บททั้งหมดของ After One Night With My Sister’s Prized Possession : บทที่ 91 - บทที่ 100

“You’re crying over pastry now?” she asked lightly, teasing enough to cut through Jade’s defenses. “I don’t want us to keep hurting each other,” Jade said, voice small but insistent. Scarlett dabbed her fingers, wiped the icing, repeated softly, “Hurting…?” “I don’t want us to keep… like this,” Jade rushed, the words tumbling out. “We were terrible at being sisters, yes—but we could try again. I’m sorry about the pool. I wasn’t trying to embarrass you. I was trying to protect you.” Scarlett’s eyes sharpened, almost imperceptibly. “Protect me… from what?” Jade’s fingers curled into the blanket. Her stomach tightened. “…From Kain?” Scarlett’s voice lowered, deliberate, the name hanging in the air. Her chest throbbed at the sound. The forbidden pulse of it. “I’m leaving soon.” “To where?” Scarlett’s lips quirked with amusement, as if measuring her carefully. “Iceland,” Jade whispered. A pause. Then a soft, sardonic laugh. “Well… that’s efficient if you’d ask me.” Jade reached

I was seventeen. The lights of the new academy were too bright, thick with the scent of perfume and secrets, bleeding into a headache that wouldn't quit. I existed in a haze of white powder in my veins, the friction of skin against skin and the warmth of girls whose names I forgot before they’d even dressed. That meant absolutely nothing. When my father slammed his fist onto his mahogany desk, demanding I quit the band, I felt the familiar burn of gasoline in my throat. I didn't flinch. I laughed. It was a jagged, ugly sound. "Music is a distraction, Kain," he growled. "No," I barked back, my voice echoing off the sterile walls. "The band isn't the problem. You want me to quit because you can’t stand that I’m seeing the truth. I’m doing this because of Madeline. I’m doing this because you’re a liar and she’s your little secret." “Kain—“ "You want me to be the perfect heir?" I spat, the adrenaline hitting harder than any pill. "Maybe I’m just following your lead, Dad. Aft

Opening of PART 2: Sometimes you have to take control of your destiny… even when it terrifies you. Even when your hands are shaking. Because if you don’t, no one will. And Kain has never been the kind of man who waits for fate to make the first move. He runs because it’s easier than sitting still. The gym in his house is all steel and glass. Floor-to-ceiling windows stare out at a sleeping city. Quiet. Except for the treadmill and the faint bass of whatever playlist is pounding through his AirPods, syncing with the rhythm of his rubber shoes. Thud. Thud. Thud. He’s shirtless tonight. Just black compression shorts riding low on his hips. Sweat maps his chest, tracing the lines of muscle down his stomach. His body isn’t built for show — it’s built from habit. Discipline. Control. Broad shoulders. Strong thighs. The kind of strength that looks permanent. Hard-earned muscle, hair damp and pushed back carelessly. His jaw is tight. Shoulders locked. Like if he runs hard enou

“Don’t like it? Take it back.” She takes it. Hands shaking. The money exchanges, but the bracelet… feels off. Panic flares. The seller starts ushering her out. Outside, the sky is pale, breaking into day as she slips off her hoodie, shoulders tense. Everything hurts like fire. Was she going to make it? She swallows hard, climbs into a cab, and drives back to Kain’s penthouse. She unlocks the door and steps inside. And stops and mutters a little…no. The penthouse is glowing. Soft lights. Subtle decorations. The table set with food she didn’t ask for but knows he chose. Two house helps hovering nearby arranging other things. Her suitcases lined neatly by the wall, ready. Waiting. For her flight. Her chest tightens. He did all this for her. She swallows. She’s not leaving. The truth settles heavy in her stomach. The pawn shop. The money. The debt. The bracelet. She can’t leave. Her eyes met his who was moving towards her. She turns slightly, already retreating. “Ja

Her palms turn damp. There it is. Her past. She knew it wouldn’t stay buried. The manager clears his throat. “A smile would be appropriate.” They comply. Barely. At least her assigned team offers hesitant waves. “Hi,” one of them says gently. It steadies her enough to sit down. She lowers herself into the leather chair. And freezes. There’s a breakfast package waiting on her desk. Neatly wrapped. Expensive branding. A small folded card rests on top. You skipped breakfast :) — KW Her heart slams against her ribs so hard she thinks someone might hear it. No. He wouldn’t. Before she can grab it, a girl with bright copper braids and sharp eyeliner snatches the card from her hand. “Oooooh,” she sings. “Who is KW?” Heads turn instantly. “I don’t know,” Jade says too quickly. “It’s not mine.” Mocha—because that has to be her name—tilts her head. “Really? Because it’s sitting on your desk.” Someone lifts one of the cups. Tiny red hearts are printed around the rim. I