Lahat ng Kabanata ng The heart Beneath the Thorn : Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 7

he first time I met Max Carter, I knew he was trouble.It was kindergarten, and the sun beat down on my back as I knelt in the sandbox, carefully building a castle with another little boy who had trouble speaking. I liked him—he was quiet like me, patient and sweet. We didn’t need words. We just built together, side by side, making tiny turrets and moats. I was focused on making my sand tower just right when Max, with his wild dark hair and mischievous smirk, marched over like he owned the playground. I watched, mouth agape, as he grabbed the other boy’s shovel without even asking.I stood up quickly, hands on my hips, frowning at him. “You can’t just take things that aren’t yours,” I told him, my tiny voice firm despite the tremble of nerves.Max looked at me, his dark brown eyes gleaming with something I didn’t yet recognize—something cruel, something that made my stomach twist. Without a word, he kicked a spray of sand right into my face. The grains stung my eyes and filled my mout

I had planned a lot of things in my life.My escape to New York. My career. My independence. The careful climb from invisible girl to a woman with ambition. I had battled every demon in my past just to have a seat at the table, to matter. But nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared me for planning Max Carter’s charity gala.For weeks, I spent every waking hour drowning in guest lists, five-star caterers, luxury floral arrangements, and an obscene budget that could probably end world hunger—not that Max cared. He signed off on invoices without blinking. I could have ordered a live tiger for the ballroom and he wouldn’t have noticed.I tried to explain the importance of the charity he was supposedly supporting—something about childhood education grants—but his eyes glazed over every time.“Right, right,” he waved a dismissive hand. “The little, uh—poor children, right?”I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Underprivileged students.”“Yeah, yeah, that,” he said, already looking at hi

The RiseSuccess should feel good.But all I feel is nothing.By twenty-five, I had it all.The penthouse. The power. The profile.Max Carter—Forbes’ 25 Under 25. The golden boy of Wall Street.A prodigy. A king in a suit.A CEO before I could legally rent a car.People loved to say my name.In meetings, in magazines, in places that once slammed the door in my face.I’d walk into boardrooms and watch grown men—men who’d built empires—sit straighter, like the weight of my presence made the air heavier.They said I was brilliant. Ruthless. The next big thing.What they didn’t know?I failed Algebra twice in high school.My father pulled strings just to get me into Columbia.And every “win” I racked up came with a footnote stamped in his name.They didn’t know that sometimes I’d wake up in my million-dollar bed, sunlight pouring through floor-to-ceiling windows, and feel like I was watching someone else’s life.I was successful.I was rich.I was empty.The Rot Beneath the GoldI had mon

I woke up in a hospital bed.Pain.That was the first thing I felt. Not dull. Not aching. Excruciating.Like every inch of my body had been torn apart and stitched back together by someone with trembling hands. My ribs throbbed with each breath. My head pulsed like it might split open. I couldn’t open my eyes all the way—everything was blurry, shapes melting into white walls and blinking monitors.The smell of antiseptic stung my nose. The distant beep of machines created a sterile symphony that filled the too-quiet room.I tried to move.Nothing responded.My limbs were dead weight. My legs might as well have been cinder blocks. My arms felt foreign, like they didn’t belong to me anymore.Something was wrong.And then—I heard it.A voice, muted at first, like it was floating through water, but unmistakable.“Max…”Another voice—professional, cold, sterile.“Mr. Carter, can you hear me? You’ve suffered a spinal injury. The tests are in. You’ve lost feeling in your legs. There’s a chan