Lily's POV
I sat in my small room, heart pounding, staring at my phone like my life depended on it. The anxiety twisting in my chest was unbearable. I kept refreshing the page, hoping my SAT result would pop up — some of my classmates had already gotten theirs. My name is Lily Serena. I had just graduated from high school, and now, I was dying inside, waiting for this result. I shouldn’t have been so worried. I was the best student in school — always at the top, the face of every competition, an ambassador, the girl with a shelf full of awards. But still, I was scared. It wasn’t about whether I passed. I knew I wrote the exam well — I crushed it. It was about something bigger. Scholarship. If I could score 1400 or higher, I had a real shot at getting a full scholarship to New York University, my dream school. Without it, I had no chance. My mom couldn’t afford NYU's fees — she could only maybe cover rent and food. The rest was up to me. And NYU wasn’t just any school. It was the school for law, as far as I was concerned. It was a little far from Beacon City, but that didn’t matter. "We live in a small rented flat — just a sitting room, two bedrooms, and a kitchen. It’s not much, but it's home." The longer I waited, the worse my anxiety grew. I wished someone was here to calm me down, but Mom was at work. I didn’t have any friends either — not because I was weird or anything. It was because of where I came from, who I lived with. In this community, a single mother was treated like she carried a disease. Their judgment was a knife that never stopped cutting. Sometimes it felt sharper than any blade could ever be — slicing through my pride, my hope, my sense of belonging. I had been bullied countless times for it, so many times that eventually... I stopped caring. Maybe it made me stronger. Maybe it just made me numb. The only thing that could still make me feel weak was this SAT result. I sighed and flopped onto my bed, opening N*****x. Maybe if I found a good romantic or action movie, I could distract myself for a while. That’s when the notification popped up: "Your SAT Results Are Ready." I froze. Panic gripped me. I stood up and paced, my entire body trembling. Sweat beaded my forehead even though the fan spun loudly overhead. "You did well. You did well, right?" I whispered to myself. Finally, I forced myself to sit back down and log onto the College Board website. My fingers were shaking. The page loaded painfully slowly, each second stretching forever. My heart thundered in my ears. My hands slipped off the mouse, they were so sweaty. Then — the numbers appeared. I blinked. Was I seeing things? No — it was real. It was real. 1500. Not just the 1400 I needed. 1500. I gasped. My body froze. Tears blurred my vision. All the sleepless nights, the silent crying, the moments I wanted to give up... It all led to this. But then reality hit. A good score was just the beginning. I still needed the actual scholarship. I stood up, pacing, trying to calm down. "I can still do this." I whispered to myself over and over. Without wasting time, I grabbed my phone and typed frantically: "Where to find SAT scholarship forms?" Before the result even came out, I had gotten a message that I hadn't checked yet. It was from Emily Rivera: > "Hi dear, this is Emily, your classmate. I’d like to invite you to a get-together party, if you don’t mind — to celebrate our result and also give me a chance to make up for my wrongdoings. I’ll be expecting you, dear Lily." I stared at the message in disbelief. Emily. The same Emily who led the group that bullied me all through high school. The same Emily whose dad basically owned half the school with his donations, letting her get away with everything. The rich, beautiful girl everyone worshipped. Why was she texting me now? It didn’t make sense. Still... maybe it was a good sign. Maybe — just maybe — my life was finally turning around. Good SAT score. New friends. A fresh start. I smiled for the first time in hours and quickly changed clothes. I slipped into an off-shoulder dress Mom had bought for me months ago — a dress that clung a little tightly to my hips and curved around my chest. I felt exposed, uncomfortable, like I was pretending to be someone else. But tonight was about new beginnings, right? I took a taxi to the address Emily sent me: "230 Fifth, near Madison Square Park." When I arrived, I saw them immediately — Emily, two guys, and two other girls, Olivia and Michelle, all standing near the entrance. "Hey, Lily! You look beautiful! Your dressing really surprised me!" Emily said, flashing a bright smile. "Thanks. My mom picked it out for me," I said shyly. "Really? Wow, your mom’s got good taste," she said sweetly — and then Olivia added with a light laugh, "Of course, she would. She’s had a lot of men, right?" The words hit me like a slap. I stared at her, the smile slipping from my face. "Olivia, what do you mean by that?" I asked, my voice colder, firmer. Emily quickly jumped in, waving her hand. "Oh come on, Lily. Olivia’s just being reckless — you know how she is. Don’t let her spoil your night. You're beautiful and outstanding, okay?" Her words soothed me a little. Maybe... maybe she really was trying. Maybe she was sorry for the past. "So, where’s the party holding?" I asked. "At the club, of course!" Emily said, pointing to the towering Marquee Nightclub. I stared at her. "A club?!" I said, shocked. "Relax. It’ll be fun! You need to stop living like a saint, Lily. You’re eighteen now. Time to start living like a real baddie," she teased, laughing. I wasn’t a party person. But maybe Emily was right. Maybe it was time to try something new. The moment I stepped inside, the noise smashed into me like a wave. Bright lights flashed across the packed dance floor. The bass thumped so hard I could feel it in my bones. Couples kissed shamelessly in the dark corners. People grinded on each other on the dance floor. Shouts and laughter tangled with the music until it was just one deafening blur. I clutched my bag tightly, trying not to panic. I was completely out of place. And yet… a tiny, rebellious part of me wanted to let go, just for tonight. Emily handed me a drink. "Here, Lily — it’s just juice. No alcohol, I promise," she said sweetly. A small voice in my head whispered, "Don’t take it." But another, louder voice — maybe my loneliness, maybe my hope — said, "It’s okay. Just this once." I took the drink. Emily giggled and walked off toward two guys standing by the bar. I noticed they kept glancing at me and laughing. Something twisted in my stomach. Something was off. Then Emily came back, dragging the two guys toward me. "Lily, meet my friends!" she said brightly. "I wanted you to meet them because... well, you’re going to NYU soon, and you need to loosen up." I frowned, confused. "Emily, what are you talking about?" She laughed and said, "Relax! I just got you a little gift — something adults do. You’ll enjoy it, even if it’s a little painful at first." My heart dropped. "What do you mean?" I asked sharply. Emily’s smile grew wider, more wicked. "Well... I paid them. They’re going to take your virginity tonight. Don’t panic. It’ll be fine. You’re eighteen now, you’re not a kid anymore. Adults have fun too." I stared at her, horror creeping into every inch of my body. "What? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?" I pointed to myself, my voice shaking. “No! You can’t be talking to me,” I snapped. “Even if I’m ready to lose my virginity, it won’t be like this. I’ll do it with the love of my life—a man who loves me and wants to spend the rest of his life with me, not some stranger. For God’s sake, Emily!” A burst of laughter filled the room. “Oh really?” one of them scoffed. “You think someone like you deserves true love? No man will ever love someone so filthy and low.” One of the men leaned closer. “It’s been a while since I had something fresh... a virgin,” he said, grinding my hand. I yanked it away, but before I could react, a dull ache exploded behind my eyes. The room spun. My heart thundered. My legs buckled. My hands shook uncontrollable I tried to blink away the haze, but it was useless. The world tilted like a sinking ship. “What’s… happening to me?” I whispered, barely recognizing my own voice. I turned to Emily, desperate. She smirked. “Oops… slipped some diazepam into your special drink. My bad.” Her laughter drilled into my skull. In a panic, I fumbled for my phone and called my mom. I called twice. They just kept laughing. “Hi Mom—” “Hey baby girl... ohh Daniel, fuck me harder—” “Mom?” I said, stunned. “What?” “I need your help.” “See, I don’t have time for this. We’ll talk when I get home. Take care.” The line went dead. Another wave of laughter dragged me back. “Even your mom’s having fun,” Emily said. “Why don’t you enjoy yours too… in hell?” “Trust me, no one cares about you,” she added, coldly. “And it's over for you” Maybe she’s right. Maybe… this is the end of meLily’s POVI haven’t slept.Outside my window, Lagos hums awake — vendors calling, buses blaring, sunlight crawling over glass and concrete. But inside, the world is still, caught between heartbreak and denial.I’ve spent the whole night staring at my phone. Every feed, every gossip site, every cruel headline repeats the same story:Sebastian Kingsley and Victoria Whittemore — Power Couple Attend Lagos Convention. Wedding Bells Soon?And the photos. God, the photos.Victoria in emerald silk, her hand looped possessively through Sebastian’s arm. His tailored suit, his distant expression. Together, they look inevitable — like a headline that’s already written itself.I zoom in despite myself. His face is unreadable, but she’s glowing. Confident. Victorious. Like a woman who’s already won.Maybe she has.Maybe I was the fool who thought a man like Sebastian Kingsley could ever see someone like me — a maid, a nobody — and choose her.I toss the phone facedown on my bed and press my palms
Lily’s POVThe laundry room smells of lavender detergent and steam. I’m folding Sebastian’s shirts—crisp whites, pressed collars, careful creases—when I notice Martha standing in the doorway. She’s wringing her hands, glancing over her shoulder as if afraid someone might be listening.“Lily,” she whispers. “Can we talk? Privately?”I freeze mid-fold. Martha and I aren’t friends; she’s spent months pretending I don’t exist unless she needs to correct me. The day Victoria planted stolen jewelry in my room and Martha stayed silent, I swore never to trust her again.So this is strange.“What do you want?” I ask, not bothering to hide my suspicion.She steps inside and shuts the door softly. Under the harsh fluorescent light, she looks older than usual—drained, pale, frightened. “I need to tell you something,” she says. “About Miss Victoria.”My hands still. “If this is another of her games—”“It’s not,” she cuts in, voice trembling. “I swear it isn’t. I’ve done terrible things, Lily. Stoo
Chapter 28: Martha’s WarningLily's POVThe laundry room smells like lavender detergent and steam. I'm folding Sebastian's shirts carefully—collar first, sleeves aligned, creased down the middle—when Martha appears in the doorway. She hovers there, wringing her hands, glancing over her shoulder like she's being followed."Lily." Her voice is barely above a whisper. "Can we talk? Privately?"I look up from the crisp white shirt in my hands, surprised. Martha and I aren't friends. We've never been friends. She's always kept her distance, watching me with calculating eyes, occasionally making snide remarks about my special treatment from Mr. Kingsley. After the jewelry incident—where Victoria planted stolen items in my room and Martha stood by silently—I'd written her off completely."What do you want?" I don't bother hiding my wariness."Please." She steps fully into the room, closing the door behind her. In the harsh fluorescent light, she looks older than her forty-something years. Ti
Sebastian's POVMy headache starts the moment I wake up. It's not the dull throb of too little sleep or too much whiskey. This is sharper. Specific. Like someone's driving a nail directly into my temple with surgical precision. I press my fingers against the spot, but it doesn't help. Nothing helps lately.I drag myself out of bed and move through my morning routine on autopilot. Shower. Shave. Suit. Each action is precise, divorced from thought. In the mirror, I look like myself—same face, same sharp jawline, same cold eyes—but something feels wrong. Disconnected. Like I'm watching someone else wear my skin.The convention. I should remember more about it than I do. Victoria was there. We attended together. People took photos. I made appropriate conversation. But the details are slippery, sliding away whenever I try to grasp them. What did we talk about? Who did we meet? Why did I agree to go in the first place?That last question bothers me most.I don't attend social events. I espe
Drey's POVThe coffee in this Ikoyi café tastes bitter, but I drink it anyway. Caffeine is caffeine, and I've been awake for nearly thirty-six hours straight tracking down leads that keep evaporating like morning mist over the lagoon. But this one—this one feels different.I check my watch. She's late. Fifteen minutes late, which either means she's reconsidering or she's making sure she wasn't followed. Given what Olivia's agreed to tell me, I'm betting on the latter.My phone buzzes. Sebastian: Any progress?I type back quickly: Meeting the source now. Will report soon.His reply is instant: Make it count.I've worked for Sebastian Kingsley for two years, and I've learned to read between the lines of his clipped messages. "Make it count" means this matters. Deeply. This isn't just another corporate investigation or background check on a potential business partner. This is personal.This is about his sister. And, though he'd never admit it, this is about Lily.I've watched him over th
Chapter 25: The Morning AfterLily's POVI haven't slept.Outside my window, the city is waking up—the distant honking of buses, the call of street vendors, the familiar chaos of morning. But inside, everything feels still.I've been staring at my phone for hours. I can't stop looking at the photos. They're everywhere. Every news site, every gossip blog, every social media feed I shouldn't be checking but can't help scrolling through:Sebastian Kingsley and Victoria Whittemore Make Rare Public Appearance | Power Couple Alert: Kingsley and Whittemore at Lagos' Most Exclusive Convention | Are Wedding Bells in the Air? Sebastian Kingsley Finally Steps OutAnd the photos. God, the photos.They look perfect together. I hate that I can't deny it. Victoria in that expensive emerald gown and her hand possessively on Sebastian's arm. Sebastian in his tailored suit, looking every inch the billionaire prince. Both of them standing in that glittering venue, surrounded by chandeliers and champagne