LITTLE MISS RED

RED. It isn’t really a mind-blowing moment or anything like that. I had just finished a class, tired and exhausted, and trudged to my office. But on my way there, loud noise coming from one of the empty classrooms drew me in. It’s late in the evening; not many people should be in school. Maybe I’m about to stumble upon some juicy information or something. I once heard a professor talk about how he stumbled upon some students having sex—he couldn’t do anything about it, because most of the students in Arborheight are rich, spoilt brats whose parents could ruin your life. I approached the classroom with caution, my heel clicking softly against the marble floor in the hallway. Anxious and curious, I raised my hand to open the door. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, excitement running through me—only for the door to be yanked open from inside. I dropped my hand quickly, my face a brighter shade of red than my hair. I looked around, trying to feign the fact that I wasn’t a

REDOh God. Oh God. Oh God.I paced around the house, running both hands through my hair. I am never touching alcohol again in my life.I kissed my student.I’m going to throw up.Ding dong.I ran barefoot to the door—probably Alice. I yanked it open like my life depended on it.“I know you missed me but girl, calm down—”“I kissed my student!”Alice froze. “You did what?!”I dragged her inside and slammed the door shut.“I said I kissed my—”“I heard you the first time.”She dropped her bag on the sofa. She was still in her scrubs and Crocs—fresh off a night shift. Instead of resting, she’s here trying to untangle my chaos. I feel bad… but not enough to stop panicking.“How did it happen, Reddy?”I told her everything. Every detail. No shame left in my bones.“You’ve got to quit your job,” she said immediately.“What!!! No, why? I don’t want to go back to Starbucks, getting hit on by horny twenty-year-olds.”“That boy wants to fuck you.”“We don’t know that.”She gave me a look. One e

MICHAELThe study always smelled the same — old leather, whiskey, and dominance.My father’s signature.He didn’t look up when I entered. Just finished signing something, folded the page with that precise, mechanical calm of his, and finally said:“Close the door, Michael.”His voice hadn’t aged. Still smooth. Still sharp enough to slice obedience out of anyone weaker.I didn’t move.“I won’t be long.”That made him look up. Dark eyes flat as steel, assessing, dissecting.“You’ve been making noise in the press again.”I almost smiled. Noise.That’s what he called building something without his hand in it.“It’s called visibility,” I said. “You used to like that.”A ghost of a smirk tugged at his mouth — cold, calculated.“Visibility is fine. Defiance isn’t.”A low laugh slipped out of me. “You still think I belong to you.”“You do.” He leaned back in that ridiculous throne of a chair. “Everything you have, I gave you. You’re my creation, Michael. My legacy.”Something twisted in my che

REDI feel like a rat. A criminal.It’s been a week, and I’ve been dodging Michael like the plague. It’s exhausting and humiliating. I don’t know how to face him after that night. I don’t know what to say. I can’t even think straight without remembering his hands on me.“Watch where you’re going, Miss Townsend.”I blinked quickly, stopping before I walked straight into the door. I forced a polite smile.“Thank you.”I trudged into the break room. I haven’t slept properly in days. My nerves are fried. Every night I dream of him—of how hot he looked with his fingers buried inside me, of how easily he unraveled me. It’s insane.“Miss Townsend, I heard you have Michael Dew in your class.”I froze at the sound of his name.“I wouldn’t be surprised if she seduced him,” Darna said loudly. “It’s what she does best. Seducing men.”I choked on my coffee and glared at her. This woman needed to leave me alone.“Miss Townsend isn’t like that. She’s a good person,” one lecturer said in my defense.B

REDMy life lately has been… good. Too good. So good that the nagging ache at the pit of my stomach refuses to leave. Something is coming. Something bad. I can feel it like a shadow crawling up my spine. Michael keeps telling me I have nothing to worry about, but I can’t shake the feeling.“And that’s all for today, class. Have a good day.”I gather my things and walk out of the hall.The relationship between Michael and me is something I still—honestly—don’t understand. Ever since that day at my house, we haven’t seen each other. Some business deal in France. But we’ve been texting, FaceTiming, hearing each other’s voices every night. And I want to ask him what exactly we are… but I’m terrified to hear the answer.He makes me happy. He makes me strong. He makes me feel good in a way I’ve never known. But he could have anyone—some rich socialite, a tall, slim blonde model, a breathtaking influencer. I don’t want to ruin my own joy by asking him to define us.I walk into my office, drop