light particles. Not into dust. Into neat, uniform logs that stacked themselves automatically in her Inventory. The branches, the needles, all the useless parts—purified out of existence. "Recovery successful! "Obtained: Common Wood x20" Riley's eyes went wide, staring at the perfect lumber in her inventory display. Looked like it came straight from a hardware store. "One tree gives five units of wood? "And I don't have to cut it myself?" This changed everything. It meant she only had to handle the felling and the dragging. Once a log crossed into her camp's boundary, the system recognized it as hers. The most time-consuming part—the processing—just... didn't exist anymore. Riley immediately grabbed five units of wood and fed them to the fire. Whoosh. The flames leaped, hungry and grateful. "Fuel added. "Campfire Burn Time Remaining: 12:20:00" "Five logs, five hours..." She did the math fast, looking at the fifteen units still on the ground. If she threw all of those in, that'd be another fifteen hours. Total of twenty-seven. She could sleep like the dead right now, and that fire would still be burning when she woke up. Security. For the first time since the world ended, Riley felt something like security. She selected the remaining wood. Deposited it all. Watched the countdown tick up to a very comfortable "27:20:00". Then her nerves finally let go. She dragged one of the toolboxes into position to block the wind, wrapped the field jacket tight around herself, pulled her hat down over her eyes, leaned back against the warm crate, and let the crackle of the fire pull her under. ***** She didn't sleep long. When she opened her eyes again, the sky was still that same dull gray-white. Impossible to tell if it was morning or afternoon. System clock said three hours. Her body ached. Shoulders and arms especially—felt like she'd gone ten rounds with someone. But her head was clear. She stretched her stiff neck and stood up. The snow seemed lighter. The feathery flakes had tapered off into sporadic icy grains. Riley ate a little more, got some fuel back in the tank, then stepped outside the campfire's warmth. The fire's effect wasn't what she'd expected. It wasn't that the temperature gradually dropped as you moved away. It was sharper than that. Like there was an invisible barrier around the flames. Inside, livable. Outside, the cold hit you like a wall. She wandered a little way off. The cold found every gap in her clothing. She thought about going farther, exploring. But there was nothing visible except that stand of trees she'd already worked. Maybe stuff was buried under the snow, but she couldn't see it. "No proper snow boots. Not going far." Riley glanced at the endless white distance with real regret. "Don't get greedy. Get those nineteen trees first." She turned. Looked at the woods. Her loot was still out there. And now she knew: if she could drag them back into the campfire's circle, the system would cash them out automatically. "Time to work." Riley rubbed her hands together. Let the motivation build. For the next few hours, she became a machine. Drag a tree to camp. Recover it. Go back for another. Repeat. It was boring. Exhausting. But watching those logs turn into numbers in her inventory—that feeling was hard to describe. Satisfying, in a way nothing had been satisfying in a long time. When the last pine trunk crossed into the light and dissolved into particles, Riley just collapsed. Lay flat in the snow and stared at the gray sky. She pulled up her Inventory. The once-empty slots were full now. Stack after stack of wood icons. "Item: Common Wood "Quantity: 80 "Description: Basic survival resource. Can be used for fuel or construction." Eighty units. Plus what was already burning in the campfire. Her day's work had yielded a clean hundred. One unit of wood burned for one hour. Riley looked at the flames dancing in front of her. Felt the heat on her face. Let herself smile, wide and real. "One hundred hours." Four full days. While everyone else was probably still panicking. Crying. Begging. Trying to figure out how to survive their first night in this frozen nightmare... She, Riley, had enough fuel stockpiled to last four days. Which meant: for the next ninety-six hours, unless she actively chose to die, nobody and nothing could put her fire out. She pulled the half-empty water bottle from Inventory. The space must have been insulated somehow—the water was still warm. Almost body temperature. She sipped it. Tasted sweet, even though it was just tap water. "Okay. Next step." Her gaze settled on the "Upgrade" button on the campfire panel. This open-air setup was fine for now. But if she was going to survive long-term, she needed something better. A real shelter. All she needed was a little stone. Some coal. Some steel. Then she could build something worth calling home. Chapter 3 The Trading Game The blizzard howled outside, but within the six-foot radius of the campfire, the air stayed surprisingly warm—like the wind had hit an invisible wall and just couldn't reach. Riley leaned back against the dusty wooden crate, holding the half-empty water bottle in her hand. She stared into the flames for a moment, then focused her attention inward. The pale blue system panel unfolded in front of her eyes again. Now that the immediate crisis was handled, she finally had time to sit quietly and really explore this so-called "Survival System". Beyond the personal stats and inventory, the bottom of the panel had a row of function icons: Server Channel, Friends List, Trading Market, and Crafting Manual. Friends List was empty. No surprise there. She hadn't exactly been a social butterfly back in the old world, and she sure as hell wasn't going to make friends easily in a frozen hellscape where everyone was fighting for their next breath. She tapped into the "Server Channel". A line of numbers appeared in the top left. "Server: US-008 "Current Online: 9911/10000" Ten thousand people started. Less than ten hours in, eighty-nine were already gone. "That doesn't add up." Everyone's starter crate came with a rusty iron axe and five units of wood. Plus the initial fuel the campfire had when they arrived—that alone bought them ten hours minimum, even if they just sat there doing nothing. What the hell did those people do to get eliminated so fast? The channel was moving fast, messages scrolling by every second. Desperation dripped from every line. "Someone help, I'm freezing my ass off out here. This stupid axe can't cut sh*t—every swing just bounces off and rattles my whole arm. Can anyone spare a couple logs? My dad's a senior VP at Walker Group. I'll wire you a million dollars when we get back, I swear." "Wake up, buddy. If your dad's still alive, he's out there chopping trees right now too." "Don't even talk to me. I spotted a wooden crate in the snow earlier, got all excited, ran over—and before I got within ten feet, some white rabbit thing jumped out of a drift. Teeth like needles. Almost took a chunk out of my leg. Missed the crate, wasted all that energy for nothing." "I saw that too! Random crates spawn in the wild. I opened a wooden one and got two chocolate bars and some coal." Reading through the chaos, Riley picked out two keywords, "Random Reward Crates" and "Dangerous Creatures". So this world was deeper than she thought. Wooden crates, copper crates—these randomly spawning resource points were the real way to get ahead. Coal came from crates. That was useful to know. And if coal was in crates, steel probably was too. But something bothered her. According to what people were saying, reward crates weren't exactly rare. So why hadn't she found a single one during her lumber run? She doubted it was just bad luck. Riley exited chat and tapped into the "Trading Market". "Seller: MountainMan88 Item: Stone x2 Wants: White Bread x5" "Seller: LoneWolf_21 Item: Cotton Cloth Wants: Clean Water" "Seller: NotDeadYet Item: Wood x3 Wants: Anything edible" Most people were trading for food and wood. The stuff that kept you alive right now. Things like stone and cloth were getting dumped cheap—nobody had the luxury of thinking long-term. Riley looked at her own inventory. Eighty units of wood staring back at her. Her heart beat a little faster. In this opening phase, where wood literally meant the difference between life and death, the resources in her hands were basically gold bars. "Time to trade," she muttered to herself. "Coal, steel—can't get those from chopping trees. And right now, wood's at maximum value. If I wait, the exchange rate shifts." Even with the chainsaw dead, she still had the handsaw. Less efficient, sure, but she could gather more wood if she needed it. Short-term, she wasn't going to run out. She clicked to post a message in the channel. "System Prompt: Detected that you have not set a virtual ID. Please enter your nickname (cannot be changed after setting)." Riley stared at the blank input box. Naming things was the worst. She sat there for a long time, nothing coming to mind. Finally, she gave up. Couldn't think of anything cool or clever, so she'd just go with something random. Her fingers tapped across the virtual keyboard—SpicyBurger. "Setting successful. ID locked." The prompt closed. Riley posted her message. "SpicyBurger: Selling wood in bulk. Looking for: Coal, Steel, High-calorie food. DM me with offers—what you have and your rate. Good deals go fast, don't sleep on this." For three seconds after the message appeared, the channel went dead silent. Then it exploded. "SpicyBurger? That name's making me hungry, what the hell." "Never mind the name—'wood in bulk'! We got a whale in here! Everyone else is stressing about the next hour and this person's already running a business?" "I need some! My campfire's down to like two hours. I don't know if I actually die when it hits zero but I don't wanna find out." Suddenly, half the channel was scrambling for wood. But then the skeptics crawled out. "Hang on. Everyone started with the same rusty axe. Chopping a tree in this weather takes twenty, thirty minutes minimum. Where's she getting 'bulk' wood from? Sounds like a scam." "InvincibleWarrior: Everybody chill. Look at that ID—sounds like a girl's handle. I'm a grown man, been busting my ass, and I've only got like ten logs saved up. My hands are shredded. Some girl with a food name claims she's got bulk? She's trying to run a game. Scam people out of their stuff." "Iron_Tough: Agreed. Scammers made it through the apocalypse too, I guess. My advice: ignore her. Don't get played. How much wood can a woman chop anyway? Probably can't even lift the axe right, lol." Riley scrolled through the messages, expression flat. She almost laughed. But some people pushed back. "FishHater44: How is it a scam? If she doesn't deliver, you don't complete the trade. Just 'cause you can't chop that much wood doesn't mean nobody can." Riley nodded slightly. That one had a point. But she didn't waste energy arguing in the channel. Instead, she flipped on Do Not Disturb for private messages—only allowing chat requests that included a trade offer. Some people didn't actually care whether she had wood. They just couldn't stand seeing someone else do well. "Ding. Ding. Ding." Private messages started pouring in like rain. Most players weren't idiots. Faced with the very real threat of freezing to death, they'd try anything for a chance. Riley opened the first one. "Windwalker: I got "Coal x3" from a crate. How much wood can I get for it? I can't chop anymore. The wind out here is insane. I tried to throw the coal in my fire but it just kept popping back out. System says my campfire level's too low, won't let me use it. I'm out of wood. My fire's almost dead." Riley thought for a moment. "Three coal for five wood. Deal?" She hadn't known about that restriction. Coal was supposed to be better fuel than wood—didn't expect the game to lock it behind a level gate. The reply came instantly, "Deal. But five wood feels light. It's coal." The guy was conflicted. He knew coal had value, but he was desperate. "I'll make it six. Final offer." Riley wasn't sure about coal's real value yet. Six was her limit. "Fine. Deal." They both dropped their items into the trade window. A moment later, it completed. A flash of white light. Riley's inventory lost six wood. Gained three chunks of coal, each about the size of a small melon. One down. "CrunchyFrog: Hey, I got two "Iron Ingots" from a crate. System calls them "Scrap Steel". Can I get eight wood for them? Trying to stock up enough to sleep through the night." Riley replied, "Sure. Initiate." In just over ten minutes, her wood stockpile dropped significantly. But her inventory filled up with good stuff. "Coal x10 "Stone x23 "Scrap Steel x5 "Raw Meat x2 "White Bread x2 "Basic Torch Blueprint x1" The blueprint was new. The description said it was required for crafting certain items. Seemed useful, so she'd traded for it. Meanwhile, back in the channel, that "InvincibleWarrior" guy who'd been mocking her earlier seemed to notice that people were actually completing trades. His tone got bitter. "InvincibleWarrior: Whatever. She probably got lucky with a high-tier crate. Let's see how long her stock lasts. Once the wood's gone, she'll be begging me to let her join my group." The people who'd successfully traded with Riley popped into the channel to thank her. That might have been fine—except the thanks caused problems. Since Riley had stopped trading for now, most people hadn't gotten anything. And the sky was darkening. Temperature outside the campfire radius was dropping fast. Gathering wood was getting harder. Trading was their only hope. The ones who'd pinned everything on Riley, seeing her stop, started losing it. "You said 'in bulk'! You did like five trades and quit. What are we supposed to do now?" "Keep trading! My fire's almost out. You want us to go chop trees in the dark?" "If you couldn't deliver, why'd you post? Showing off and then hiding." Whether it was coordinated or just genuine rage, the number of people defending Riley in the channel shrank fast. Mostly it was attacks now. Accusations of being irresponsible. Using scarcity tactics. Playing games with people's lives. Riley closed the channel. She couldn't be bothered. In a life-or-death situation like this, people losing it was normal. If she actually had unlimited resources, she'd trade more. But she didn't. And back on Earth, nobody had ever handed her anything out of charity. She wasn't about to start playing savior now. She looked down at the "Basic Torch Blueprint" in her inventory. "Requirements: Wood x10, Kerosene, Scrap Steel x2" Note: Requires Level 2 Workbench to craft." She leaned back against the crate again. Felt the weight of her stockpile pressing back against that lingering sense of unease. In this world, your ID didn't matter. Your gender didn't matter either. What mattered was who held the resources. She looked at what she had left: 36 units of wood. Plus the steel, coal, and stone from trading. Time to plan. Upgrading to a Level 2 campfire required 55 wood. She had all the other materials. For the wood, she'd just have to use the handsaw tomorrow and gather a little more. That settled, she pulled a few more logs from inventory and arranged them on top of the crate, making a small enclosed space. Curled up inside it, she watched the sky outside slowly darken to black. Her eyes grew heavy. She drifted off. —————————————————— For more exciting content, please download the "Tapon" app to continue reading.

Determined to stop the bullying, she vowed to make her family pay. Her disabled fiancé proposed a marriage alliance to help her fight back. What started as a deal turned into love--he adored her, and she discovered she was his savior all along! ===== "Janice, how vicious you could be! Do you even realize what you've done to your sister? " "I brought you back, gave you all you needed, and offered you a place to belong. Is this how you thank me? You're going to learn your lesson today!" Laurie Edwards snarled, her rage boiling over as the whip struck her daughter with a brutal, echoing crack. The sharp snap of the whip reverberated through the vast mansion, silencing the servants who stood as still as sculptures, not daring to utter a single word. Despite this, Janice Edwards remained stoic, her slight frame quivering as she clenched her teeth tightly, bearing the excruciating pain that seemed to rip through her skin. With Laurie's arm each swung, marking Janice's back with deep, crimson streaks, her face turning pale. Yet, her gaze remained steady, lit with a spark of resolve. Maybe she had become numb to such brutal punishments. "Now, apologize to Delilah." Panting from the exertion, Laurie stood with one hand resting on her hip, eyes blazing as she glared at Janice. "Why should I apologize when I've done nothing wrong?" Janice met Laurie's gaze, her voice firm, each word a defiance. Laurie's fury peaked as she saw Janice's unyielding stance. Gripping the whip tightly, she declared, "Then I will not stop until you apologize today." At that crucial moment, Delilah Edwards, Laurie's adopted daughter, clutched Laurie's arm, her eyes brimming with tears as she implored, "Mom! Please, no more hitting Janice. It's actually my fault--I never told her about my allergy to mango." "Delilah, your heart is too big. She nearly got you killed, yet here you are, defending her." Laurie sighed, patting Delilah's hand gently, warmth flooding her voice. "She's just malicious. In her desperate bid for attention, she gave you mango pudding, knowing well about your allergy. How utterly cruel, don't you think?" "But I swear, I didn't know!" Janice protested, tears welling up in her eyes as she faced the tight-knit pair before her. "I really didn't know about her allergy!" "Still making excuses?" Laurie snapped, landing another strike on Janice, her words icy and biting as the sting radiated across Janice's skin, sending a shiver down her spine. Ever since Janice had returned to her family, any dispute involving Delilah invariably ended with Janice taking the blame. No matter her arguments or the evidence she presented, it was always brushed aside as deceitful. When Delilah had a fall down the stairs, she had accused Janice of pushing her, and their parents had sided with Delilah without a second thought. Even though Janice was their flesh and blood, she seemed to hold a lesser place in their hearts than Delilah, the adopted one. In their eyes, perhaps she was nothing more than a schemer, always out to hurt Delilah to win some affection. Delilah cast a sympathetic look towards Janice. "Mom, I get where Janice is coming from. After all, I've take her place as your daughter for over a decade. If I were in her shoes, I'd probably feel bitter too. Perhaps if I leave, she'll finally feel at peace, and the family can mend." Her words, coated in a veneer of concern, were a clever ruse to cast Janice further into disfavor, and Laurie swallowed the bait wholeheartedly. Janice's heart sank deeper into despair, a silent tally of grievances against her family mounting with each passing moment. In an instant, a sharp whip snapped her back to the harsh present. She locked eyes with Laurie, whose gaze was frosty and filled with contempt. Laurie's voice cut through the air, icy and sharp. "Just look at Delilah, always so thoughtful and polite! If you were even half as considerate, I'd be over the moon. Yet here you are, denying your mistake, as if to piss me off on purpose." Janice stood her ground firmly. "I'll tell you once more, the pudding I handed her had no mango in it. If you doubt me, just check the grocery list!" "Why even bother to check? It's not like Delilah would deceive us about such things." Laurie, her faith in Delilah unshakable, saw no need to confirm the items listed for shopping. "Mom..." Delilah's voice trembled, her act delicately woven with vulnerability. "If it eases Janice's mind, then perhaps I did wrong her." "Delilah, please, don't cry. You don't deserve to suffer this way. I'll ensure that ungrateful girl is held accountable." Laurie's gaze hardened, her grip on her whip tightening, her authority palpable. "If you don't want to apologize, that's entirely up to you. In three days, Efrery will host its first fashion design contest. If you give your design draft to Delilah, I'll let this go." Again? Those icy words pierced Janice, sending a deep shiver through her being. Throughout the year, she had tirelessly given in, desperate for a sliver of her family's acknowledgment and praise. From the start, the bedroom had been hers by right. But they coaxed Janice into surrendering it, saying Delilah had grown attached to its comforts. Even her rightful identity as the Edwards family's daughter had been obscured, all to safeguard Delilah's pride. The list of such sacrifices stretched endlessly. To stay with this family and gain their favor, Janice had given up more than she cared to admit. But now, Laurie was pushing her to give up her design draft for the fashion contest, her future hanging in the balance. "Say something," Laurie urged as Janice remained silent. "Have you lost your voice?" "Mom, please," Delilah interjected, gripping Laurie's arm, shaking her head. "Janice is competing too. What will she do if she hands over her draft to me? Though I feel confident about winning, I..." She paused, coughing weakly, her frame quivering as though she might faint. "I don't think my health allows it." "She caused you harm, it's only right she makes amends." Laurie locked eyes with Janice with a penetrating stare. "I'll ask you one last time--are you giving up the draft or not?" Janice's chest tightened as she took a deep, uneven breath. "Mom, aren't I your daughter too?" she asked, her voice breaking slightly. "You claim to be my daughter, but you disregard my wishes?" This overt display of favoritism broke Janice's heart completely. She closed her eyes, her voice barely a whisper. "I'll let her have the draft." A sly smile flickered across Delilah's face. While Janice was often too yielding, her design skills were top-notch. With Janice's draft in hand, clinching first place seemed all but guaranteed. "You do have a conscience after all," Laurie remarked, one eyebrow arched as she nonchalantly flung the whip aside and offered Delilah a warm smile. "With Janice's design draft, you can stop stressing about the competition. Just relax and enjoy the award when it comes." "Thanks, Mom," Delilah responded, her face lighting up with a joyful grin. Yet, shortly after, a timid look crossed her face as she glanced at Janice. "But won't Janice resent me for using her draft?" "Would she even dare?" Laurie's voice turned frosty as she fixed a stern gaze on Janice. "If she harbors any resentment, she'll find herself out on the streets. The Edwards family don't keep the ungrateful around, family or not." "What if Janice accuses me of stealing her design?" Delilah's voice was tinged with worry. "Then I will ensure that every bit of her involvement is obliterated, crediting you alone." Laurie's harsh words stunned Janice, her heart sinking deeper into despair with each moment. Had her year of endurance and compromise been in vain? "Huh!" Janice scoffed, a bitter laugh breaking through as the final remnants of her hopes disintegrated, leaving her utterly disillusioned with the family. Chapter 2 Fighting Back "What's so funny, Janice?" Laurie tilted her head in confusion. "I laugh at the absurdity of my own foolishness, how time and again I've surrendered, only to feed your boundless greed," Janice answered, her laughter tinged with a sharp, mocking edge. "Greed? Isn't it your duty, as an elder sister, to make concessions for Delilah?" Laurie's retort came wrapped in a veneer of self-righteousness, unaware that the spark of hope in Janice's eyes had long been extinguished. Drawing a deep, steadying breath, Janice declared with determination, "I kept stepping back, hoping my sacrifices would kindle even a spark of affection from you. But my efforts were in vain, dismissed and trampled upon as if they were nothing but failures." Her voice rose, reverberating with force around the room. Janice rose from the floor, her posture now reflecting a mix of defiance and strength. "You promised me a life of opulence upon my return to the Edwards family. Yet, what have I received? Not even the courtesy of a decent meal. Tell me, beyond using and crushing me, have you ever acted with a shred of humanity?" With her hands clutching her chest, Janice continued, "I am your own daughter! Have you ever, even once, called me 'sweetie'?" Her laugh then broke through, hysterical yet filled with sorrow. Laurie frowned, her voice icy as she responded, "Isn't this all because you want to hear me call you 'sweetie'? Fine. Sweetie! Is that what you wanted?" With a sharp, almost manic laugh, Janice shook her head. "Mrs. Edwards, your pathetic attempt at fake love is almost entertaining." At that moment, her laughter ceased abruptly, her eyes turning cold and piercing. "I no longer crave your affection. As of today, I sever all bonds with the Edwards family." "This is outright rebellion!" Laurie exclaimed, her fury palpable as she grasped the whip again and lashed out at Janice. However, Janice intercepted the whip effortlessly, her expression steely and resolute. "Do you still want to hit me? Once, I was your daughter, and I tolerated a mother's discipline. But now, we share no bond. By what right do you raise your hand against me?" A sly smirk twisted Janice's lips, her previously gentle demeanor now replaced with a rebellious edge. She wrested the whip from Laurie, giving it a casual flick through the air. "You hit me just now. It seems only fair to return the favor." "What are you going to do?" Laurie staggered back, her expression one of shock as Janice turned from a docile victim into a figure of daunting courage. With a deafening snap, the whip struck Laurie's body, leaving a fiery sting in its wake. "How dare you hit me!" Laurie cried out in pain, her rage reaching a boiling point. "You won't get away with this!" "Janice, how could you hit Mom?" Delilah exclaimed in shock. Janice cast a chilling glance at Delilah, sending shivers down her spine. Delilah couldn't shake off the unsettling feeling, pondering the drastic change in Janice. "If you're so concerned about her, why don't you take the hit for her?" Janice snapped, her words cutting through the air. With that, the whip lashed out, striking Delilah sharply. "Ah!" Delilah shrieked as the lash connected, a wave of intense pain overwhelming her thoughts. She couldn't believe this. Janice must have lost her sanity to strike her. "Janice, stop this madness! I won't allow you to harm Delilah!" Laurie roared, rushing to encase Delilah in her arms, disregarding her own agony. But Janice was relentless, her whip mercilessly striking Laurie again and again. Laurie's cries of pain echoed through the room, her body quaking, her eyes rolling back as if she were about to pass out. Yet this agony was nothing compared to the suffering Janice had gone through for a year. She was holding back right now. Otherwise, Laurie would have already succumbed. "Janice, please, stop! You're killing Mom! It's all my fault. Hit me if you must, but please..." Delilah pleaded, her words cut off as Janice yanked her from Laurie's protective embrace. "Janice, let go of Delilah!" Despite her own suffering, Laurie was still worried about Delilah. What a "great" mother she was! "Aren't you allergic to mango?" Janice snorted, a sinister smile playing on her lips. "What the hell are you doing? You better let me go right now! Dad's going to be back any minute, and when he hears what you did to Mom, he'll rip you apart!" Delilah's heart thudded in her chest, her trembling hands frozen by her sides as she gaped at Janice in horror. "Then I'll make sure you're gone before he can lay a hand on me." Janice seized a mango pudding from the table and pressed it against Delilah's lips. Delilah twisted and writhed, but Janice's grip was like steel, leaving her choking as the pudding was thrust down her throat. "Stop, Janice! You'll kill her!" Laurie bellowed, her voice laced with terror. "Someone, please! Stop this madness!" Reacting to Laurie's cries, the servants quickly closed in on Janice. Without a moment's hesitation, Janice whipped out the lash, cracking it in the air with a sharp snap that struck a servant harshly. "Take one more step, and you're fucking dead!" she declared, her eyes glinting with a chilling resolve that froze the servants in their tracks. They exchanged looks of disbelief. Was this really the same girl who had always absorbed her suffering in silence? "Delilah, please, talk to me!" Laurie crawled towards her, tears streaming down her face. "Don't scare me like this!" "Mrs. Edwards, perhaps it's time you witnessed how your dear daughter handles her allergic reactions." She sneered and strode out of the room. This place no longer felt like a home. The servants gathered around, their expressions a mix of concern and confusion. They were unaccustomed to seeing such a bold display of defiance from Janice, who was usually so meek and accommodating. The memory of Janice beating Laurie and forcefully feeding Delilah mango pudding hung heavily in the air, a chilling reminder of the ordeal. Chapter 3 A Deal Janice stepped out from the Edwards family's mansion, her gaze drifting slowly over the silent, empty street. Despite the residual pain that clung to her, a peculiar lightness blossomed within her chest. Reflecting on her year with the Edwards family, she acknowledged the suffocating nature of her existence there. Driven by a deep-seated desire for family warmth, she had willingly shackled her own desires, hoping in vain for a sliver of their affection. Sadly, all she encountered was sheer apathy and relentless demands. Janice cast one final glance at the mansion, its walls exuding a haughty splendor, a silent testament to aristocratic pride. "Let's see how long your greatness lasts without me around," Janice muttered under her breath, turning her head away. As she took a step towards her new freedom, a voice unexpectedly halted her. "Miss Edwards, you truly are full of surprises." Janice spun around. Before her, guided by a bodyguard, was a man seated in a wheelchair. His features were arrestingly handsome--the sharp contours of his face striking, his presence effortlessly commanding the light around him despite his seated position. However, he was a man marked by a disability. This very disability had led Delilah to scorn him, compelling the Edwards family to bring Janice back to take Delilah's place in an arranged marriage to him. "Mr. Green, what exactly are you implying?" Janice's voice was sharp, her eyes narrowing with a palpable intensity that suggested imminent danger. Aiden Green, with a slight lift of his brow, regarded her with a curious expression. "I must admit, I'm taken aback. I didn't expect you, typically so docile, to reveal such a formidable side. It's quite unexpected." "Have you been watching me?" Janice's tone grew colder, her fists tightening subtly as she braced herself for any necessary confrontation. Unruffled, Aiden signaled with a subtle gesture for his bodyguards to hold their positions. "Considering you are my fiancee, I believe it's rather normal for me to take an interest in your affairs, wouldn't you agree?" "Yes," Janice conceded, softening her posture as she stepped closer to Aiden. "But are you truly prepared to accept me as your fiancee? I remember well your previous demeanor towards me--it was rather dismissive, even bordering on contemptuous." "That was in the past," Aiden replied, his voice halting as he locked eyes with Janice, whose gaze no longer bore traces of vulnerability. In that moment, he perceived a change in her, as if she was a completely different person. "I now believe you are indeed suited to stand beside me." Janice's smile danced in the evening breeze, her hair fluttering like silken threads. Her smile, though beautiful, carried a frosty undertone. "Mr. Green, let's cut to the chase. What are you really after?" Aiden raised his eyebrows, intrigued. The changes she had undergone were even more significant than he had imagined. "Let's make a deal," he suggested smoothly. "Alright, go on," Janice urged, her eyes locked on his with resolute poise. "You've severed ties with the Edwards family. Once Connor is back, he won't let this slide." Aiden's voice was low and captivating. "I'm in a position to shield you from their backlash and offer the support you need to chase your ambitions. You loathe them now, don't you? You're out for retribution, I guess?" Janice's eyes narrowed, a spark of recognition flickering within. Aiden had pierced right through her facade. The Edwards family had presumed that bringing her back was a charitable gesture. However, she would prove them wrong. She would show them how ignorant they were and what immense wealth and prosperity they had missed. "And what is it that you want?" she inquired, her voice steady. "Let's go register our marriage tomorrow." Aiden's words made Janice momentarily stunned, but then her lips curled into a smile. "Deal." Chapter 4 No Allergies? The Edwards family was now shrouded in an oppressive and somber air. With Connor Edwards, Laurie's husband, back, a palpable tension had settled in, stifling enough that the servants didn't dare to make a sound. Connor's fury was barely contained as he pounded his fist on the table, his voice a menacing growl. "Unbelievable! Hitting her mother was bad enough, but forcing Delilah to eat mango pudding too? Was Janice crazy?" Laurie urged, "Connor, you have to stand up for Delilah. We took Janice in, clothed her, fed her and provided shelter, yet look how she repays us. Such actions could tarnish our good name if word spreads." "She will return and apologize," Connor vowed, drawing in a deep, steadying breath. He turned to address the butler. "Where is Janice now? Get her back to me." "Aiden Green has taken her away." "What?" Connor was taken aback. "Aiden Green? What in the world is happening?" The butler shook his head, his own confusion evident. "Mr. Green's timing was suspicious. He only appeared after Janice's outburst. Maybe there's something going on between them." A cold realization dawned on Connor as he pieced the events together. Janice's boldness probably stemmed from her association with Aiden. "She thinks she's untouchable with Aiden in her corner. Does she think that worthless man's support allows her to act however she pleases?" At that moment, Bartley Carter, the family doctor, descended the staircase. Connor and Laurie, momentarily setting aside their brewing anger, turned to him with concern. "Bartley, how is Delilah doing right now?" "Miss Edwards merely had a scare, nothing of grave concern." "What? That doesn't make sense!" Laurie frowned, her face a mixture of shock and concern. "She ate an entire mango pudding." Bartley hesitated for a moment, his brows furrowing in bewilderment. "What's so bad about eating a whole mango pudding?" "She has a mango allergy." "That's not the case. Miss Edwards has no such allergy." Stunned, Connor and Laurie exchanged bewildered looks. Delilah wasn't allergic to mango? Did Delilah really throw an unfounded accusation at Janice? "Bartley, are you absolutely certain about Delilah's lack of allergy?" Laurie pressed on, seeking confirmation once more. "Absolutely. If she were truly allergic, consuming such an amount would have necessitated an emergency hospital visit," Bartley affirmed with professional confidence. Recognizing Bartley's expertise and dedication, Connor and Laurie nodded in acceptance of his diagnosis. "Thank you, Bartley," Connor remarked gratefully. "I'll ensure the consultation fee is transferred to you later." Bartley acknowledged with a nod. "If there's nothing further, I shall take my leave now." Connor asked the butler to see Bartley out. Turning around, he found Laurie immersed in contemplation, her gaze distant and unfocused. "Could it be that Delilah faked her allergy just to set Janice up?" Shaking her head slightly, Laurie responded, "I'm just relieved Delilah isn't truly allergic to mango. By the way, now that Janice is with Aiden, what do you think we should do?" "Ha! As if Aiden was willing to protect her without our backing. She'll be crawling back soon enough, begging to be forgiven!" Connor predicted with a sneer. Laurie nodded in agreement. Janice had been cruel, but at the end of the day, she was nothing more than an ungrateful girl, not worth wasting another moment on. With these thoughts stirring in her mind, she ascended the stairs to Delilah's room. "Mrs. Edwards, you need to stand up for Delilah." As Laurie stepped through the doorway, a middle-aged woman dressed in a maid's uniform grasped her hand. It was Daryl Quimby, the devoted servant of the Edwards family. As soon as she saw Laurie, Daryl began to complain, "I've looked after Delilah since she was a child, treating her like my own daughter. To see her endure such pain cuts me deeply. Although Janice is your own flesh and blood, she is ungrateful. Despite all the love the Edwards family has showered upon her, she struck you and nearly took Delilah's life. It's utterly reprehensible." "Daryl, please, try to calm down. I assure you, I won't let this slide. Janice may be my own daughter, but I won't overlook her actions." "Delilah is incredibly fortunate to have such a loving mother." Laurie smiled. "I'm the one who's truly fortunate to have Delilah as my daughter." She moved deeper into the room and approached Delilah, who lay frailly in the bed. A pang of concern tightened her chest at this sight. "Delilah, my dear, how are you feeling?" "I'm feeling a lot better now, Mom. Bartley just confirmed that I'm not allergic to mango." Tears streamed down Delilah's face as she put on an act of guilt. "Mom, do you think I set Janice up?" Laurie shook her head. "No, sweetheart. I believe you, dear. This must have been a simple misunderstanding. Plus, it's a relief to hear you're not allergic to mango. I would have been really worried otherwise." A faint, wistful smile flickered across Delilah's face. "Mom, maybe it would be best if I left. Janice's sudden madness today scared me. She must hate me so much. If I'm gone, she'll probably be happier, and things might be more peaceful for the Edwards family." "Delilah, you have such a big heart." Laurie sighed, feeling sorry for Delilah. "Even after all this, you're thinking about Janice's feelings. If only she could see the goodness in you like I do. After today, I cannot see her as my daughter anymore." "Mom, Janice is a poor girl..." "Let's drop the subject," Laurie replied sharply, waving her hand with an air of finality. Her expression soured at the mention of Janice's name. "Focus on your rest. You know, the fashion design competition is in three days. When you clinch the first prize, I'll appoint you as the vice president of our company." "Mom, you're the best." Inside, however, Delilah's thoughts took a scornful turn. How delightfully gullible the Edwards family was, swayed by mere sweet nothings. Poor Janice had not only given her design to her but had also been ousted from the Edwards family. Delilah believed it wouldn't be long before she seized control of all that belonged to the Edwards family. The upcoming fashion design competition was no ordinary event. Hosted by Routique Fashion, a titan in the industry known for setting the global fashion trends, the event was a spectacle in its own right. Among the luminaries of the fashion world was JE, a name spoken with utmost reverence. Regarded as a visionary among her peers, JE's creations were deemed masterpieces, setting the standards for all aspiring designers. Yet, JE remained shrouded in mystery, never once stepping into the public eye. Rumors abounded, and some fanatics even dangled a million-dollar bounty for a real-life encounter with the elusive designer. The Edwards family had long been leading figures in the fashion world. Laurie, as a celebrated designer, held considerable sway over industry trends. Her role as a judge at the imminent competition only cemented their family's influential legacy. Chapter 5 Why Is She Here? At the designer competition venue, Delilah, adorned in a sumptuous ensemble, strolled through the hall, exuding confidence and vivacity. Her presence commanded the attention of many. Recognizing her potential victory, acquaintances swarmed around her, eager to ingratiate themselves. It was an open secret that Laurie, a towering figure in the world of fashion design, meant that the competition's grand prize was almost certainly destined for Delilah. Winning would not only affirm her talent but also secure her a prominent position within Edwards Group's fashion division. "Miss Edwards, you are absolutely radiant today! Surely, this exquisite outfit is your creation?" "Indeed, Miss Edwards' flair for design is a beautiful echo of her mother's legacy--truly captivating. Even her casual outfits set her apart. I have no doubt that her entry for today will leave us all spellbound." Delilah held her head high with an air of pride. She was looking forward to the jealous stares that would follow her anticipated triumph. "Thank you, I am deeply honored. My mother's mentorship has been invaluable." Nearby, Laurie listened with a smile, her heart swelling with pride. "It's your innate talent too, Delilah. Without it, even the finest mentorship would falter." "By the way, Mrs. Edwards, I heard your other daughter will also be in the competition. Why haven't we seen her yet?" someone asked. Laurie's demeanor hardened, and she replied sharply, "I have only one daughter, Delilah. Who are you referring to?" The crowd fell into a hushed silence. Although the true daughter of the Edwards family had not been publicly acknowledged, rumors had circulated. Laurie's feigned ignorance took everyone aback. Laurie's brow furrowed, her voice laced with contempt. "You must be mistaken. Are you talking about that girl who can't even sketch a simple design? She has no place here in this competition." The crowd exchanged looks, piecing together Laurie's harsh dismissal as a blatant denial of her own flesh and blood, favoring her adopted daughter as the heiress. However, they didn't care whom the title belonged to. They just needed to know who was cherished by the Edwards family. "I heard JE is supposed to make an appearance at today's event. Being a judge, you must have heard something about that, Mrs. Edwards?" "Wait, JE is going to be here?" Laurie's eyebrows shot up, her voice laced with surprise as she processed the unexpected news. The thought of JE attending ignited an excited thrill deep within her. Her design firm had hit a snag on a challenging project, but JE's presence could effortlessly draw in enthusiastic collaborators. "Mrs. Edwards, you didn't know?" Regaining her poise, Laurie answered with a gracious smile, "Well, I really shouldn't say." Her answer was tactful, skillfully masking her unawareness while implying that she was privy to secrets she couldn't divulge due to confidentiality constraints. "Mrs. Edwards, if there's ever a chance, we'd love for you to introduce us to JE!" "Of course," Laurie agreed amiably. Soon, a lively crowd gathered around Laurie, exchanging trivial niceties. They were all driven by the same ambition--to forge a connection with a luminary in the fashion design industry through Laurie. A wave of pride washed over Delilah. The more prominent Laurie became, the more she, as her daughter, would shine. If Janice happened to witness her reveling in this glowing admiration, adored like a queen, she'd absolutely be burning with envy, wouldn't she? Delilah's eyes suddenly snapped to a familiar silhouette. Was that Janice? What was she doing here? Had she come to submit another design for the competition? ...... 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&

I signed a 14-page contract without reading the fine print. I should have read the fine print. The listing promised great pay for "working with exotic creatures." What it didn't say was that I wasn't hired to care for the monsters behind those seven doors I was hired to breed with one. On day four they strapped me to a table and the man who hired me pressed a needle to my stomach. "You agreed to all of it when you signed," he smiled. "And I need your womb." They've spent years collecting from every species in this building, preparing for the one part they couldn't manufacture. Me. Every girl before me died, broke, or vanished. The only one trying to keep me alive is the very monster I'm meant to survive. ——————————————————— Chapter 1 — Crystal's POV Position: [not specified]. Location: Saint-Barthélemy, on-site housing provided. Compensation: €4,500/month. Start date: immediate. Requirements: female, single, good health, experience with caregiving preferred. Good fertility. Nature of work: daily care and interaction with exotic creatures. Interested applicants reply to this address only. I'd found it buried in a local forum between an ad for a retired fisherman's boat and someone selling homemade coconut oil, and I'd screenshot it before it could disappear, the way things on that forum tended to do. I read it for the fourth time, and it didn't get any less suspicious. The waiting room was trying hard to impress. White leather chairs, a marble coffee table, and a massive aerial photograph of Saint-Barthélemy's coastline. I crossed and uncrossed my legs. Checked my phone, read the listing again. "Weird listing, right?" The woman two chairs over was watching me. Mid-thirties, tanned, the kind of sun-bleached hair that came from actually living near the ocean She nodded at my phone. "No company name, no job title. Just 'exotic creatures' and a salary that's too good to be real." "We might be considered crazy for coming here." "Honey, half the island applied. That money?" She whistled low. "I've got two kids and an ex who thinks child support is optional. I'd scrub dragon cages for that number." I almost laughed. But before I could open my mouth, the door at the end of the room opened, and a voice cut through. "Crystal Le Grand?" I put my phone away so fast I nearly dropped it. The woman who stepped through was the kind of beautiful that made you immediately aware of every flaw on your own face. Her badge was saying ‘Anaïs’. Tall, dark hair pulled into something effortlessly perfect, sharp cheekbones. She looked like she belonged on the cover of Vogue. "That's me." I stood and extended my hand. "Nice to meet you. I love your shoes, are those…" "Follow me, please." Anaïs turned on those shoes I wasn't allowed to compliment and walked back through the door. I followed, hand still half-raised, smile dying on my face. She was the assistant to the facility's owner, and she had the interpersonal warmth of a tax audit. She led me to a small office, gestured to a chair, and opened a folder without looking at me once. "I see here you were previously married. Is that correct?" "Correct." I smiled tightly. ‘Best’ decision I never made. I was twenty-one and stupid and in love, and he had a smile that made me forget nobody had ever taken care of me without a price tag. "And your current relationship status?" "And your current relationship status?" "Single. Very, very single. The marriage was annulled, so technically I was never even married. Fun little legal detail." My now ex-husband vanished and left a stack of credit card statements with my name on them. Debts I didn't know existed, signatures I stupidly signed without looking. Now I understood why he'd been in such a rush to walk me down the aisle. Not in the name of love, but because he couldn’t wait to max out credit cards in his wife's name. Anaïs wrote something without looking up. The pen moved in short, precise strokes. Her nails were clean and unpolished, trimmed to exactly the same length. "Your credit history shows some irregularities. Can you explain?" "Student loans. You know how it is." I laughed. Anaïs didn't. Everything about this woman was controlled — posture, breathing, the way she held her face like a mask. Student loans my ass. I've got about four weeks of savings, a mountain of debt, and a disabled brother whose care I help pay for. "Menstrual cycle. Regular or irregular?" I blinked. "Regular, but that's kind of a…" "Clothing size?" "Eight. Sometimes ten if it's European sizing, which, honestly, always feels like a personal attack." "Professional experience?" "Nursing. Two years at Hôpital de Bruyn before I took a break." Before my fiancé convinced me to quit. "I'll take care of us, baby. You deserve better than nightshifts and bedpans." Turns out what he meant was he'd strip away every safety net I had, then vanish. "Do you have family or close contacts on the island? Anyone you speak with regularly?" "My mother, on the mainland. She takes care of my brother Lionel — he's disabled. I call her every few days, send money when I can. Here on the island? No one." Anaïs's pen stopped moving. She looked at me and something shifted across her features. Quick, controlled, barely there. Surprise and something sharper underneath it, almost like satisfaction. Then it vanished, and she was writing again. "Do you have family or close contacts on the island? Anyone you speak with regularly?" "My mother, on the mainland. She takes care of my brother Lionel. I call her every few days, send money when I can. Here on the island? No. Caleb was my whole social life, which, again, is a red flag. I'm seeing all the red flags now." Anaïs closed the folder, excused herself, and returned two minutes later with him. Albert Bernard, the owner of this company, walked into the room. Tall, obscenely handsome, the kind of man whose jaw looked sculpted rather than grown. He shook my hand with both of his and smiled like we were already old friends. "Crystal! Anaïs tells me you're perfect." "She… Really? She didn't seem…" "Wonderful! Tell me about your sex life." I choked on nothing. "My what?" "Your sex life. Active, dormant, somewhere in between?" He leaned back in his chair, completely at ease. "I ask because I want you to be comfortable. Some of the work here is intimate in nature: not sexual, but physical, close-contact, and I need to know your boundaries won't make you a liability." I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. Albert tilted his head like a man watching a fish try to climb a tree. "I'll go first, since you look like you might swallow your own tongue. I'm bisexual, and the last person I was with told me I had the emotional availability of a desk lamp. Your turn." Surprisingly, It worked. Something about his absurd candor cracked the seal. I was still stiff when I found myself talking: "Dormant. Dead, actually. My ex killed any interest I had in men, and honestly, at this point the only physical contact I want is the kind where nobody asks how I'm feeling afterward." Albert listened with his chin on his fist and nodded like everything I said was fascinating. The contract was three pages. I should have read every word. I read the salary line, the housing clause, and the duration — twelve months, renewable — and I signed. Albert clapped his hands together. "Anaïs, transport! We leave now." “H-Hold on, what?” “Why wait? You’re gonna have so much fun there!” Anaïs stood, and as she passed Albert's chair, his hand swung out and slapped her across the ass — casual, proprietary, the sound sharp in the small room. She didn't flinch, didn't react at all. Just kept walking. I stared. My mouth opened, closed. Two attractive adults, I told myself. Clearly a thing between them. Who am I to judge? God knows I wouldn't mind someone who looked like either of them doing that to me. I tried to forget the look on the other candidates' faces when Albert enthusiastically told them to leave because the position was closed. Outside, a black SUV waited with the engine running. Anaïs took the wheel without a word; Albert held the rear door open for me with a little bow that was either gentlemanly or mocking, hard to tell with him. I climbed in, and the leather seats were cool against my thighs. Nobody spoke. Anaïs drove like she'd made this trip a hundred times, eyes fixed ahead, and Albert scrolled through his phone beside me. The drive took us to the island's far eastern edge, where the roads narrowed to dirt and the vegetation thickened until the ocean disappeared behind a wall of green. The facility sat at the end of a gravel path — low concrete, no signage, built like something designed not to be found. Inside, the air was cooler and carried a strange undercurrent, something organic and faintly mineral, like wet stone in a cave. Albert walked ahead, hands clasped behind his back like a tour guide. "Your schedule will be straightforward — feeding rounds three times a day, health checks once in the morning, and the rest of the time is yours to spend with the residents. Think of it as..." I was trying to listen, I really was, but then we passed a corridor junction and I saw the monitor. A security screen mounted high on the wall, showing a dark chamber in grainy night vision. Something massive was moving inside: too many limbs, too fluid, and a thick muscular appendage uncurling against the reinforced glass, ridged suckers pressing flat against the surface. My vision tilted. The corridor stretched and compressed, fluorescent lights bleeding into long white smears. My knees folded, and the last thing I registered before the dark swallowed everything was the cold of the concrete floor against my cheek. ——————————————————— What did she really sign? Read Monstrously Yours Now!

Ready for a sparkling adventure? ✨ Just a short hike from Nordre Spro pier on Nesodden, you’ll find the magical Kråkesølv (“Crow’s Silver”) Mines - narrow tunnels, glittering walls, and mysterious echoes make every step exciting for curious kids. ⛰️ Hiking tips for little feet 👣 Part 14. Fair warning though - this isn’t the easiest crawl for toddlers or very tiny feet (there’s some climbing and scrambling involved!). But for adventurous kids ready to explore, it’s 100% worth the trip. After exploring the caves, step (crawl) out to a stunning white beach with crystal-clear water. 📍From Nordre Spro pier on Nesodden, it’s about a 1-kilometer walk along the coast. You'll find a full trail guide at @utno "Kråkesølvgruver på Nordre Spro på Nesodden". However, we parked on top of "Nordre Spro vei" and followed the "midlertidig kyststi" for a bit more hiking - still super short. The mine itself is a narrow tunnel stretching about 30 meters into the rock, ending in a mighty chamber. The walls shimmer with Kråkesølv - or muscovite, as geologists call it - glittering in the sunlight. We were covered, and our house had sparkling traces of it for days after! Tips: Bring rubber or Gore-Tex boots, magnifying glass, jars for collecting treasures, and flashlight/headlamp. In summer: fishing gear, swimwear and swim shoes🎣 #hikingwithkids #turtipsforbarn #kyststi #familyadventure #familyhike #liveterbestute #Nesodden #visitoslo #norwaynature #explorenorway #norwayraw #scandinavianhikes #mittnorge #dnt @dntoslo @turistforeningen @opplevno @oppturer #opplevnorge #caveadventure #cave #norgestoppen @barnasturlagoslo

Dad had no clue my stepbrother's finger was deep inside me while he was driving up front. Hidden behind a wall of cardboard boxes, the guy I hated most was giving me the hottest, most forbidden pleasure I’d ever felt. When a muffled whimper escaped me, Samir slammed his palm over my mouth. “You’re such a naughty girl, Becca,” he growled against my ear. “One more sound and Dad will hear us.” “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I say to Dad with growing agitation. “You seriously expect my brother and me to share one tiny back seat for the next two days? Samir’s fucking huge!” “Language!” Mom snaps. She’s carrying the twins—my three-year-old half-sisters—one on each hip, so I bite back the next round of curses. “Listen, Becca, I know it’s not ideal, but—” I scoff and shake my head. Not ideal. Yeah, no shit. Samir and his freakishly long legs and I have to squeeze into one seat in the third row of Dad’s black Tahoe because the rest of the space is jampacked with the boxes of fragiles and valuables. “This is seriously unfair.” I grit my teeth with frustration and fist the hem of my oversized vintage T-shirt, just barely resisting the urge to take my flip-flop off and hurl it at my stepbrother’s beautiful head of dense, dark brown waves. “Why can’t I ride with you, Mom? The girls get their own seats!” Car seats that is, which take up the entirety of the backseat of Mom’s white Lexus sedan. I dart a look at her front passenger seat, piled high to the ceiling with our overnight bags, leaving no room for me. “You’re living it up in luxury while I have to cram in with this—” asshole, I finish silently as I point at Samir since Mom gives me the Mom Glare that makes me instantly snap my mouth closed. Samir gives me a challenging look as he rocks back on his slides and shoves his hands in the pockets of his gray sweatpants. I try really, really hard not to let my eyes drift below his chest to check if what people say about gray sweatpants is true. I fail. He smirks, and it takes everything in me not to give him my middle finger. “Oh yeah, because road-tripping with two toddlers is so luxurious,” Mom says sarcastically. Fair point. Meera and Amelia might look like angels in their matching yellow sundresses with white bows in their adorable brown pigtails, but they’re actually little hellions when they’re unhappy, and their piercing cries will make your ears want to bleed. I would literally do anything for them. Throw myself in front of them to protect them from anything and everything. But when it comes to road-tripping with them for two days straight… Between Dad driving with Samir and me behind Mom with the girls, I’m not sure which one of them drew the short stick. Samir might be just as annoyed as I am with the seating arrangements, but he doesn’t argue like I have been. He just folds his six-foot-tall, two-hundred-pound frame to climb in, his broad back stretching the limits of his red University of Arizona T-shirt— a taunting reminder that he applied to and got into the same university I did. That's why our parents decided to relocate to Tucson. We can save money by continuing to live with them, which means I’m stuck with Samir for at least another four years. Fuck my life. Samir makes room for me to slide in next to him—well, not really next to him. Only one of my ass cheeks actually fits on the seat left between his hip and the boxes stacked on my right. I’m practically sitting on top of Samir while Dad arranges the last of the boxes, effectively creating a cardboard wall between us in the back and him up in front. Thirty-five minutes into the drive, my right ass cheek starts losing feeling with all of my weight resting on it. I try to scooch as far away from Samir as possible. My step-brother and I have never gotten along. After his mom, Veda, and my dad, Kevin, got married, they moved us into a new house when I was fourteen. Samir has hated me ever since, as if it was somehow my fault that his mom wanted to get married and move halfway across the country when my dad got a job promotion. Being forced to spend the next two days half on top of Asshole Samir’s lap takes the cake. The only reason we aren’t already screaming at each other is because Dad will sic Mom on us whenever we stop for gas and snacks. She might be the Best Step-Mom Ever—but her Mom Glare is seriously terrifying. I curse under my breath as I squirm for the thousandth time, trying fruitlessly to relieve the pressure on my side, but there’s literally nowhere to go. Samir grunts when I accidentally-on-purpose elbow him in the gut when I try to reposition myself. I squeal in surprise when he roughly grabs me around the waist and settles me fully on top of his lap with my back to his chest. “What are you doing?” I hiss, trying and failing to wiggle off his lap. The last thing I want is to be forced to touch him any more than I already have to, yet now he’s got me sitting on his lap like a little kid taking pictures with some old dude playing Santa Claus at the mall. Samir groans and exhales in relief as he man-spreads his legs to fill my tiny vacated space. Then he whisper-snaps, “Goddamnit, stop it!” when I again elbow him in the stomach. My eyes flare wide with shock and minor panic when he wraps his large hand around the front of my throat and flattens me back against his solid chest. We may be known to fight like the devil, but not once has he ever laid hands on me. I go freakishly still when he tightens his grip, applying a tiny amount of pressure to the sides of my neck, and bands his other arm around my stomach. “I’m just as uncomfortable as you, Becca, but tough shit,” he says against my ear, his minty breath fanning my cheek. “For once, stop being a brat and making things worse with all your damn huffing and puffing. Got it?” He loosens his grip when I try to nod, then finally lets go. I gulp for air, my heart beating erratically in my chest. It’s supremely discomforting sitting stock-still on his lap for the next two hours until we make our first pit stop at a gas station. I nearly fall out of the Tahoe and sprint into the store to get away from Samir and the fluttery feeling in my belly. I don’t know what to think about the fact that he never once removed his corded arm from around my stomach or that he absentmindedly rubbed his thumb up and down my side the whole time. ... Soon after our parents finish topping up the gas in their vehicles and letting the girls run around, we get back on the road. Samir only pulls me back on top of him when Dad climbs into the driver’s seat. Neither of us wants him to know that I’ve been sitting on Samir’s lap this whole time. “Everything ok back there, kids?” Dad shouts to be heard over the highway noise from the front. The cardboard wall of boxes is tall enough that we can’t see each other in the rearview mirror, so he doesn’t clock the exaggerated eye-roll I give him. “Sure, Dad. We’re having soooo much fun braiding each other’s hair and talking about our crushes, right Samir?” Goosebumps rise along my arms when Samir whispers so that only I will hear, “I’m having fun.” He doesn’t sound the least bit sarcastic, and I shoot him a questioning look over my shoulder. Several hours later, my h!ps are killing me from sitting in the same position for so long. I do my best to keep still after Samir barks at me to quit squirming again, but it’s a losing battle. Dad’s cringey Dad-rock music is blasting from the front. I shout for him to pull over so I can stretch. But Mom, whom dad’s following at a safe distance, says the girls are finally napping and doesn’t want to risk waking them by stopping the car. I tried to argue, but Dad cranks the volume to an ear-splitting level, cutting off my attempts. I grind my teeth and have half a mind to accidentally kick a hole in one of the boxes of breakables. “What’s wrong?” Samir asks with a tone I haven’t heard from him before as he rvbs his thumbs up and down the outsides of my th!ghs. “My hips. They ache like they do when I’m about to get my per1od. I need to stretch my legs, but there’s no room,” I say with a pout. “Put your knees up on the seat,” he says, flexing his own hips beneath me. I turn to stare at him over my shoulder, bunching my brows with confusion. “On the seat? How?” He pats the sliver of space between the seatbelt buckles on either side of him. “Feet here.” Then he taps the edge of the seat. “Knees here.” Samir directs me to slip off my sandals. With a firm grip on my hips, he slides me forward and helps me scoot each foot up onto the seat. My face heats as I realize I'm sitting reverse-cowgirl style on his lap. He then pulls me back against his chest. “Now drop your head back on my shoulder,” he says with a low rumble. I obey, mouth going dry. A shaky breath escapes me as he grips my hips and lifts my lower body into a deep bridge position. Every muscle in my torso stretches. The ache in my hips eases instantly. I close my eyes and moan. "Fuck, Becca..." Samir curses under his breath, his nose brushing the column of my neck, then pushes with more force to extend the stretch. Up and down. Flex and release. We hold the position for almost a minute before his arms start to shake. I might be smaller than him, but I’m no featherweight. While Samir has stayed strong from years of lacrosse and working out five days a week, I’ve spent the last four years glued to my keyboard, uploading song covers and originals to my YouTube channel. Still, I don't think holding me up like this is easy for him. “I’m good now,” I lie, slightly embarrassed. Samir grunts and drops me back onto his lap, though he doesn’t loosen his hold on me. I’m more than a little aware that I’m still sitting on him reverse-cowgirl style, but for some strange reason, neither of us moves to re-adjust our positions. After years of nonstop arguing and fighting, this is the longest we’ve gone without getting on each other’s nerves, which is in and of itself slightly unnerving. “Thanks,” I whisper after a while. He nods, the dark stubble on his cheek tickling mine with the movement, sending a slight shiver up my spine that I know I need to tamp down and ignore. We sit in silence for several more minutes, listening to Dad’s off-key singing of Kryptonite. His long finger slowly flex around my round hips with each bump on the road that jostles my weight. I squirm when the ache starts back up, and he asks me,“They still hurt?” he asks. “Yeah. Sorry.” He hesitates for a moment, then slides his hands around me. “Arch your back and lift your hips a few inches,” he whispers, a faint raspiness to his voice. He tugs my T-shirt up and slips his hands under my leggings. His thumbs press into the aching muscles at my waist, rolling firmly. My lips part in a rush of air, and an involuntary moan slips out as he rolls his thumbs in small circles, increasing the pressure on my stiff muscles. Suddenly, Dad’s voice cuts through the music. “Becca? You okay back there? Sounded like you moaned.” I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. Samir’s hands stop instantly, remaining perfectly still against my bare skin. “Just—just stretching, Dad,” I squeak out, my voice embarrassingly high. A suffocating beat passes. Then Dad grunts and turns the volume back up. Samir exhales a long, slow breath against my neck. His fingers start moving again, slower this time, and completely deliberate. “S...Samir,” I moan breathily. Pleasure unfurls through me as his fingertips dig in, melting the ache from my body. I roll my lips between my teeth to cut off my next moan in case Dad might hear. I try to peek at him through the rearview mirror, but the stacked boxes completely block my view. I can only hear him crank up the volume when a Metallica song starts. Samir exhaled too. His breathing has changed, either, especially when he buries his face in the crook of my neck, pressing his lips against my skin, making the hair on the nape of my neck stand on end and my spine tingle. Suddenly, he pulls his hands out of my leggings, and I whimper at the loss of heat, instantly embarrassed. God, I can't believe I was moaning while his hands worked out my sore muscles. He was just trying to be helpful for once, and I had to go and freak him out with my weird reaction. I can only imagine how much worse it is for him. But then Samir hooks his fingers into my waistband and pulls it down an inch. His soft lips brush against the shell of my ear. “Good girl, lift your hips for me again.” And God help me — I do...

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"Too deep, Luca... I’m so full." Luca—my best friend, the boy I’d secretly loved for years—was having sex with my roommate on the other side of the wall. Ever since my parents died, he was my entire world, my only anchor. I even tore up my dream school’s acceptance letter just to stay by his side. And what did my devotion buy me? Nothing but degrading silence and ultimate humiliation. "Enough." I turned away from the door, walked across the hall, and knocked on the door of his worst rival—Julian Vance. West bridge’s hockey king opened it, his grey-blue eyes dragging down my soaked shirt. "Sure about this, sweetheart?" he murmured. I nodded, gripping my suitcase. The next second, the lock clicked—and he slammed me hard against the door. "Move in, and you play by my rules." In the darkness, his knee forced my thighs apart, his scorching breath burning my earlobe. "Tonight, you sleep in my bed." ………………………………………………………………………… 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 fuck 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 fucking 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 fuck 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. Chapter 2 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. Chapter 3 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. Chapter 4 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. Chapter 5 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 fucked 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 fuck this time," I said. I walked away, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst through my ribs. "Fuck!" 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. Chapter 6 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.

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? 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"Too deep, Luca... I’m so full." Luca—my best friend, the boy I’d secretly loved for years—was having sex with my roommate on the other side of the wall. Ever since my parents died, he was my entire world, my only anchor. I even tore up my dream school’s acceptance letter just to stay by his side. And what did my devotion buy me? Nothing but degrading silence and ultimate humiliation. "Enough." I turned away from the door, walked across the hall, and knocked on the door of his worst rival—Julian Vance. West bridge’s hockey king opened it, his grey-blue eyes dragging down my soaked shirt. "Sure about this, sweetheart?" he murmured. I nodded, gripping my suitcase. The next second, the lock clicked—and he slammed me hard against the door. "Move in, and you play by my rules." In the darkness, his knee forced my thighs apart, his scorching breath burning my earlobe. "Tonight, you sleep in my bed." ………………………………………………………………………… 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 fuck 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 fucking 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 fuck 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. Chapter 2 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. Chapter 3 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. Chapter 4 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. Chapter 5 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 fucked 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 fuck this time," I said. I walked away, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst through my ribs. "Fuck!" 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. Chapter 6 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.