Who is this boy you’re always with?

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• Silent Flames, Forbidden Paths   Billionaire Bromance

  “Is this even a home!?”I practically screamed as the car pulled into the underground garage like we were parking inside the Batcave.“Bro—are you a second-generation freaking billionaire or something?! Because this—this is not a house. This is a whole-ass lifestyle!”Ethan just smirked in his seat like he was used to it. Mr. Wright stayed quiet, eyes straight ahead, like he didn’t just casually pull up to a property that looked like it belonged in a Forbes documentary.The engine died. Silence fell.We stepped out.And yeah—my jaw? Unhinged. Hanging somewhere around my ankles.I gawked like a tourist, head tilting all the way back just to take in the absurd number of floors. The exterior was all sleek black stone, polished wood, and warm amber lighting that made it look like a tech billionaire’s spiritual retreat. Minimalist. Expensive. Intimidatingly clean.A vertical garden stretched up the side wall like nature itself was hired as a decorator. Everything screamed money—but whisper

• Silent Flames, Forbidden Paths   Late Night Long Drive

  Back at the dorm, I packed in record time—just the basics. Toothbrush, pajamas, charger, moisturizer, emotional baggage.Mr. Wright and Ethan? Oh, they were busy charming the warden like seasoned politicians on a campaign trail.Apparently, “She’s my little sister” and “I’m her professor” carried more weight than I’m an adult woman and I can take care of myself, because ten minutes later, I was standing outside the dorm gates, bag in hand, officially kidnapped.I dumped my bag into the trunk like it owed me money. The dorm warden had fought tooth and nail—“She can’t leave campus without a guardian signature!”—but apparently the word of a professor carried enough weight to bulldoze the red tape.Mr. Wright handled it. Cold. Calm. Devastatingly effective.Ethan just stood there yawning like a lazy royal on a rescue mission.They took the front seats, of course. My brother tossed himself into shotgun like he owned the world. Mr. Wright slid behind the wheel, and somehow that still felt w

• Silent Flames, Forbidden Paths   Bro, You Know How to Shut Up...Right?

  The four of us sat down at the corner booth of a warm, dimly lit restaurant—wooden walls, gentle music, clinking cutlery, and exactly the kind of atmosphere that should make a family dinner relaxing.Except, of course, when your brother’s glaring across the table like he’s still lowkey planning your funeral.“Nick,” Ethan said, casually stabbing a breadstick. “Meet him—he’s my best friend, Chris.”Nick nodded politely toward Mr. Wright. “Nice to meet you, sir.”“Likewise.” Mr. Wright gave a small, composed nod back, his tone formal—but his gaze lingered on Nick a bit longer than expected, like he was still trying to place something.“So,” I said, arching a brow, “why the fu—” I coughed, glancing sideways at Mr. Wright. “I mean, why are you here, Ethan?”Ethan snorted, eyes gleaming. “Because of you, you walking catastrophe.”I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like I begged you to come.”“When you finally called, I was already halfway here. And I wasn’t going to turn around. I figured I'd do

• Silent Flames, Forbidden Paths   When Protector Turns Psycho

  “ALINA, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!”The sound didn’t just echo—it ripped through the air like a grenade in a chapel.I froze.Every cell in my body screamed: RUN.I turned toward the voice and, yep, just as I feared—there he was.Ethan.My older brother. My protector. My freaking executioner. Face contorted in pure betrayal. Hands curled into fists. Rage boiling off him like radioactive steam.But that wasn’t the worst part.No.Because right beside him—arms awkwardly at his sides, expression horrifically neutral, eyes darting like a deer caught in a very inappropriate headlights—stood...Mr. Cristiano Wright.My professor.In his dark slacks and half-buttoned shirt. His perfectly composed face trying to calculate whether he’d walked into an emotional intervention or a domestic warfare documentary.I could see it in his eyes. That exact moment when his soul quietly whispered:“I am a dignified professor. I teach literature. I grade essays. Why the actual f**k am I here?”Then Ethan

• Silent Flames, Forbidden Paths   Guilt Doesn’t Have a Backspace

  “Stay there,” I said quickly. “I’m coming.”“Alina—”I cut the call before he could say another word.As I burst through the dorm gate, breath hitching, heart in my throat, I didn’t have to search.He was right there.Leaning against the old neem tree like a ghost that hadn’t left since yesterday. Disheveled. Drenched in dried sweat and fury. Hair a fucking mess. Dark circles punching shadows into his eyes.I ran to him.Didn’t even think.Threw my arms around him like I could glue all the broken pieces back together just by holding him hard enough.His body locked under mine—then stiffly, angrily, he peeled me off like I was the one who set him on fire.“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” His voice came out low. Dead. Dangerous.“I—I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I shouldn’t have ghosted you like that, Nick—”“GHOSTED?” He snapped. “You fucking vanished, Alina! Not a text. Not a call. Not a goddamn pixel of your existence! For an entire fucking day! You think that’s ghosting?!”I fl

• Silent Flames, Forbidden Paths   Nick Morgan had a matching flair for catastrophic overreactions

  Too bad I didn’t know Nick Morgan had a matching flair for catastrophic overreactions.Because the moment I exited Ethan’s chat, my phone straight up glitched like it was about to self-destruct from emotional damage.564 unread messages.Emails. Plural. Like actual Gmail notifications—as if he was submitting a formal missing person report to the United Nations.My thumb hovered over the chat like it might bite me.Was he writing a novel? Filing a lawsuit? Planning a funeral?I hadn’t even opened the damn thread yet, and I could already feel the emotional rollercoaster vibrating through the pixels. Guilt. Rage. Worry. Panic. Regret. Probably a few insults sandwiched between apologies.NICK 🦊[Yesterday, 3:40 PM]Okay… what the fuck, Alina?Why aren’t you picking up? Are you okay??[Yesterday, 4:48 PM]I called. You didn’t answer.So I’m messaging now like a damn lunatic. Because I am a lunatic.Because I’m losing my mind here.[Yesterday, 6:02 PM]Look, if this is about that STUPID fu