Nobela ni mariachiamaka3010

Jason narrowed his eyes. “So what, then?” Adler leaned in, elbows on the table. “I’m here to tell you we’re going to clean this up. Together.” Jason let out a dry laugh. “I don’t remember signing up for—.” “You didn’t. But you’re in it now,” Adler said, voice even. “We both are. That headline isn’t just about me— Your father’s name is in this too. We cannot afford anyone snooping around there.” Jason went still. Adler’s gaze was steady, cold fire behind it. “I’m not asking you to like me. I’m asking you to carry yourself properly.” “Because right now, your name isn't just yours—it’s public.” Jason opened his mouth but no words came. He just stared, swallowing down everything he couldn’t say. “Put on something decent,” Adler said, standing almost immediately, not breaking stride. “You’re coming with me.” Jason blinked. “To where?” “PR brunch. You’re going to smile and remind the world we’re a family.” The sarcasm in his voice should’ve landed like a jab, but Jason

For a moment, Jason let himself believe things were normal. That his dad was downstairs, reading the paper, his mom humming along to the radio as usual. But reality was sharper. He sat up, eyes catching the neat gray suit draped over the chair. Adler’s. Mom must have left it there. It was crisp and well-kept just like the man himself. He could hear the clinking of plates and Judy’s soft voice from downstairs while he took his time to dress, delaying what would inevitably be a morning full of forced smiles and fake conversation. When he came down, Adler was already seated, sipping his coffee like he owns the damn house. It was undeniable though. He looked good—because why wouldn’t he? Perfect hair, perfect posture, like the universe just handed him mornings on a silver platter. Immediately, Jason tore his gaze away before his brain got any dumber. “Good morning,” Judy said, her eyes flicking from Adler to Jason. He muttered something that sounded like morning and reached f

“So... your mom got married and you didn’t even text me?” Jason didn’t look up. He just kept peeling at the label on his drink cup, eyes fixed on the wet pavement. Ava raised a brow, nudging his knee with hers. “Rude.” He sighed. “It’s not exactly something I wanted to talk about.” They were parked behind the old thrift store on Hillside Avenue, same spot they used to sneak off to back in high school when they needed to vent, sulk, or scream-laugh until their stomachs hurt. Jason sat on the hood of her car, legs swinging, the scent of rain still clinging to the air. Ava leaned beside him holding her iced coffee, one sneaker tapping the bumper like a slow metronome. Her curly hair was pulled into a messy bun, and she wore that same oversized hoodie he remembered from high school— the one with half the sleeves chewed off. She had said she wanted it cap sleeve just like the ones on the magazines. “Well, the whole town already knows,” she said, stretching her legs out. “My aunt sen

Adler carefully rolled the cuff of his white dress shirt back down and fastened the button. The press conference had gone better than he expected. The questions had been straightforward,yes, but predictable. His aides prepared the entire narrative perfectly, painting him as a man the people could relate to, a man with roots. A man with a family. He had smiled when asked about “adjusting to married life,” glancing at Judy the way a husband was expected to and, she returned the gesture, her lips curving with that sweet but distant smile people wear when the cameras are still watching. They were good at this, he thought while smiling to himself. Or at least, good enough. Behind this image was the bargain. The performance. The careful architecture of appearances that kept his world steady. He’d replayed it all in his mind more times than he cared to admit—because rehearsing meant control. And control was what kept everything intact. The quiet room behind him looked nothing like the

It's Saturday, 5.48 p.m. Jason stepped in through the front door of his house with a low grunt, dragging his suitcase behind him. He had not been home in months especially after the tragedy that happened September 17th. Almost 3 years now.College had all of a sudden become more of a refuge than an obligation, and Birknam... well, it had stopped feeling like home long ago. The house was quiet, though he could hear the distant clatter of pans while his nose picked up the warm scent of something herby,rosemary, maybe. He exhaled and moved down the passage, expecting to find his mom vibing to one of her favorite songs in the kitchen. Instead, he stopped short at the sight of a man. Tall. Sleeves rolled to the forearm of a beige button-down that fits him just right. Broad shoulders and a sharp posture. He had not turned yet, but Jason could feel that the young man was someone important. Then he did turn, unhurried, like he already sensed Jason coming. His eyes, a sharp, startling