LOGIN(ARIELLE'S POV) They say graduation is a milestone. Personally, I think they just want an excuse to make six-year-olds wear polyester caps and parents panic over gift baskets. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself while burning my fingers on the tiny iron-on badge that said “Class of the Yea
The words barely left my lips before the tears did—slipping down my cheeks faster than I could stop them. Jared stood quickly, his hand reaching for my face. “Why are you crying?” I laughed—choked and shaky. “It’s nothing. Sorry. I didn’t mean to…” My fingers trembled as I tried to wave it off
(ARIELLE’S POV) The celebration downstairs had barely ended when the crowd began to surge. Voices surrounded me—some calling my name with admiration, others offering business cards, invitations, flattery. Reporters waved microphones; investors hinted at million-dollar offers. Somewhere, someone
He approached her side quietly. "You look comfortable being the brightest star in the room, Miss Meyers," he murmured. She rolled her eyes, amused. "Don’t start. I already got three reporters asking if I’m the future Mrs. Smith. What’s funny is—I could’ve just said yes. I mean, technically, I am M
(AUTHOR'S POV) Another year had passed. Jared wasn’t the only one who forgot everything quickly. The whole world did the same thing. Just over a year ago, Jared Smith was still the unshakable CEO of the Smith Group—a name that once carried weight in every financial headline and luxury gala invita
(JARED'S POV) In the days that followed, I no longer recognized anyone or anything. There was just a feeling of emptiness and numbness that hung deeply inside of me. But there was a particular pretty woman who always visited. I wake up to find her in my room most mornings, and most nights she sits
“What is your problem?” I muttered, hating the unsteadiness in my voice. “You need to leave.” His grip loosened, but his eyes searched mine, dark and unreadable. “Arielle,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. “All I’m asking for is a chance. Let me prove it to you. To him.” I shook my hea
In the end, I settled on Lemon Chicken Orzo Soup, Pizza Casserole, King Ranch Mac and Cheese. Comfort food. Neutral. At exactly 6 p.m., the doorbell rang. I wiped my hands on a towel, took a deep breath, and opened the door. Jared stood outside, a bottle of wine in his hand. "Hi," he beamed at me
Rebecca chimed in, her tone sharp. “Maybe we should take a sample to a lab. You know, for ‘research purposes.’” Stephen tried to keep a straight face as he added, “Or a journalist. ‘Velvet Fork serves rare chicken—literally.’” The waiter glared at us, but before things could escalate, I stood, car
(ARIELLE'S POV) I stood, frozen, my mind still reeling from Jared's revelation. The hell? Jared Smith, the ever-composed billionaire, suddenly broke and homeless? It didn’t add up. Especially not with his influential family in the wings. What kind of game was he playing this time? The toothbrush







