로그인In my dream that night, the gala turned into a total shit show. Chandeliers dripped blood-red light, and guests wore masks that sneered at me as I walked by.Whispers followed like freaking smoke: "Step-brothers... disgusting... what would their parents think?"Familiar faces...Mom, Roderick, Frank, loomed from the crowd, eyes full of disgust. Mom turned away, Roderick disowned us with one cold word, and Frank... Frank just walked away, heartbroken and silent, leaving me alone in the center of the ballroom as the whispers turned to shouts.I’ve had multiple dreams of being trapped and drowning...but why did this one feel so close to home?I jolted awake, heart racing, sheets damp with sweat. The suite was pitch dark except for the faint glow of the city outside, the clock on the nightstand reading 2:47 a.m. I sat up, disoriented and trembling, the dream clinging to me like cobwebs.Unable to even think about falling back asleep, I grabbed my phone and texted him.Me: You awake?His re
I was just about finally settling into my room and pretending the outside world didn’t even exist when all of a sudden they barged in."Mr. Atlas, good evening," the lead stylist chimed in, already unzipping the protective cover of the emerald suit. "We’re here for the final fitting. Mr. Harrigan wants everything to be perfect for tonight’s gala."I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, still wrapped in the plush robe from the night before. "Already? It’s barely... what time is it?""Eight-thirty," she said cheerfully, as if that explained everything. "We’ve got a tight schedule. Hair styling at eleven in the morning, photos at two, and leave by six."Two assistants flanked her, one already holding the suit jacket aloft while the other spread out accessories on the vanity: polished black dress shoes, a silver cufflink set that looked like it belonged in a museum, matching tie pin and pocket square that sparkled like captured stars. I felt like a mannequin being dressed for display.
The jet landed smoothly, barely bumping the ground, the tires almost delicately touching the tarmac as if they were afraid to disturb it. From my oval window, I took in the sight of Hayseville below—an endless stretch of desert punctuated by a dazzling display of neon and glass that looked like someone had tossed a bunch of jewels across the sand.Even in the daylight, the city seemed alive, lights flashing in vibrant pinks and electric blues, hotels shaped like pyramids and golden spheres rising as if to compete with the sky itself.Pressing my face against the glass as we taxied, I felt my heart do a little flip, a feeling that had nothing to do with flying. Willow Haven had its own charm...quiet streets, familiar faces, kinda had that cozy small-town vibe that made you feel secure, but this?It was something completely different. Hayseville didn’t just whisper; it roared, all glitz and extravagance, like Vegas had decided to mature, get some work done, and start flaunting designer
The moment I opened my eyes the next morning, the room was already buzzing with activity. Maids flitted around like they were on a mission, they were opening closet doors, laying out garment bags, and wheeling in trays of hot coffee and pastries, as if we were gearing up for a royal event instead of just a two-hour flight.Someone had already drawn back the heavy silk curtains, flooding the suite with pale winter light that bounced off the mirrors in bright flashes. My phone read 7:42 a.m., which meant we were officially running late, and in Roderick Harrigan’s world, being late was basically a crime.I barely had a moment to rub the sleep from my eyes before a maid...Maria, I think, appeared with a tray of fresh orange juice and a warm croissant."Mr. Atlas, we need to hurry. The car leaves for the airport in thirty minutes."I mumbled something unintelligible, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and stumbled into the bathroom, where another maid was already running the shower an
I pushed through the heavy front doors of Oakfield Mansion, instantly hit by the familiar scent of polished wood and fresh pine from the holiday garlands, wrapping around me like an embrace I wasn’t quite sure I wanted. Inside, the foyer was buzzing with a kind of organized chaos...maids darting around with garment bags slung over their arms, suitcases lined up like soldiers by the grand staircase, and Mom in the middle of it all, tablet in hand, directing everyone in that crisp voice she used when she needed things done her way. "Make sure Roderick’s navy tux is in the big black case, no wrinkles, and Atlas’s emerald suit needs its own hanger. And the shoes go in the separate pouch. We’re leaving first thing tomorrow for Hayseville; I don’t want any last-minute scrambling." One of the maids nodded and quickly dashed upstairs. Mom glanced my way as I walked in, her expression softening for just a moment before she realized it was me. "Atlas, honey...how was school?" Please, pleas
I lingered in the library’s quiet long after Frank’s question hung in the air, feeling it settle around me like a weight I couldn’t shake off. The silence wasn’t cold or angry, it was just heavy, the kind that happens when two people who care about each other run out of safe topics to discuss. His hand was still loosely holding mine, and I could sense the slight tremor in his fingers, the effort behind keeping his voice steady. I forced myself to look into his eyes again, and before I could think too much, the words tumbled out, soft and sad and sincere. "For what it’s worth," I said, "my feelings for you haven’t changed. Not even a little." His eyebrows went up slightly, surprise flitting across his face. "You were my first love, Frank," I carried on, this confession feeling both enormous and inevitable. "And I still love you. I probably always will, even if it takes me a while to find the right words to express it. This whole situation I’m dealing with involving someone else? I







