LOGINPOV: Jeffery Jeffery stood on that stupid stage with lights blinding him from every side. Cameras flashed like crazy, clicking nonstop. His stomach twisted tight. The stripping video still played in his head and probably everyone else’s too. He felt naked all over again, even in this button-up shirt Roland picked out. Whispers rippled through the crowd right away. “Look at him. Total mess.” “Roland Hayes deserves way better.” “He’s just riding the fame train.” Jeffery’s face burned hot. Humiliation hit him like a slap. He wanted to bolt, jump off the stage and run until his legs gave out. His hands shook at his sides. Why did he agree to this? Fake couple stuff for the sponsors. All eyes on him like he was some joke. Then Roland’s hand slid into his. Warm. Steady. He squeezed gently, thumb brushing over Jeffery’s knuckles. Jeffery glanced over quickly. Roland’s jaw was set, eyes fierce and protective like he was ready to fight the whole room. “Let me handle this,” Rolan
POV: JefferyJeffery sat in the cold conference room, hands trembling under the table. The AC blew freezing air across his neck while his face burned hot. Roland sat right across from him, face blank like a stranger. No smirk, no anger, just nothing. The three sponsors stood at the head like they owned the world and Jeffery had just trashed it. One guy in a sharp black suit slammed a tablet down so hard the sound cracked through the room."Look at this,” the sponsor barked. “Videos of you half-naked, shoving people, drunk off your face. It’s everywhere. Twitter, TikTok, Instagram. Comments are calling you a mess. This is unacceptable. You’re dragging our brand through the mud.” Jeffery’s stomach twisted hard. He wanted to explain the fight with Roland, the stupid call that started everything, how one thing snowballed into that basement nightmare. His mouth opened but the words got stuck. Heart pounding, throat tight, he just sat there frozen.Before he could get anything out, Roland
POV: JefferyJeffery woke up with a pounding headache that felt like someone was hammering nails into his skull. His mouth tasted like old socks and bad decisions. He groaned loudly, pressing both palms against his temples. The room spun a little when he tried to sit up. Sunlight stabbed through the curtains in his apartment. Morning already. How did he even get here?He cracked his eyes open. Anna, Maxwell, and Chloe stood right in front of his bed, arms crossed. Their faces mixed worry with that annoyed look friends get when you screw up big. Anna looked soft but tired. Maxwell had his jaw tight. Chloe just raised one eyebrow as if she was waiting for answers.Jeffery blinked hard and looked around. Yep, his own apartment. His own messy bed with the same blue sheets. No idea how he ended up back here. Last thing he remembered was the bar. Then... nothing clear.“What happened?” he croaked, his voice rough like sandpaper.Anna stepped forward first and handed him a mug of coffee. The
Roland’s POVRoland and Anna burst out of the bar chasing Jeffery. The cool night air slapped their faces as they followed him down the street. He was stumbling fast for a drunk guy, keys still in his hand. They lost him for a minute near the old warehouses but spotted a crowd up ahead. Loud music thumped from an abandoned house with a half-broken basement door. People were spilling out, laughing and shouting. This was bad.They pushed through the crowd. The basement smelled like mould, cheap beer, and sweat. Dim string lights hung from cracked ceilings. Someone had turned the place into a wild pop-up party. In the middle, on a rickety old table being used as a stage, stood Jeffery. Shirt already off, tossed somewhere. He was fumbling with his belt, pants low on his hips. About to drop his boxers right there in front of everyone.“Jeffery!” Anna yelled, shoving past some laughing guys with phones out.Roland’s stomach flipped. “What the hell, man?”Anna didn’t wait. She jumped up on t
Roland’s POVRoland burst out of the alley like the devil was right behind him. His heart pounding so hard it felt like it might break his ribs. That message still echoed in his mind, every word like a slap. He had to find Jeffery. Right now.He sprinted down the sidewalk, sneakers slapping puddles, cold water splashing up his jeans. Streetlights streaked past. A couple walking their dog jumped out of his way. “Sorry!” he shouted without slowing down. His breath came in ragged gasps. Every turn he took, he hoped to see his friend. But nothing. Just empty streets and the hum of the city at night.Up ahead, under a flickering lamp, he saw her. Anna. Jeffery’s best friend, standing there with her phone glued to her ear. Her face looked ghost-pale, eyes darting everywhere. Roland gave one last push and slid to a stop right in front of her, chest heaving.“Anna! Have you seen Jeffery anywhere?”She dropped the phone from her ear, staring at him like he’d appeared out of nowhere. “Roland? N
Roland’s POVI stood in the middle of my penthouse, the silence pressing in from all sides. Jeffery was gone. He stormed out after our fight, and I just let him. Didn’t chase him. Didn’t say the right thing. Just stood there like an idiot watching the door slam. The quiet felt heavy now. Too heavy. My chest hurt bad, like something was squeezing it.“Good riddance,” I muttered to myself, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t need him. I don’t need anyone.” The words sounded fake even as I said them. I walked to the kitchen and poured a drink. Whiskey. Downed it in one gulp. The burn went down my throat but did nothing to numb the ache in my chest. I poured another. Then another. The alcohol blurred my vision a little, but it didn’t erase the image of Jeffery’s face. The hurt in his eyes. The tears. The way he looked at me like I broke him.I slammed the glass down on the counter. It almost cracked. “I’m heartless,” I said to my reflection in the dark window. “I’m a player. I don’t
JEFFERY'S POVI pushed open the door to Roland's penthouse, my legs feeling like wet noodles after the trip to the manor. The city lights glowed soft through the big windows, painting everything in blues and oranges, but it didn't calm the storm in my chest. My hands wouldn't stop shaking. Lucien's
My fist hit the locker door before I could stop myself. The loud thud echoed down the empty hallway like a gunshot, bouncing off the concrete walls and metal benches. My fists stung immediately, but I barely felt it. The anger was too loud inside my head. "You think this is a game?" I snapped, tur
I stood frozen in the dim concrete hallway, my back pressed against the cold wall like it could somehow save me. The silence pressed down, thick and heavy. My pulse hammered so fiercely I could feel it in my teeth. Every part of me screamed to run, but my legs refused to move. Roland did not rush.
I hated every second of this new life. I hated waking up early for interviews I did not care about. I hated people staring at me everywhere I went like I belonged to them now. I hated the cameras outside Northcrest Academy and the way students suddenly moved aside whenever I walked past. Most of







