บททั้งหมดของ Only His On Paper: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

It had been raining all day. Not the kind of rain that washed anything clean, just cold, relentless sheets that sank straight through your coat and into your bones. The whole city felt heavy. Like it was mourning something I couldn’t name. Maybe me.My shoes made that awful wet squelch as I pushed through the hospital’s revolving doors. The fluorescent lights inside hit me like a slap. I didn’t bother shaking off the water. What was the point? I’d been soaked for days, by rain, by worry, by everything I couldn’t fix.The elevator groaned on its way up. Sixth floor. Oncology.I could still smell the burnt diner coffee on my sleeves, even after the double shift. My lower back throbbed, but I was past noticing pain. Or maybe I’d just gotten good at pretending it didn’t matter.Lily was asleep when I got there. The blanket barely covered her. Her IV beeped steadily like it had learned how to breathe for her. Her hair was thinner this week, wisps stuck to her forehead like faded dreams.I

The car waited outside Kingsley Headquarters like a shadow. Black. Polished. Intimidating.The driver didn’t say a word. Just opened the door and nodded.I slid in, gripping my coat tighter even though the car was warm. I didn’t speak. I couldn’t.Because I’d just sold a year of my life.No. I’d traded it, for Lily.The city blurred past the window. Cold gray sky. Angry taxis. My face staring back at me in the glass. Pale. Hollow. A stranger.In my lap sat the folder.The contract. Signed. Sealed.Too late to run.When we reached the mansion, I had to tilt my head to see the top. All glass and stone. The kind of place that made you feel small before you even stepped inside.Naomi was already waiting at the door. Arms crossed. Lips pressed into a line so sharp it could cut.“Miss Reynolds,” she said. Not warm. Not kind. Not even curious. “Follow me.”The inside of the house was silent. Marble floors, spotless walls. It smelled like expensive polish and rules.I used to dream of homes l

I didn’t sleep.Not really.Just curled into the corner of that perfect bed, listening to the walls breathe. Marble doesn’t creak like old floorboards whisper like it’s trying to warn you without making a sound.By morning, I was done pretending. I needed to see Lily. I didn’t care if it broke every clause in the contract.I crept out before sunrise. No, Naomi. No staff. No Mark.Only silence.The city was still wet with night. I stole a coat from the hall, one of Naomi’s probably, and left the house like a ghost. Flagged down a cab with trembling fingers and gave the driver the address I’d memorized from the hospital bracelet tucked in my pocket.Lily’s new ward was on the eighth floor. Private. Cold. Too quiet.She looked smaller. Paler. Her eyes fluttered open when I walked in, and for a second, the fear broke me in two.“Ava?” she croaked, her voice barely more than a breath. “You came?”I sank beside her and kissed her forehead. “Of course, I came.”Her hand in mine was too light

“She’s disposable. She knows that.”I didn’t breathe.I didn’t move.The words sank into the quiet like a knife, clean and sharp, and somehow louder than they were spoken. I stood frozen just outside his office door, the cracked frame casting light onto the hall carpet like it was trying to spit me out.My throat closed.So that’s what I was. Not his wife. Not a woman standing beside him in a ballroom filled with board members. It's just a placeholder. An object with an expiration date stamped in invisible ink.Disposable.I took one step back, then another, and fled down the hall barefoot. I didn’t care if Naomi saw. I didn’t care if the cameras saw. Let them. Let them see the girl who got dressed in diamonds just to be told she was furniture.I shut the guest room door behind me like it was the only line I could draw.I pressed my back to it, fists clenched, heart in pieces, and still—still—my phone buzzed again.Ethan.A new message lit the screen like a curse.“He talks just like

The private jet touched down in Italy under a velvet dusk. Mountains rose like silent guards around the lake, the sky bleeding gold and ink. I watched from the window, my breath held tight in my chest.Damian hadn’t spoken a word since we boarded in New York.I didn’t expect warmth. But I didn’t expect this hollowness either like I didn’t exist unless cameras were around to prove it.The car met us at the edge of the runway. Black, sleek, silent. Damian slid in first, jaw set, coat crisp, phone in hand. I followed without a word. Mark sat up front, stone-faced.“We land to headlines,” Mark muttered. “Be ready.”“I’ve never stopped being ready,” I said softly.Damian glanced at me then. Brief. Measuring. Nothing in his face gave him away.—The villa was carved into the cliffs above Lake Como, old stone glowing gold in the setting sun. Naomi met us at the doors with a clipboard and a headset, barking details like a general.“Gown’s upstairs. Hair and makeup now. Step out looking like a