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Crumbs and Cake
Last Updated:
2025-07-18 04:12:26
Latest chapter
The Billionaire's Brat Glitter, Lotion and Grease
NovaI woke up to sunlight stabbing through the blinds like it was angry with me. My whole body felt tangled and stiff, like I had slept inside a knot. My mouth was dry. My eyes burned. I blinked up at the ceiling, trying to piece together where I was. Then it all came back. The cake. The gasps. Genevieve’s smug little face. My father’s voice. My heart sank all over again.I reached over for my phone on the nightstand. The screen was too bright but I looked anyway. The time made my stomach flip. I had class in one hour.“Shit.”I groaned, tossing the covers off me. My legs felt heavy as I dragged myself into the bathroom. I didn’t even bother to look at my face in the mirror. I just brushed my teeth like a zombie and splashed cold water on my skin until I felt halfway alive again. I stood under the shower longer than I should have. The hot water helped clear my head a little. Not much. Just a little.After toweling off, I walked back into my room, still wrapped in the towel, hair drip
The Billionaire's Brat Crumbs and Cake
Nova’s PovI walked back inside with Jace, my hand on his arm. I was laughing at something he said, probably a joke about one of the guests. It felt good to laugh, especially here, surrounded by people I didn’t care about. For a moment, I almost felt like I belonged. Almost.Jace was talking about something funny, his voice light and easy, but then a cold, sharp presence hit me. It was like the air got heavier. I knew before I even looked who it was.Genevieve.She swooped in, slipping between us like a shadow. Her smile was tight, but her grip on Jace’s arm was firm, pulling him away from me. She muttered something about not getting motorcycle grease all over him, her voice too sweet and too fake.Jace didn’t even blink. He went with her without a fight, leaving me standing there, feeling like an outsider all over again. My stomach tightened, and the laughter in my throat died.It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like I came here to have fun anyway. I just wanted to survive the night.Jonath
The Billionaire's Brat The Man on the Balcony
NovaThe music inside the ballroom was low and fancy like something from a period drama. Laughter floated in the air like perfume and the clinking of champagne glasses made it feel like everyone was celebrating something more important than a birthday. The walls sparkled with golden lights and expensive decorations and everyone looked like they had been dipped in money. I didn’t belong there and I knew it. I felt like a well-dressed outsider watching the movie of someone else's perfect life.I slipped out to the balcony to breathe. The cold air hit me the moment I stepped outside and it was honestly a relief. I leaned on the railing with one hand, my champagne glass in the other, staring down at the gardens below. The air smelled like roses and winter. My heels were already hurting my feet but I didn’t take them off yet. Not here. Not yet.My thoughts started spinning again. I still hadn’t seen Jace and that was weird. He had probably been pulled away by his mom who acted like she was
The Billionaire's Brat The Girl in Red
RomanThe car pulled up in front of the hotel just as the sun slipped beneath the skyline. Tall marble columns framed the entrance and warm golden light spilled out from the wide glass doors. The valet opened my door and I stepped out, smoothing my suit jacket as I looked up at the building. Elegant, old money, the kind of place Jonathan would pick without thinking twice.Inside, the lobby had been transformed. Chandeliers hung like frozen waterfalls from the ceiling, casting light across the polished floors. Staff in crisp uniforms moved through the crowd with trays of champagne and finger food. The guests were already deep in conversation. Expensive dresses. Perfect hair. Laughter that sounded like rehearsed music.I walked in with steady steps, familiar with this world but never quite a part of it. Heads turned, some faces lit up with recognition. A few people nodded my way and I returned the gesture. I wasn’t in the mood for small talk.“Roman,” a voice called out.I turned and sa
The Billionaire's Brat Silk, Screens, and a Black Car Ride
NovaI knew today was going to be a lot the second I opened my eyes and saw twelve missed calls. Twelve. From one man. My father.I sat up slowly on my bed, my blanket half-draped over one leg and my bonnet halfway off my head. I rubbed the crust from the corner of my eye with one hand while the other scrolled through the endless call list. First one at eight thirty in the morning. Then nine fifteen. Then nine thirty-two. Then back-to-back missed calls like he thought I had fainted on my way to pick up the phone.I didn’t even bother listening to the voicemails. I already knew what they said. Something like "Pumpkin don’t be late" or "This party is important" or "Please try to dress appropriately for once." My dad had a whole playlist of passive-aggressive messages and he played it on loop every time there was a party with important people.I dropped the phone on the bed and groaned into my hands. But I got up anyway.After dragging myself into the shower and letting the water steam a
The Billionaire's Brat Ghosts and Glass Screens
NovaThe café smelled like burnt espresso and lemon floor cleaner. The last customer had left half an hour ago, but I was still there wiping down counters that didn’t really need wiping. It was easier than going home. Easier than sitting alone in my apartment with my thoughts pressing down like bricks on my chest.The lights buzzed softly overhead as I stacked the last of the chairs. The register clicked shut after I counted my tips for the night. Not terrible, not great. Enough to cover groceries and maybe a new sketchbook. I tossed the cleaning rag into the hamper behind the counter and sighed, rolling my shoulders to ease the ache.Then came the knock.It was soft at first. Just one knock. Then two more.I froze.Greg had already left. I was supposed to be alone.I glanced at the clock above the espresso machine. Almost eleven. Nobody sane came knocking on coffee shop doors that late.Slowly, I stepped toward the front, wiping my hands on my apron. The door was locked and the front
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