SKYLA’S POV
The trip to California was one long, exhausting trip, with almost everyone and everything getting on my nerves. If there was anything that I was grateful for? It was that almost everyone minded their business, and they weren’t all up in mine. Which meant no prying eyes, no unnecessary conversations. Just me and my thoughts. I was currently in the back of one of the local taxis headed to my mom’s bakery, the rickety car jolting me every now and then as the man blasted country music from his run-down radio. A song I never thought I would hear again played loudly through the static radio, about a love that was never meant to be, a love scorned by society. And just like that, my mind drifted to Xavier and the events that had led to the end of our relationship. Cliché? Maybe, but that was the truth. “Here we are,” the driver called out, his southeEDDIE [ED]I used to believe in lines – clean ones, drawn in either black or white. The kind of lines you didn’t cross, because doing so meant loosing something. Yourself, usually. Your integrity. Your soul But lately, everything’s been smeared in grey.All the lines have gotten tangled – some blurred, and they were no longer in black or white. A little bit of red had wormed it’s way through.Especially the contract. Skyla's contract with Xavier. The one I had made her sign.I stared at it again, the printed text lying heavily on Charlie’s desk under the flicker of his desk lamp. I’d gotten a copy through someone who owed me a favour – an old friend from law school with a knack for cooperate loopholes. I wasn’t proud of the method, but pride wasn’t a luxury I could afford anymore. Not when Skyla was entangled with something this twisted.And now that she no longer lived with me, I feared for her safety – I could no longer pro
SKYLAThe elevator ride to Xavier’s penthouse was too quiet.I hadn’t planned on seeing him tonight – not after the emotional chaos of the day, not after what i had found in the files about my old house. Not after hearing my father’s voice echo in my head again and again like a cracked lullaby, not when I wasn’t sure about his stance – if he wanted to fight for me or not. Even at that, some sick exhausted part of me wanted answers, and he was the only person left who might have answers. Or maybe I just needed to see him. Needed to look him in the eye and demand something real for once.The doors slid open with a soft chime, and I stepped out onto the marbled floor. His place was dark, except for the glow of the fireplace in the corner, flickering against glass like stone. The city stretched out behind him, endless windows framing towers of steel and light. He was standing there, drink in hand, his jacket thrown carelessly over a chair, sleeves rol
SKYLAI didn’t remember falling asleep, only waking up – cold, stiff, curled on the bathroom floor like a forgotten secret.The cold tile pressed against my cheek, and for a moment, I lay there, listening to the world moving on around me. Listening to the hum of the world outside the apartment. The angry horns of distant cars. A dog barking three floors down. The heating system groaning in the walls. All of it sounded foreign. Like I was underwater, trying to reach the surface, but my limbs were too heavy to swim.I sat up slowly, the still night pressing in on me, thick and cold, like the inside of a locked box. I sat on the bathroom floor, my knees drawn up to my chest, my back against the vanity. The ring box rested in my lap, unopened – again. It had become something of a ritual. I’d stare at it, trace its edges with my fingers, wonder what kind of trap it was. Then I’d put it back in the drawer and pretend I wasn’t afraid of it.But ton
Xavier There’s a distinct silence in the house at night. It’s not peace. It’s the kind of silence that listens – one that gives you the creeps – the kind of silence that makes you feel like you’re drowning into a world of endless abyss. The kind of silence that waits. Like the walls remembers every whispered threat, every cruel dismissal, every broken promise too heavy to fade.That was the kind of silence I grew up in.Now, standing outside my father’s office, I feel it again – coiled around the doorknob like a silent threat, a warning. I don’t knock. Instead, I walked in, taking slow steps at a time.Carl didn’t look up. He sits behind his desk, polishing a glass of whiskey like it’s a trophy. The screen behind him still displays footage from his press conference – the same signature smirk, the same well-defined lies that he spawned for the public display echoes like a background noise.My jaw tightens at the wide smile splayed across his face
SKYLAThe incident of the charity event still played vividly at the back of my mind like a broken cassette, the smug look on Tanya’s face dredged itself deep into my soul. Taunting. Mocking.Even Carl’s announcement rolled at the back of my head every now and then, reminding me that I had a whole lot ahead of me, and there was no way I was going to come out of this unscathed – burnt into ash.I hurried along the now too familiar hallway, anger tickling my nerves as I navigated through the busy employees to Charlie’s office on the first floor. “You’re fifteen minutes late, Ms. Jefferson,” Charlie’s voice boomed immediately. I entered into his office, the stark white painting throwing me off balance for a brief second.“It’s only your first day of work. That’s a bad record to set, is it not?” He asked stiffly, his eyes glued in me the entire time.“I... I’m sorry it won’t happen again,” I stuttered, faltering under his stern gaze.
XAVIERIt took quite a moment before Steve finally spoke, his voice calm. Calculating. Cautious. Like he was schooling a kindergartener.“He’s playing you, Xavier. Just like he’s been playing all of us. Just like he played you. Me. My mom. Your mom. And every other person tangled in his web. You think you’re in control, but you’re not. And you don’t even see it. You’re too busy trying to keep up with him, trying so hard to earn his approval that you do not notice the hold he has on you.” His words hit me like a slap to the face, but he wasn’t done. “ He doesn’t care about you, man. He never has. He never would. At least, not in the way you think. He only cares about his damned legacy.”The sting of his words was sharper than I expected. It wasn’t just the fact that Steve was calling was calling me out on my blind loyalty; it was the fact that he was right. The realization hit me hard, but what really twisted the knife was that Steve was looking at me – l