Novels by Still Iv

115[ALEX'S POV]Cheers erupted from our friends as I knelt with him, pulling him into a fierce, breathless hug. The applause from Nico, Rita, Marilyn, and Mathew was thunderous, a joyous sound of love and support. We kissed, and in that moment, all the pain of Heldon, all the long, lonely nights in Australia, all the uncertainty of our future simply dissolved. It was just us, in a circle of love and celebration, finally home and finally whole. The ring felt impossibly light and impossibly heavy all at once on my finger.As our lips parted and the cheers reached their peak, the doorbell rang.The sound was a jarring, discordant note in the symphony of our joy. Marilyn, bless her heart, bustled to the door. I saw her open it to a girl who couldn't have been more than seventeen or eighteen. She was pretty in an unassuming way, with kind eyes and long, brown hair. She wore a simple, functional backpack and looked lost, a little out of place, and entirely unfamiliar."Hello dear," Marily

[Four years later....]The descent into the familiar sprawl of Los Angeles felt surreal. For four years, our lives had been framed by the endless blue of the Pacific from a different hemisphere, the sun rising on a new day while America slept. Now, the sprawling grid of city lights below us was a promise, a beacon of a life we had worked so hard to reclaim. I felt Tristan’s hand tighten around mine, his thumb tracing a slow, steady pattern on my knuckles."Home," he whispered, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me.I just nodded, my throat tight. The last time we had left, it had been an escape. A frantic, humiliating flight from a life that had been ripped to shreds. The scandal that had consumed Heldon University—and our lives—had forced us to rebuild from the ground up. Tristan had lost his job, his reputation, his life's work. I had lost my scholarship, my future, and the trust of my friends that I had thankfully managed to regain before we left.Australia had been our

The sleep that had swallowed me was a heavy, dreamless blanket, a welcome oblivion from the crushing weight of reality. I woke slowly, the morning light filtering through Tristan's curtains feeling foreign and soft. The house was quiet, but as I made my way to the living room, I heard hushed voices.My heart immediately seized with panic. Tristan? Was he on the phone with his lawyer? With the university? I rounded the corner, expecting to see him pacing, but stopped dead in my tracks.Sitting on the sofa, looking small and exhausted but undeniably real, were Rita and Nico. Wait, how? Is this a dream? What were they doing here?Oh no, they came here to give me more of a tongue lashing? Well, I'm not going to stay and let that happen. I turned to run back into my bedroom when I heard his voice.Nico looked up first, his eyes wide with relief. "Alex," he breathed.Rita just stared, her face a complicated mess of shame and relief. I felt my legs quake under me but I fought to keep steady

The tranquil elegance of Samantha's home had been a temporary haven, but her words had been a catalyst. I drove away, my mind no longer held any resentment.In its stead was a storm of guilt and regret. Alex. Nico. My two best friends. I had turned my back on them when they needed me most, all because of a truth I had completely misunderstood. Even if I had misunderstood it, I was right to be angry. Tristan had broken my sister's heart but he had done his best to make up for it with her and had given her a shot at happiness.Samantha had let go of the anger and pain that I was still stubbornly holding on to all these years. It was the reason that Alex must have been so scared to tell me the truth about what was happening.I thought back to the way that I had come at him that day. The awful names that I had called him. It made me flinch the more I dwelled on it. I was angry and I had said some very cruel things.I wish I could take them back.I wish that I could take care of Alex now.

The dorm room, the campus, my friendships—it all felt like a battlefield. The only person I could think to go to was my sister, Samantha. I drove to her house, a sprawling, modern-gothic marvel tucked away in a quiet, tree-lined neighborhood. My own family's wealth meant I was used to this kind of luxury, but Samantha's home was a masterpiece of taste and refinement. At least that was how I felt. Our mother, on the other hand, felt it was too morbid.It reminded her of a horror movie and she hated it. Samantha didn't care about our mother's feelings. She liked to do what she liked.As I walked up the marble steps, past the impeccably manicured lawn and the fountains that whispered rather than splashed, my chaotic emotions felt completely out of place. The floor-to-ceiling windows seemed to look out on a world of perfect order, and the air inside smelled of expensive lilies and quiet wealth. It was all so serene, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside me.I found Samantha in her

The quiet of the house felt deafening, usually it would have been punctured by laughter and stories but not today.Today, we were dragged into the storm that our lives had become all of a sudden. Alex was asleep, finally, a deep, heavy quiet emanating from the bedroom. I’d watched him collapse onto the bed, pulling the comforter over his head like a child seeking shelter from a monster. I had said nothing. All I could do was watch from the doorway.His raw pain, the way he’d flinched from Nico, the primal scream he’d let out at Caleb—my Alex. My poor darling was utterly shattered and it was all because of me.My own email, the cold, curt termination notice, felt like a branding iron against my skin. Professor Tristan Walker. Archeology Department Head. Gone. Just a few lines of corporate jargon, severing years of dedication, research, and passion. It was swift, brutal, and completely absolute. The university, in its infinite wisdom and self-preservation, had acted with ruthless ef

Recess at Heldon was always a performance, and I was used to being center stage. The courtyard buzzed with the usual circus—freshmen scrambling for seats at the stone benches, girls huddled in cliques whispering, guys tossing footballs back and forth, and the sound of laughter echoing against the old brick walls. Most days, I thrived in this spotlight. My smile could tilt a room, my wink could scatter a pack of girls into giggles, and my reputation—both earned and exaggerated—kept me floating above the noise. Being Saint Padre’s son didn’t hurt either. People watched me with equal parts admiration and caution, and I liked it that way. But today wasn’t about them. Today my focus was on her. Eloise Walker. She wasn’t doing anything special—just walking, her books tucked under one arm, her hair swinging slightly as she crossed the courtyard. But there was something in the way she carried herself that demanded attention. Like the space belonged to her, not the pedigreed brats who

The dining room in the Padre estate was always a performance. A sight worthy to behold. Long table of polished mahogany, chandeliers glowing like captured starlight, silver utensils laid out in perfect symmetry. It wasn’t dinner; it was a ceremony, a reminder that my father was a king in his own kingdom, and we were the court bound to orbit him. I sat three chairs down from him, posture perfect, napkin folded on my lap. To my right, my half brother Luca leaned back in his chair like he owned the place, smirk already plastered on his annoyingly handsome face. Across from me was Roana, my mother, my father’s queen—every line of her figure elegant, her dark hair a sheet of silk, her laugh soft enough to make even stone melt. And then there was him. My father. Saint Padre. He wasn’t just a man; he was the storm everyone else measured themselves against. The kind of presence that made even silence feel like it was holding its breath. I had grown up seeing hardened men tremble in

The screen flickered before resolving into Nico’s broad grin. He was sprawled out in his hotel room, headphones around his neck, hair sticking up like he’d been wrestling with the wind. Rita squeezed into the frame beside him, waving dramatically with a bright smile.In reality, they were in the same room. After College and Nico had recovered from the death of Hayley, they both decided to give each others a try.It was cute. I was happy for them. “Alex! My man!” Nico’s voice boomed through the speakers. “Looking good. Is that the kitchen? Damn, bro, domestic life suits you.” I rolled my eyes and shifted the phone so it wasn’t just showing my chin. “Yeah, yeah. Save the commentary. I just needed to talk to you two.” “Ooooh,” Rita sing-songed, flopping onto Nico’s lap with theatrical flair. “This sounds serious. Trouble in paradise?” “Not with Tristan,” I said quickly. “With Eloise.” The teasing faded, replaced by genuine curiosity. Nico leaned forward, blocking half of Rita’s f

The bell rang and chatter spilled into the corridors, the usual chaos after class. Eloise slung her bag over her shoulder, trying to make sense of the new routine at Heldon High. She hadn’t taken more than three steps when Aisha latched onto her arm, eyes bright with the thrill of gossip.Aisha was a very physically affectionate person and I was not. It still made me feel odd whenever she touched me out of the blue but I was learning to accommodate it.I didn’t want her to feel bad about anything. “Okay, you need to know this if you want to survive here,” Aisha said in a whisper, tugging Eloise closer as they walked.“Know what?”“About the who is who in Heldon high? And who you are to avoid or get close to in order to survive” I arched a brow. “Survive? What, is this a battlefield now?” “In a way, yes.” Aisha gave me a look so serious and I almost laughed. “Heldon High runs on hierarchy. Every grade has its royalty, and trust me, you don’t want to get on their bad side.” I

The classroom buzzed with the usual chatter that came right before the class bell. Pens tapping, paper shuffling, low laughter tucked behind cupped hands. I sat near the window with Aisha, the weak morning sun slipping through half-open blinds and streaking the desks with pale gold.It was two days since Gabrielle threatened me and I could say that I was fairly over it. Tristan seemed to avoid me throughout the weekend but I didn’t mind that to be honest.I was in no mood to speak to him after what he said about my mom. Aisha leaned closer, grinning as she whispered, “So, detention wasn’t that bad, right? Just us and the three crowns pretending they’re too good to share the same air as us.” I laughed under my breath. “I mean it could have been worse. Gabrielle could have managed to scratch my eyes out.” “She wishes,” Aisha said, rolling her eyes. “I saw the way you handled her. Honestly, I should be taking notes. You had her shaking.” I smirked. “Yeah, we both know that I w

The detention room smelled like dust and old wood, its cracked windows letting in streams of light that made the place look more like a forgotten storage closet than a punishment hall. This was my prison. Well, our prison. The five of us sat spread out at different chairs, the silence sharp enough to cut through. Aisha sat slouched beside me, tapping her pencil on the table in rhythmic little bursts. Her braids fell over one shoulder, and the stubborn smirk tugging at her lips reminded me of yesterday’s chaos. It was hard to believe that this seemingly harmless girl that looked like she had never thrown a punch could jump into an outnumbered fight for me.That was really cool.I nudged her arm. “You know,” I said, leaning close enough so the others wouldn’t hear, “you looked like a tiny warrior out there. Cute, but fierce. I thought you were going to claw someone’s eyes out.” Her grin widened, her teeth flashing. “And you looked like some hero. You actually stood up to them, E