Calla's POV:“I release the chaos. I let go of poison. I am not her,” I whispered, eyes closed.The morning air was soft and calm and I knelt in the Blackwell garden with a metal bowl filled with dried sage, lavender, and a few herbs Greta had angrily hissed were for "pasta, not paganism." I lit the corner, and as the fire caught, the smoke began to curl like fingers around me. My aunt used to do cleansing rituals. She said it helps clear thick, dark energies. Another puff of smoke spiraled into my face. I coughed—gracefully, I hoped—and waved it off.Of course, that’s when I heard footsteps. I didn’t need to look up. I could already feel the darkness behind me. “What the hell is this? A séance?” Madden’s voice was flat, tired, and rich with disapproval. “Should I be worried you're about to summon a demon or marry a tree?”I cracked one eye open. “It's sage. I'm cleansing negative energy. This house is practically marinated in it.”He stared at the swirling smoke. “You know what el
Nyla's POV;I found her outside, heels in one hand, pacing barefoot in the cold parking lot. She was literally fuming and I'm so fucking confused. Since when has Isa gone soft? “Isa—wait!” I called, jogging after her.She turned for a second with wide eyes, looking hurt, and a little wild. She took a step backwards, confusing me the more.“Nyla?” she blinked, like she'd forgotten I existed.I reached her, breathless. “Hey. Are you okay?”She stared at me like I was a stranger. “Why are you following me?”“Because you just smashed Davina's phone and stormed out in rage . Of course I’m going to check on my bestfriend.” I managed, chewing the insides of my mouth.She shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”“Try me.”She looked away. “I just… I’m tired, Nyla. Of everything. Of playing their damn games. They don’t care about me. You know know that.”I swallowed. Because yeah. I did. I know how much they hated her yet can't seem to stand her leaving them or getting new friends.Kassandr
Calla's POV:The bass hit like a hammer to the chest, causing my head to throb painfully. I hate loud music!The club was a full-on circus. Neon lights flashed like sirens. Girls in bikinis were twerking on platforms, writhing against poles slick with sweat and champagne. Someone sprayed a bottle of Moët into the crowd like it was confetti. The air stank of money, lust, and cologne.My heels sank into something sticky. I didn’t want to look down. I didn't want to be disgusted twice.“Isn’t this divine?” Kassandra yelled over the music as she dragged me past a velvet rope. “No rules. No pants. No consequences! Just rich humans getting drunk senseless!” I didn’t get to reply because we were already ascending a narrow staircase to the VIP room. In the room, curtains were pulled with candles glowing in sleek wall sconces. Three men were waiting.My heart dropped to my feet.The men were hot, sculpted, and shirtless. Each one built like they were auditioning for a sin-themed calendar. O
Calla's POV:When I offered to make dinner, and Madden accepted,I didn't know it'd make me nervous. I definitely wouldn't want to ruin this.The stew simmered softly on the stove, its scent warm and buttery, curling through the glossy, cold kitchen. I stirred it gently, watching the bubbles. I’d added just enough herbs, a touch of spice, a splash of lemon for brightness. Something made with motherly love and affection for my “family". Something his wife would never do and since I was cursed to be in this body, I'll have to fix things. This house is so cold… reeking of hatred.Behind me, I heard the familiar shuffle of heavy slippers and the exaggerated wheeze of disdain.Nanny Greta.I'm not ready for her, right now.The woman who had raised Madden and then tried—poorly—to raise his daughter. The woman who adored Egi like a treasure and barely hid the loathing she felt every time she looked at me.Well—Isadora. If she knew me as Calla, she'd have loved me. No one would've hated me.
Calla's POVThe moment the principal left the office, I felt his rage. The shift in the air was suffocating. He was like a thunderstorm had walked in wearing an expensive watch and a bad mood.Madden’s arms crossed as he turned toward me, his jaw ticking like he was grinding teeth into diamonds.I sat neatly in the chair, legs crossed, hands folded in my lap, channeling every ounce of Stepford-wife energy I could muster. Very un-Isadora. Very un– witch.He narrowed his eyes “Okay,” he said finally, slowly. “What the hell is this?”I blinked up at him, innocently .“What’s what?”He motioned vaguely at my outfit, like my blouse had personally insulted his ancestors. “This. The Disney princess getup. The soft hair. The—” He pointed accusingly at my arm. “Minimal tattoos. Who the hell are you right now?”I smoothed my blouse and looked down at the rose inked on my shoulder.. “You noticed the rose. Cute.”“Answer the question.”I leaned back. “Why does it bother you so much? That I look… d
Madden's POV"...no, Bernard, I don’t care if they want fifty-one percent. They’re not getting it." I spoke into the phone with the calm precision of a man holding a loaded gun behind his back. But my fury was simmering.The water in the sink was still running, steam curling up the mirror. I wasn’t even dressed yet, my shirt unbuttoned, hair a mess. But the investors kept pushing, like I didn’t just rebuild their precious empire from the ash heap that I turned into an empire. “Tell them it’s forty-five or the deal’s off. I’ll go direct-to-market and drown them in our next quarter.” “Understood.” Bernard replied solemnly, knowing very well that no one's changing my mind.I stared at myself in the mirror. My eyes were cold with sleepless shadows under them. A man who’d clawed his way to power and now stood shaking from one kiss he never should’ve given. That kiss was my undoing. I couldn't control myself, neither could I stop the thoughts that were ravaging and tormenting my mind.W