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Ruthless Hearts
Ruthless Hearts
Author: Zeenoh

CHAPTER 1

Author: Zeenoh
last update Last Updated: 2025-06-29 02:23:24

LANI GREY

They say the rich don’t see you unless you’re in their way— or stealing from their pockets.

I knew this better than anyone.

But one thing I also knew was how to slip past completely unnoticed. 

The man didn’t even flinch when I slipped my fingers into his coat pocket. He was too busy shouting at the vendor over a scratched Rolex he probably didn’t pay full price for. 

“Pickpocketing at a black market bazaar,” my best friend Victor whispered behind me, his voice low and smug. “Very classy.”

I fished out the man’s wallet with a smirk and slipped it into the inside pocket of my tattered jacket. “It’s not stealing if they’re crooks too. I am just redistributing wealth, one greedy bastard at a time.”

Victor chuckled, his breath clouding in the cold night air. “Robin Hood with dirty sneakers. Your brand is so consistent.”

We moved through the crowd, weaving past crates of fake designer bags, illegal tech, and things that buzzed and blinked but probably shouldn’t. The black market Bazaar was a monthly occurrence that was tucked beneath the old highway overpass, where cops turned blind eyes to practically everything and desperate people made deals in the shadows. It was a good place to disappear— and an even better place to get rich off someone else’s carelessness.

“How much was in it?” Victor asked, nodding at the stolen wallet.

I flipped it open. “Ten in cash. A card that I definitely can’t use. A photo of his wife and mistress in the same slot. That’s talent.”

Victor cackled. “Do you ever think of going legit?”

I raised an eyebrow. “And do what? Sell my soul to those evil elites for under minimum wage and a company badge?”

“No,” he said, still grinning. “I meant a career in comedy.”

I laughed despite myself. It was always so easy to laugh with Victor. He was sharp, fast-talking, and never stayed serious long enough to drown. And that was why he was my bestfriend. Victor and I met in kindergarten, and we used to beat eachother up all the time, but now that we were older and he was much stronger than me, I tried to avoid even playful fights with him. Victor was an orphan, and he had gotten lucky and found a job at a construction site eight months ago. It didn’t change anything between us. It did mean that he stopped picking pockets with me, but I didn’t really mind. 

We reached the edge of the bazaar where the alley met the street, the very frustrating sounds of sellers and buyers faded into the night wind. Neon signs flickered above us. The hum of city life never really stopped, not in our dusty old part of Manhattan.

“You headed home?” Victor asked, hands shoved deep in his coat pockets.

I nodded. “Yeah. I have to help Ma with chores. And I also have to see if the old man’s still breathing.”

“You want company?”

“Not unless you’re bringing dinner.”

He held up a half-eaten meat bun from one of the vendors. “Already halfway there.”

I rolled my eyes but took a bite. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Victor saluted with a grin. “Try not to separate any more wallets from their owners. And tell Aria that her last sketch of me was wildly inaccurate. I do not have a big nose.”

“You’re delusional,” I called as I crossed the street.

“Goodnight, Lani Grey.”

“Don’t get robbed, Vic.”

“Seeing as you’re going in the opposite direction, I think I’ll be just fine.” He fired back.

He was gone by the time I turned the corner.

The walk home was only eight blocks, but it felt longer every time. The streets grew darker. The buildings got more broken as I walked. By the time I reached our crumbling apartment complex, the buzz of the city felt like a distant dream someone else was having.

Our unit was on the fourth floor. The elevator hadn’t worked since last winter.

I unlocked the door with a soft click and stepped into the dim, two-bedroom apartment that held four lives and not nearly enough space for any of us.

It didn’t look like mom was home yet, so I quickly got started on my chores.

I crouched by the grimy sink in my family’s two-bedroom apartment on the edge of town, scrubbing dried wax out of a cracked candle jar that we used as a water cup. I didn’t know why I tried, the wax was going nowhere. The faucet behind me groaned like it had arthritis, coughing up almost brown colored water with a metallic taste. It didn’t matter. It was all we had.

“I’m home,” my mother called from the door. “And I brought bread.”

I stood, wiping my hands on the hem of my jacket. My stomach tightened— not from hunger, but from the guilt that always came with watching my mother shuffle in through the door after working a twelve hour shift scrubbing marble floors and polishing gold doorknobs in places she’d never be welcome as a guest. And for what? A couple pennies.

“Hey, Mom.” I took the plastic bag from her. It was a single loaf and a few bruised apples.

My mother smiled tiredly, sinking into the nearest chair. The lines on her face looked deeper now. Her once dark hair was streaked with gray, tied back in a knot like she hadn’t had the energy to style it in years. Maybe she hadn’t.

“Wasn’t enough left over for milk,” she murmured, getting up again and immediately moving to the stove. She was going to reheat the same stew we had been eating for three days in a row now. It didn’t smell good, and it didn’t taste like anything, but we would force it down regardless. 

I tore the bread in half. “We’ll make it work.”

Across the apartment, my sister, Aria, leaned against the windowsill, quietly sewing. She was the quiet one, the productive one. She worked as an assistant for a seamstress outside of town, and even though she got paid next to nothing, Aria was very talented in so many ways— an artist stuck in a world that had no space for dreams. I caught mom’s eyes flickering to her for a moment, a sad smile on her lips. She never looked at me like that, and I understood why. Aria and I were different. I was just a petty thief. Aria on the other hand was going to be something… something great. Aria was going to save this family. 

My eyes flicked to the farthest room. My father’s door was closed, as usual. The only signs that he was still breathing were the occasional groans and the stink of cheap whiskey that leaked through the crack under the door.

Once, he’d been a giant to me. Clean clothes. Quick laughter. A firm hand always on my shoulder. Then one day, all of it just stopped. My mother said it was only a phase because he had been laid off at the cheap office job he worked. That was 12 years ago. I didn’t know much, but it definitely wasn’t a phase. Whatever it was, it had left my father hollowed out. The man who used to walk tall now stumbled from one corner of the apartment to the other, drinking to forget whatever he refused to tell us.

I hated it.

I hated the silence. I hated the invisible walls in our home. But mostly, I hated that there was nothing I could do to fix it. 

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  • Ruthless Hearts   CHAPTER 8

    The Caldwell family had three sitting rooms.And right now, none of them felt safe.I sat stiffly in the center of the smallest one—“the red room,” they called it, because of the floor-to-ceiling velvet curtains. Dean stood near the window, still, silent and arms folded across his chest.Mason was slouched in one of the armchairs, pretending to scroll through his phone, but his knee bounced constantly. Nervous energy leaked from him in every direction.Evelyn sat opposite Lani, spine straight, legs crossed, with her gloved hands folded in her lap like she was waiting to be handed a sword and the legal right to use it.And then there was the man just entering the room.Richard Caldwell.He didn’t look like a billionaire or a media mogul. He didn’t look like the man who held half the country’s newsrooms in his pocket and the other half in court. No, Richard looked like someone who had outgrown the need to prove anything. Trim suit, pale eyes, salt-and-pepper beard so cleanly trimmed it

  • Ruthless Hearts   CHAPTER 7

    “Get a move on girls!” Ms. Blue yelled in the kitchen.Beads of sweat had started pooling on my forehead and brows, and my legs felt like they would give out soon. I’d only been working for the Caldwells for a few days, but I already wanted out. Today was the engagement party of Dean Caldwell and his dethroned, Lynette Sinclair— the tall blonde Barbie bombshell who was the heir to the Sinclair dynasty. I didn’t know much about her, but I’d seen her in the tabloids once or twice before. She was built like a model, and was popularly referred to as ‘the people’s princess’. I already hated her.I swallowed as I walked through the crowd with yet another tray of champagne flutes. Who knew you needed so many people for a simple engagement party? And the amount of press was just something else.The influential guests collected and returned champagne flutes from and to my tray without looking at me. They never said ‘thank you’ and they definitely never acknowledged the help. That was one t

  • Ruthless Hearts   CHAPTER 6

    The tray in my hands didn’t tremble, but my knuckles were white around the handles.The Caldwells’ garden looked like it came straight out of a catalog. White parasols bloomed above a crystal-clear table where Evelyn Caldwell sat with three other women who all looked and smelled like money. Not perfume— just money. The breeze rustled the linen napkins like even nature knew it should behave here.I stepped toward the table, making sure to keep my posture straight, and my eyes low.“Oh,” one of the women murmured when she noticed me. “You’re letting the new one handle the good china?”Another gave a whispery laugh. “She’s a brave one.”Evelyn didn’t smile, but her lips curved ever so slightly. “Confidence often comes with inexperience.”I kept my voice calm, not really understanding what they were talking about anyway. “Would anyone care for fresh mint tea or lemon spritz?”“Spritz, please,” the senator’s wife said with a manicured wave, not looking at her.As I poured, I caught Mrs Cal

  • Ruthless Hearts   CHAPTER 5

    I followed blindly behind another maid who’d been instructed to teach me everything I needed to know. She led me through a kitchen that looked like it was larger than my entire house. “Whoa,” I stopped and opened my mouth in awe. “Keep walking.” The maid in front of me snapped.I turned around so fast that I almost tripped and fell over. The kitchen had two other doors. One that looked like it led to the back of the house. The second door opened to reveal a guard standing at the top of the stairs that must lead to a basement area. I watched in confusion as he quickly patted the maid up and down before doing the same to me.“Why did he search us?” I asked, deciding that I was tired of her silence. “Mrs Caldwell is very particular about the searches. It’s to make sure we’re not taking anything into the quarters that shouldn’t be there.”“Hmm,” I mused.“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. My name is Hannah by the way, but we mostly go by last names, so call me Morgan.”Hannah Morgan

  • Ruthless Hearts   CHAPTER 4

    The street lights flickered above me like dying stars as I ran, arms pumping, heart pounding against the weight in my chest. The town was a blur of shadows and cold wind, but I didn’t slow down. I didn’t have a destination. I just needed to move— needed to get away from the suffocating guilt clawing through me.I couldn’t even bear to picture the look on my mother’s face when I brought Aria home. My father had been shocked too, even in his perpetual drunken state. Victor was going to die because of me.Aria’s hand— her gift, her future— was crushed because I couldn’t even do a damn thing right.And all I had to show for my clever little plan was a few blood stained bills and a broken family.The air sliced down my throat with every breath, but I couldn’t stop. My legs burned, my lungs screamed, but I ignored everything. I ran past dark storefronts and shuttered windows, past sleeping houses and the far off sound of sirens. My sneakers slapped against pavement soaked with last night’s

  • Ruthless Hearts   CHAPTER 3

    “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” My sister grumbled for the thousandth time since we left home that evening.“Yes Aria, I heard you when you said it the moment you got out of bed this morning, I heard you when you were putting your shoes on, I heard you at the bus stop and on the bus too. But you’re serving there, you have a pass. All you have to do is just help me get in and I’ll do the rest.”“The guards aren’t stupid, Lani. If they catch us—”“They won’t.”“You don’t even have a plan!”“I always have a plan,” I lied.I definitely did not have a plan, but I couldn’t let Aria’s words deter me. The Caldwell estate glowed like a city trapped in a snow globe— too bright, too perfect, and entirely untouchable. I stared in awe, and I was pretty sure my jaw was on the floor. The wide double doors were open and slow music drifted through them like perfume. Cars stopped right in front of the doors, releasing men and women dressed in clothes that probably cost more than my enti

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