All Chapters of Ruthless Hearts: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

I woke up to my phone buzzing and it took everything in me not to chuck it out the window. I groggily wiped my eyes and looked at the cracked screen. It was 1:17 AM, and I had three missed calls from Victor. The phone buzzed again when I tried to call him back. It was a text from him.VICTOR: Need your help. Urgent. Meet me by the tracks. Please.My heart stuttered. Victor wasn’t the type to use words like “urgent.” I threw on my jacket as quietly as I could, trying not to wake my sister up. She stirred and turned, but thankfully didn’t wake up. Then I pushed back the flimsy fabric we used as a window cover; the glass had broken a few months back, and we had more important things to do with money than fix windows. The fire escape ladder outside my bedroom was old and rusty, and it shook with every step, but I had mastered the art of coming and going unscathed. The train yard was darker than usual. Most of the lights had burned out and no one bothered replacing them. I moved fast be

The street lights flickered above me like dying stars as I ran, arms pumping, heart pounding against the weight in my chest. The town was a blur of shadows and cold wind, but I didn’t slow down. I didn’t have a destination. I just needed to move— needed to get away from the suffocating guilt clawing through me.I couldn’t even bear to picture the look on my mother’s face when I brought Aria home. My father had been shocked too, even in his perpetual drunken state. Victor was going to die because of me.Aria’s hand— her gift, her future— was crushed because I couldn’t even do a damn thing right.And all I had to show for my clever little plan was a few blood stained bills and a broken family.The air sliced down my throat with every breath, but I couldn’t stop. My legs burned, my lungs screamed, but I ignored everything. I ran past dark storefronts and shuttered windows, past sleeping houses and the far off sound of sirens. My sneakers slapped against pavement soaked with last night’s

The tray in my hands didn’t tremble, but my knuckles were white around the handles.The Caldwells’ garden looked like it came straight out of a catalog. White parasols bloomed above a crystal-clear table where Evelyn Caldwell sat with three other women who all looked and smelled like money. Not perfume— just money. The breeze rustled the linen napkins like even nature knew it should behave here.I stepped toward the table, making sure to keep my posture straight, and my eyes low.“Oh,” one of the women murmured when she noticed me. “You’re letting the new one handle the good china?”Another gave a whispery laugh. “She’s a brave one.”Evelyn didn’t smile, but her lips curved ever so slightly. “Confidence often comes with inexperience.”I kept my voice calm, not really understanding what they were talking about anyway. “Would anyone care for fresh mint tea or lemon spritz?”“Spritz, please,” the senator’s wife said with a manicured wave, not looking at her.As I poured, I caught Mrs Cal

The Caldwell family had three sitting rooms.And right now, none of them felt safe.I sat stiffly in the center of the smallest one—“the red room,” they called it, because of the floor-to-ceiling velvet curtains. Dean stood near the window, still, silent and arms folded across his chest.Mason was slouched in one of the armchairs, pretending to scroll through his phone, but his knee bounced constantly. Nervous energy leaked from him in every direction.Evelyn sat opposite Lani, spine straight, legs crossed, with her gloved hands folded in her lap like she was waiting to be handed a sword and the legal right to use it.And then there was the man just entering the room.Richard Caldwell.He didn’t look like a billionaire or a media mogul. He didn’t look like the man who held half the country’s newsrooms in his pocket and the other half in court. No, Richard looked like someone who had outgrown the need to prove anything. Trim suit, pale eyes, salt-and-pepper beard so cleanly trimmed it

That night, I waited until the house was asleep. Then I slipped out of my new room and down the back staircase. My heart was pounding like it wanted out of my chest. The halls were dark and quiet. But it did nothing to ease my nerves.I found Dean waiting in the lowest level of the house, a second basement above the worker’s quarters. It was completely dark, and he stood in the dark, dressed down in black, with a flashlight in hand.“You’re late,” he said.“I had to avoid two guards and a camera loop.”“You missed one.”My stomach dropped.He smirked. “I'm just joking.”“How many times have you done this?”Dean didn’t respond.He keyed in a code on an unmarked panel. A soft click echoed, then the wall shifted open — revealing a narrow stone tunnel behind it.“You’ve got secret passages?” I asked in bewilderment.“The tunnels were by my grandfather. Used for evacuations during union riots.”“How historical of you.”He started down the tunnel and I followed.It was cold and narrow, lit o