VENGEANCE IN HIS BED

The rising sun made the grey stone look colder in the vale estate. I woke up at 7:00 AM, my heart already racing before my eyes even opened. For a split second, I forgot where I was. Then, the smell hit me, expensive floor wax and the faint, bitter scent of old paper. I wasn't in our cramped, one-bedroom apartment with the leaky faucet anymore. I was in the sub-level of a fortress.Beside me, Leo was still dead to the world, his small arm flung over his head. I reached out and brushed a stray curl from his forehead. A lump forming in my throat, he looked so much like Sarah when he slept. Every time I felt a flicker of fear, I just thought of him, he was my armor. "Claire?" Leo’s voice was tiny, thick with sleep. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, looking around the small, windowless room with confusion. "Are we staying here now?""Just for a little while, baby," I said, forcing a smile I didn't feel. "Remember the rules? We have to be very, very quiet, like we’re playing hide-and-seek.

I reached for my phone on the nightstand, the screen’s harsh glare cutting through the darkness like a blade. 5:14 AM.I let out a long, shaky breath, knowing sleep was a lost cause. My skin still felt sensitized, the phantom weight of Ethan’s hands from the dream making the silk of my nightgown feel like sandpaper.I began to scroll aimlessly, the blue light reflecting in my eyes. My contact list was a graveyard, so I wasn’t looking for anything in particular. After Sarah died, I had systematically cauterized my social life, cutting off anyone who reminded me of the girl I used to be before I became a woman fueled by ranger and consumed by anger. Depression had made me a ghost, and I’d let the world forget me. Only Emerald, my closest friend remained. I stared at her name in my recent messages. She’d sent three texts yesterday, all variations of “Where the hell are you?” and “Call me, Claire, I’m worried.” I didn't reply, not that I could. Emerald was loud, bright, and dangerously p

ETHAN’S POVThe sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my study felt like an interrogation. I stepped into the room, my head thumping with the rhythmic remains of the scotch, but it wasn’t the hangover that made me feel disorganized. It was the air that still smelled like her, that maddening scent of vanilla and defiance.I moved frantically, my usual composure stripped away. "Where is it?" I hissed to the empty room, tossing papers aside on my desk.The locket was the only piece of sanity I had left. I knew I had it yesterday, I remembered the cold silver against my palm before I went to check on the boy. I must have misplaced it here. I searched the drawers, the mahogany surface, even the floor, my heart hammering a rhythm of pure desperation. Without that silver heart, the ghosts of the past felt ready to swallow me whole.My eyes snagged on the edge of the desk, the exact spot where I had pinned her.The memory hit me with the force of a physical blow. I could

The morning light felt like a physical assault, I woke up with the phantom weight of what had happened last night. Every muscle in my body ached with the memory of him, the way he had claimed me in the back of that limousine as if I were something he owned and how I had touched myself wishing it was him instead. I looked at the midnight-blue dress slumped in the corner. Last night, it had felt like a dream, now, it looked like a shroud.To him, it was just sex. A physical release and a billionaire taking his due.I walked to the bathroom and stared at my reflection in the steamed-up mirror. My lips were slightly swollen, and a faint mark on my collarbone stood out like a brand. I touched it, a jagged spark of shame warring with the lingering, traitorous hum in my blood."Of course it was just sex," I whispered to the steam. "Nothing more."But as I watched a droplet of water trail down the glass, a cold, hard clarity began to settle in my chest. If he wanted me to be a toy, I would b

Mr Vale finally shifted his gaze, his eyes sliding down to meet mine. But he didn’t jerk away or offer a shred of guilt, he simply watched me with a icy calm detachment and indifference, his fingers still woven through the blonde’s hair as if he were merely petting a hound.The woman slowed her rhythm, sensing the shift in the room, and pulled back. A thin, glistening thread of saliva stretched from her painted lips before she turned her head to stare at me. Her eyes were sharp, feline, and filled with a mocking curiosity as she took in my disheveled hair and the heavy, exposed swell of my chest.Mortification, hot and stinging, flooded my cheeks. I realized I was standing there like a gaping fool, my mission forgotten and my trap laid bare before the very man I thought I had played. I scrambled to the floor, my hands shaking so violently I could barely grip the edges of the files. I gathered the scattered papers in a chaotic, humiliated heap, not daring to look at the desk or the man