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Author: Liptu
last update publish date: 2026-10-23 21:43:38

I smoothed down the front of my gown, held my glass of champagne like a trophy, and marched straight over to him, completely oblivious to the rest of the billionaire circus around us.

What on earth is a pizza-loving lighting technician doing at an elite Parisian gala? I wondered, my brain doing joyful little backflips. Doesn't matter. The universe clearly knows I deserve a reward for surviving Aaron’s circus.

Nicholas didn't wait for me to reach his side. The second I stepped into his line of s
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  • DOOM AT THEIR DOORS: TALES OF ILLICIT LONGINGS    Birdwit?

    I sat on the edge of the mattress, my hands still tingling from the slap, watching Emilian perform an Oscar-worthy, slow-motion collapse onto the floor. She let out one final dramatic whimper, closed her eyes, and went completely limp, lying there like a tragic Victorian victim in a three-dollar silk nightgown.I stood up, crossing my arms as I looked down at her fake-fainting body."Oh, sweetie," I said, my voice dripping with pure, unadulterated sarcasm. "Don't worry. I am a certified CPR expert. I am going to help you wake back up right now."Before Emilian could even process what I said, I stooped down, grabbed her by both ankles, and began dragging her across the bedroom floor like a bag of laundry."W-Wait…what are you..?!" Emilian gasped, her eyes snapping open as her ass scraped across the floor. She kicked frantically, trying to twist away, but I held onto her ankles with the grip of a woman who had just survived seven rounds of French cardio."Shh, stay in character, Barbie!

  • DOOM AT THEIR DOORS: TALES OF ILLICIT LONGINGS    Help me

    Not only had the bastard blocked the number on WhatsApp, he had completely, trace-lessly scrubbed Nicholas out of my main contacts.*What was I supposed to do now?!*Just thirty minutes ago on the private jet, I had been soft. I had been stupid. I had actually sat there in his lap, feeling the warm rise and fall of his chest, wishing in some deep, pathetic corner of my brain that we could just stay suspended in the clouds forever.I had even caught myself reminiscing about our freshman year of college, back when Aaron was the star player on the university basketball team,the insufferable, gorgeous school heartthrob who made every girl in a three-mile radius lose her mind. He had picked on me constantly, but back then, I was so hopelessly infatuated that my brain didn't even process his insults as toxic.I distinctly remembered one afternoon when he blocked my path in the hallway, looked at my layered dark outfit, and smirked.“Dressed for Halloween early, shorty?" Aaron had drawled wh

  • DOOM AT THEIR DOORS: TALES OF ILLICIT LONGINGS    No more French pizza man

    Aaron held me in his embrace like I was a fragile piece of fine porcelain he was planning to smash against a brick wall later.For a single, fleeting pathetic second, I closed my eyes and wished we could just stay like that forever,floating above the clouds, away from hospital monitors, cheating scandals. But wishes weren't horses, and since beggars walk barefoot, I was currently walking through life in spiked heels while my husband doubled as my personal jailer.I tried to wiggle my left arm free.Aaron immediately tightened his grip, wrapping his arms around me so fiercely I thought my ribs were going to snap like dry twigs. Not a single word came out of his mouth. Just pure, suffocating, caveman possessiveness.Deciding that fighting a six-foot-two brick wall was a waste of calories, I let out a dramatic huff, rested my head against his hard shoulder, and didn't even realize when total exhaustion dragged me under and I fell fast asleep in his arms.TAP. TAP."Are we home already?"

  • DOOM AT THEIR DOORS: TALES OF ILLICIT LONGINGS    Define shameless.

    "Jessica, go home. You look like a beautiful, highly stressed ghost," my father said, gently squeezing my shoulders in the quiet hospital corridor.The doctor had just announced that only one relative was permitted to stay in the ICU overnight while they prepared Henrietta for her surgery tomorrow, and my father had immediately volunteered to hold down the fort."Dad, I don't want to leave," I protested, my eyes darting toward the doors of Room 408. "What if something happens during the night? What if..""Nothing is going to happen," Noah interrupted softly, offering a tired, reassuring smile. "I'm going to sit right in that uncomfortable plastic chair, drink terrible hospital coffee, and make sure she stays breathing. You and Aaron have been flying across the globe for hours. Go home, get some sleep, and come back first thing in the morning."I had a million questions burning a hole through my tongue. I wanted to ask him why he never told me about Henrietta's diagnosis. I wanted to a

  • DOOM AT THEIR DOORS: TALES OF ILLICIT LONGINGS    Hold on mom

    "We are going to have to perform emergency surgery on her immediately," the doctor’s voice echoed, sounding like it was traveling through a mile of murky water.My head began to spin slowly. The white walls of the hospital room tilted at an unnatural forty-five-degree angle, the loud *beep... beep... beep* of the heart monitor fading into total silence.Suddenly, the memories hit me like an avalanche. Every insult. Every sharp, venomous word I had hurled at her. I remembered calling her a selfish, shallow bitch who only showed up on my father's birthday to flaunt her designer clothes before abandoning us again. I remembered the way Henrietta had looked at me that day,her eyes heavy with an unreadable, tragic sorrow as she whispered: *"Don't speak on things you know nothing about, Jessica."**She didn't abandon us for Vogue,* my brain screamed as my knees buckled completely beneath me. *She left so we wouldn't have to watch her rot from the inside out for seventeen years.*I felt like

  • DOOM AT THEIR DOORS: TALES OF ILLICIT LONGINGS    She was dying......

    I stood outside the door of Room 408, my hand resting on the cold metal handle, while a chaotic storm of memories battered the inside of my brain.*Why are we even here?* I thought, a bitter taste rising in the back of my throat. *Why does my father care so much about a woman who abandoned us when I was barely out of diapers just to chase runway lights in Milan?*I still vividly remembered being a desperate, crying five-year-old, wrapping my tiny arms around her designer suitcase, begging her with all my little heart not to go. And I remembered the cold way she had peeled my fingers off her coat, kissed my forehead like an acquaintance saying goodbye at a bus stop, and walked out of our lives.The only time she ever reappeared was on my father’s last birthday,just long enough to drop off an overpriced, impersonal gift before jetting off to her next career-defining photoshoot like a glamorous ghost.And yet... as I pushed the door open with Aaron right by my side, the sight of her hit

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