Chapter 1.

Warning!! Adult Themes!!!

Alexa.

New York. Year 2023.

Friday, December 23rd...

My name is Alexa Hills. Eighteen. Invisible.

I’ve always had a talent for blending in. Not in the cute, wallflower way. I mean really blending in—watching the world move, while I disappear into it. I see what others miss. What they try to hide. Their secrets trail behind them like smoke, and I inhale it all. Silently. Carefully.

I don’t speak. I observe.

Like right now.

In the ballroom of Hills’ Mansion, under the glittering chandeliers and Christmas garlands, one of the maids smiles politely while pouring wine for my mother. But I know. I know. She’s pregnant—with the driver’s child. And he doesn’t want it. Says his wife would throw him out if she found out.

“Please Seville…” The maid cried. “Don’t abandon me and the baby…What will we do?” She cried that day I caught them. He pushed her away.

Now she’s here, miserable. Her fake smile, plastic.

I see the panic behind the maid’s fake smile. It’s etched into the way her hands shake.

“Watch it, silly! Where’s your mind?” my mother snaps as wine splashes onto her white silk dress.

The maid flinches. I see tears pool at the corners of her eyes—but she bows and retreats quickly, blending into the army of staff fluttering through the room.

It’s the Hills’ annual Christmas party. White theme. White lies. White smiles. Everyone who matters is here. Senators. Royalty. Tycoons.

Everyone but me.

I exist in the margins, half-hidden behind a lattice panel near the refreshment alcove. My dress is silk. Pearls at my throat. Hair unkempt, cascading in defiant waves. I made this dress. Drew it by hand. Stitched it myself. My grandmother called it “exquisite.” That was the only approval I needed.

“Alexa.”

I startle. My wine nearly spills.

“Jon,” I hiss, slapping a hand over my racing heart. “You scared the crap out of me.”

My cousin leans closer, grinning like he lives to torment me. “You hiding in here while Ashley plays princess?”

“Not hiding. Just... observing.”

He snorts, brushing a wave of auburn hair off his forehead. “Ashley’s out there collecting admirers like flies to honey. You’re here watching like a creep.”

I glance across the ballroom. Ashley twirls in the center of attention, dazzling in diamonds and a smug smile. Her beauty draws eyes. Her charm hooks them.

I hate it. And I’m fascinated.

Just like I was fascinated the first day I saw her fucking her boyfriend, Danny.

His cock was inside her. I could hear the sounds as his hard cock collided with her pussy. The way he pinched her nipples. Sucked them. I watched through a crack in her door. Heard her moans.

‘Danny don’t stop... Please...Ahh...’ Her soft cries that night still ring in my ears. My pussy coils with sweetness as I recall that night.

They were naked. Danny’s tight butt dipped as he pressed into her.

‘Ashley...Fuck... You’re so sweet...’ Danny’s voice. Her moans.

“She’s always been the star,” I murmur.

“Yeah, and you’re the lighting technician in the booth,” Jon says dryly. “You ever consider maybe you just don’t have the sex appeal?”

My glare could incinerate him. But he’s not wrong. I’m all freckles, thick brows, wild hair. I feel like a glitch in a family of curated perfection. And I hate that I care.

Then, the room stills.

The door opens. A ripple of murmurs. People part like the Red Sea.

They’ve arrived.

The Ripples.

Helia and Hulio Ripples. The infamous, 30 year old wonder twins. Wealth. Power. Danger in designer suits.

“Speak of the devils,” Jon mutters beside me. His voice dips. “Is that envy I hear, Jon?” I tease, not looking at him.

“Pfft. Envy?” He scoffs. “I just don’t get the hype. So they’re rich, freakishly good-looking, and supposedly descended from some European royal house. Big deal.” He pauses. “Okay, maybe a little jealous.”

But I’m not listening anymore.

Because he is here.

Hulio Ripples.

He doesn’t walk, he glides. Like the room is beneath him. Like the air bends around him. Like the world belongs to him. Jet black hair, water-colored eyes that see right through you. I remember him from a month ago—Jon’s sister’s wedding. I saw him through a crack behind a potted plant. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink.

And now, he’s here.

I take a step forward. Another. But something tugs at my dress. I twist, and the sound is sharp, brutal.

RIP!

Then, I fall.

Face first. Dress torn. Wine glass clatters.

“Alexa, watch out!” Jon shouts behind me.

Too late.

Silence. All eyes swing to me. To the girl who just crashed a high-society Christmas party face-first into marble.

But only one pair of eyes matters.

And they’re on me.