Victoria’s fingers traced the rim of her untouched wine glass, the ruby liquid within trembling from the unsteady rhythm of her hands.
She sat across from Caspian in the intimate restaurant section of Lavish Heights, her back straight yet clearly stiffened, like someone bracing for either a proposal or a disaster.But Caspian just stared.His eyes, a darkened storm cloud of indecision. He wasn’t admiring her. He wasn’t drawn in by the deep red dress that screamed wealth, or the slight shimmer of her glossy lips.He was thinking. He was contemplating. He was planning his escape.Victoria crossed her legs elegantly under the table, shifting slightly in her chair. “You haven’t said anything since I sat down,” she finally said, forcing a small smile that looked more like a wince. “Should I be worried?”Caspian blinked, dragged back into the moment. His jaw clenched faintly, his throat bobbing in a tighVictoria’s fingers traced the rim of her untouched wine glass, the ruby liquid within trembling from the unsteady rhythm of her hands. She sat across from Caspian in the intimate restaurant section of Lavish Heights, her back straight yet clearly stiffened, like someone bracing for either a proposal or a disaster.But Caspian just stared.His eyes, a darkened storm cloud of indecision. He wasn’t admiring her. He wasn’t drawn in by the deep red dress that screamed wealth, or the slight shimmer of her glossy lips. He was thinking. He was contemplating. He was planning his escape.Victoria crossed her legs elegantly under the table, shifting slightly in her chair. “You haven’t said anything since I sat down,” she finally said, forcing a small smile that looked more like a wince. “Should I be worried?”Caspian blinked, dragged back into the moment. His jaw clenched faintly, his throat bobbing in a tigh
Dorian sat perched on a polished barstool inside Lavish Heights, tapping his fingers restlessly against the smooth counter. The dim amber lighting overhead cast a soft, moody glow across the space, and the faint buzz of chatter mingled with jazzy lo-fi music floating through the air.He sighed heavily and bit down slowly on his bottom lip as he watched Ronan behind the counter, rhythmically tilting bottles, pouring, shaking, and sliding glasses across to waiting patrons. The guy moved like a pro—smooth, confident, and slightly annoying.Dorian leaned forward, his cheek grazing the cool counter. “How long is this gonna take?” He muttered, his voice low and laced with boredom and mild irritation. His eyes flicked toward Ronan again. “You’ve served like... twelve tequilas and one zombie already.”“Guy, chill. It’s happy hour,” Ronan whispered with a wink, barely glancing at him as he expertly garnished a cocktail with a lemon twi
Dorian finally reached home and collapsed onto the bed like a man who had just run a marathon through hell wearing stilettos.He didn’t think. He didn’t blink. He didn’t even care.Until his cheek brushed the sheets and a memory slammed into him like a high-speed bus.“Wait… isn’t this the same fucking bed Ronan and Nikki were screwing on?”He bolted upright like someone just hit him with a cattle prod. “Oh my God. I’m literally lying in straight people’s sweat. Shit!”His face twisted in disgust. He grabbed the nearest pillow and screamed into it.“This is my villain origin story.”He kicked the bedsheet, then his own foot, then dramatically flopped back onto the mattress like a Shakespearean widow.His brain spun like a dying laptop fan.He was fired. FIRED. By the man he once bullied. The same man he once lowkey crushed on. The same man whose high school trauma probably had Dorian’s name written all over it in red ink.“Oh my God,” he whispered into the ceiling, his eyes wild. “I
Dorian stormed out of Vale Enterprises, his heart pounding like a war drum.But it wasn’t just the beat of panic. No. It was the storm of emotions crashing inside him. Anger. Embarrassment. Shame. Confusion. All of it twisted into one unbearable knot.He walked fast, almost like he was trying to outrun the building behind him. To outrun what just happened. To outrun Caspian Vale.But when he got to the next block, his steps faltered. He turned around and looked back.There it was.That glass tower—Vale Enterprises—staring down at him like a god who had just rejected him. A place he once thought could change his life. A place that offered hope. But instead?It took everything.His eyes stung. He clenched his fists.His mother was gone. His father had never been in the picture since then. All he had was this job, and now even that had been ripped away by the same person he once tormented.He wasn't even given his first salary nor did he spend up to a month there. He bit down on his bot
The hiss of water hitting the tiled floor filled the sleek, spacious bathroom as steam curled along the glass shower walls like silent ghosts. Caspian stood under the rain-like spray of the waterfall shower head, his muscles taut, and his hands braced against the wall in front of him. Water streamed down the broad line of his back, trailing along the ridges of his spine and soaking his dark hair into a slicked mess.His jaw was clenched, his teeth grinding behind his lips.“Married? To Victoria fucking Keene?” He growled to himself, water splattering around as his fist collided with the shower wall. The impact echoed off the marbled tiles, but he didn’t care.His mother had truly lost it.He hadn't even been out of bed for some minutes and yet the day already felt ruined. There was no way in hell he was going through with that arranged bullshit. His chest heaved with each breath, the water doing little to calm the fire bubbling in his stomach.“I’m not some puppet she can parade at
Alexandra’s footsteps echoed faintly as she stepped off the quiet sidewalk onto the familiar stretch of Caspian Vale’s private drive. The morning air was crisp, still slightly chilly despite the peeking sun, and the leaves rustled gently in the breeze. Her soft-soled sneakers crunched over the gravel path as she adjusted the grocery bag in her arms, her gray scarf fluttering behind her.She didn’t stop to greet anyone today. This wasn't New York’s Upper East Side where neighbors leaned out from flower-box windows. Caspian's neighborhood was upscale, gated, and private. Also, a quiet place. Too quiet. But her mind wasn’t on the silence—it was on the young man she had met on the bus just a few minutes ago.She smiled to herself. “Sweet kid. He is clearly tangled in something bigger than he could carry alone.”And she had seen that same something mirrored too many times in Caspian’s eyes. He had that same gnawing loneliness beneath all his sarcasm and wit, the same reluctance to name