MasukEzra's POV
By the next morning, Ezra had almost convinced himself yesterday had not gotten to him.
Almost.
That belief vanished the instant he crossed the threshold of the front doors.
"Speak of the devil," a student shouted near the display case.
"Look out, everyone," another called out. "Monroe might entertain us again."
Laughter erupted down the corridor. Ezra felt his stomach drop instantly. Word had spread everywhere. At Ashford Academy, rumors traveled faster than the school bell.
He kept his head lowered while navigating the crowd, ignoring a shoulder bumping against his on purpose along with a snort following him toward his locker. Arriving at his destination, his whole morning felt completely ruined before eight fifteen.
"Morning, Monroe."
Ezra shut his eyes. That specific tone remained unmistakable.
He turned around to find Jace leaning against the adjacent metal door, hair disheveled as though he had just awakened, looking infuriatingly composed after spending yesterday embarrassing him before half the student body.
"What do you want?"
Jace raised his eyebrows. "Wow."
"What?"
"Nothing. You seem irritable today."
"You are incredible, you know that?"
"I try." Jace offered a slow, intentional grin, clearly enjoying the reaction. "Go on, explain how incredible."
"Leave."
A genuine reaction flashed across his features briefly before his usual smirk returned. "Look at you. Developing confidence overnight."
"Maybe you are becoming tiresome."
A couple of nearby younger students gasped. Ezra ignored them. He watched Jace push away from the lockers and step forward, closing the distance until Ezra had to tilt his head to maintain eye contact, close enough to notice the scent of soap mixed with warmth that sent his pulse racing.
"Careful," Jace murmured, lowering his voice below the hallway noise. "You are acting bold today."
"I am acting exhausted."
The phrase registered. Ezra observed the impact, watching Jace's jaw tighten while his eyes narrowed as if reevaluating the situation.
"Exhausted from what?"
"This." Ezra gestured between them abruptly. "The comments. The audience. The daily routine you perform as if my existence is entertainment for your group."
The corridor grew quiet enough for Ezra to hear his own heartbeat.
Jace lost his smirk entirely. "You are dramatic."
"Right. Naturally." Ezra let out a brief, humorless laugh. "Foolish of me to assume three years of continuous behavior meant anything to you."
For a single, suspended moment, silence fell between them, the atmosphere heavy with an unexpected tension. Jace shifted his focus briefly to Ezra's lips, causing Ezra's body to freeze while heat rose up his neck.
Then the bell rang loudly, shattering the moment instantly.
"Whatever," Jace said, backing away to create distance.
Ezra grabbed his bag and departed without another word, refusing to look back or provide any satisfaction.
He did not notice Jace remaining in place a full minute later, watching him leave with an expression no one at Ashford Academy had ever witnessed on his face.
"Okay, what was that?" Mason appeared at Jace's side out of nowhere. "You are standing here looking strange."
"I am fine."
"You stared at him like..." Mason paused, observing his friend's expression until his own face shifted into confusion and shock. "Why do you target Monroe anyway? Seriously. Why?"
Jace opened his mouth.
No sound came out.
The standard explanation used to be that it was funny, or because people laughed, or because he reacted.
None of those reasons applied anymore, a realization that unnerved him.
"Quiet down, Mason."
"That is not an explanation."
"It is the only one you are receiving."
Ezra spent the remainder of the morning attempting to focus on other matters without success. During English class, Jace's tone echoed in his thoughts, sounding low, close, and far too attentive for an adversary.
He caught himself watching Jace across the room, laughing easily with peers and appearing completely unbothered, which created a sour feeling in his stomach. It felt unfair that Jace could navigate his day effortlessly while Ezra analyzed every single interaction for hours afterward, searching for hidden meaning.
Mr. Holloway clapped his hands to gain attention as the end of class approached. "Before leaving, remember the semester assignment. Partners. I have selected them."
Groans spread through the classroom.
Ezra barely had time to prepare before the announcement.
"Ezra Monroe and Jace Ryland."
The room reacted immediately. Someone cheered, while someone else gasped. Mason, three seats away, looked deeply bothered.
Ezra turned, dread settling in his stomach, and found Jace staring directly back at him with no smirk or act for the crowd.
It was just Jace, watching him with an unreadable expression alongside a slight curve at the corner of his mouth that made Ezra's heart beat faster in the middle of class.
"Looks like we are paired together, Monroe," Jace said, keeping his voice quiet enough for only him to hear.
Ezra felt his face warm up.
This situation was going to create a major complication.
Two years had transformed nearly everything about our lives, though the fundamental core of what we'd built together remained exactly as steady and certain as it had been that day on the rooftop when Jace first asked me to marry him.Phoenix, my new company built from the ashes of everything Eros Cosmetics had survived, now operated in twelve countries, its ethical sourcing and transparent business practices becoming something of an industry standard other companies scrambled to emulate. I'd rebuilt from scratch after everything my father's manipulation had nearly destroyed, and something about starting fresh, unburdened by his legacy, had felt like its own kind of liberation.The decision to rename and rebuild entirely hadn't been easy, months of careful strategy alongside Diane and a new board I'd personally vetted for genuine integrity rather than mere profitability. But watching Phoenix flourish now, entirely free from any lingering shadow of my father's influence, made every diff
The morning of the wedding arrived softer than I expected, golden light spilling through the curtains of the small guesthouse where I'd spent the night separately from Jace, tradition winning out over practicality despite both of us grumbling about the arrangement for weeks beforehand.I'd barely slept, replaying every detail of the past year in fragmented, restless dreams, waking repeatedly just to reach across the empty bed before remembering, with a mixture of amusement and longing, exactly why the space beside me remained cold.Helen burst through the door precisely at eight, carrying coffee and an armful of garment bags, Lena trailing behind her with considerably calmer energy.Today's the day, Helen announced, setting everything down with theatrical flourish. Are you nervous.Terrified, I admitted, accepting the coffee gratefully. Excited terrified, though. Not the bad kind.That's the best kind, Lena said, smiling warmly as she began unpacking my suit with careful precision.Di
The car ride into downtown felt charged with an anticipation I couldn't quite name, Jace's hand finding mine at every red light, his thumb tracing idle circles against my knuckles that betrayed nerves he was clearly trying to mask beneath calm exterior.You're going to have to tell me eventually, I said, watching the city lights blur past the window.Not yet, he said, though a smile tugged persistently at his mouth.Is this the reason you've been so distracted all week, I pressed, studying his profile in the passing streetlight.Maybe, he admitted, a small laugh escaping despite his obvious nerves.I've never seen you this nervous, I observed. Not even during the board meeting, not even in the warehouse.This is different, he said simply. This actually matters in a way I get to control completely.I studied his profile in the passing streetlights, something warm settling in my chest at the sight of him this openly vulnerable, this transparently invested in whatever surprise awaited us
Three weeks passed in a blur of ordinary, precious days, the kind neither of us had believed we'd ever actually get to experience together. My father passed quietly in his sleep during the second week, the funeral small and private, attended mostly by lawyers and a handful of distant relatives who'd never truly known him. Vivian came, standing at the edge of the gathering, and afterward we spoke briefly, an uneasy but genuine truce settling between us that felt like the beginning of something neither of us fully understood yet.I found myself surprised by my own reaction to his death, grief tangled uncomfortably with relief, anger still simmering beneath both, a complicated inheritance I suspected would take years to fully process rather than resolve neatly at a single funeral.He doesn't deserve your grief, Jace said gently that evening, holding me as I stared numbly at the ceiling.Maybe not, I admitted. But he's still the only father I ever had. Grief doesn't require deserving, app
The message turned out to be nothing more than Weiss’s final, petty attempt at chaos, a scheduled press release exposing minor financial irregularities that Diane’s team neutralized within hours, framing it correctly as the last gasp of a desperate man already in federal custody. By evening, the stock had stabilized, the board had unanimously reinstated my full authority, and for the first time in what felt like months, no new threat waited on the horizon.Diane called around six, her voice carrying genuine relief for the first time since we’d started working together.That’s the last of it, she said. Weiss’s remaining contingencies were mostly bluster, easily contained. Your father’s cooperation with the will and the public apology helped considerably too. I think we’ve finally turned the corner on this entire situation.Thank you, I said, meaning it more deeply than the simple words could properly convey. For everything.Just doing my job, she said, though warmth colored her voice d
I woke again sometime past midnight, the hospital room dim and quiet, Ezra still curled carefully against my side, his breathing slow and even in sleep.I studied his face in the low light, memorizing the soft curve of his mouth, the way his lashes rested against his cheekbones, feeling something profound settle deep in my chest despite the lingering ache from the day’s ordeal.He stirred slightly, eyes fluttering open, and a soft, sleepy smile crossed his face the moment he registered me watching him.You’re awake, he murmured. How do you feel.Better, I said honestly. Still sore, but better.He shifted carefully, propping himself up on one elbow to look at me properly.You should be resting, he said, though he made no move to leave.I’ve been resting all day, I said. I want to actually be present with you for a while, not just unconscious beside you.Something warm flickered across his expression at that.I like being present with you too, he admitted quietly.We lay there together







