บททั้งหมดของ Ruthless Hearts: บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

There was a park an hour away from the Caldwell residence, it was where I used to go when I needed space. I liked it because it was small and secluded, almost abandoned. No one was ever here.I’d been sitting there for three hours, enjoying the peace when quiet when I heard Mason’s voice.“I knew I’d find you here eventually,”I jerked out of my thoughts like I’d been electrocuted. “What are you doing here?”He opened and closed his mouth like a fish a few times, before finally settling for a stupid apology. “I’m sorry.”The words tumbled out of him before I could even look at him.I crossed my arms tight against my chest. “You’re sorry.” My voice cracked like a blade. “That’s what you came all the way out here for?”His jaw flexed. “I needed you to hear it.”“Why? So you can feel better?”He flinched but didn’t step closer to me, thankfully. “Because I never meant to hurt you, Lani.”A bitter laugh tore out of me, too deep to sound human. “Never meant to?” I took a step forward, clos

FIVE YEARS LATERThe breakfast table in the Caldwell mansion gleamed like it always did: polished silver, white china, crystal glasses filled with orange juice that caught the morning light like fire. Everything was perfectly arranged, from the folded linen napkins to the steaming carafes Evelyn had ordered in from the French café downtown.But the silence was different.Dean sat hunched forward, scrolling through emails on his phone, his tie already knotted for the day. Mason stirred his coffee without drinking it, eyes fixed on the swirl of cream as though it held some kind of answer to whatever he was thinking. Evelyn, at the head of the table, lifted her teacup with a practiced hand. She didn’t look at her sons. She rarely did.The television murmured faintly in the corner of the room, as it always did during breakfast. It was a constant loop of market reports, a weather update, and dull chatter about city politics. Nothing that required Evelyn’s attention.And then the anchor’s v

The bus ride into town hadn’t changed. It was still the same cracked sidewalks, the same faded shop awnings, the same peeling paint on the row of brick apartments that sagged against each other like tired shoulders. I pressed my forehead against the window as it lurched to a stop. It made my heart hudding. I hadn’t been back here in years— five whole years, to be exact— and yet every corner of the place lived in my bones.I walked the two blocks to my mother’s house with my hood pulled low. The reporters had long since disappeared from this town; to them, the Grey family was yesterday’s scandal. What was left was quieter, but heavier: neighbors with long memories, gossip that clung like smoke, the faint, stubborn shame that never fully left.The house looked… better. Not much, but enough that it startled me. The cracked step had been replaced. The curtains were new, a pale floral print instead of the old stained beige. Even the front door gleamed with a fresh coat of paint.My hand ho

“Get out.”“Lani, can you just hear me out for a second?”“No, I don’t want to hear you spew more filthy lies anymore. Leave.”“Lani—”“Get the hell out of my house, Dean.”“If you could just—”“I’m calling security.” I charged toward the phone, but Dean caught my hand before I could reach it. I yanked it back with a sharp motion.“Get your hands off me!” I snapped, my voice trembling with fury.“I’m sorry it turned out this way…”“Sorry?” I cut him off with a bitter scoff, my lips curling with resentment.“You think sorry is going to fix how terrible you all made me feel? I was humiliated, degraded, and maltreated beyond belief, and yet none of you cared about my feelings!”“I was stupid…”“Of course you are.”Dean lifted his hands in surrender, his expression was pained.“If you would just sit down so we can talk—"“Don’t come into my house and tell me what to do, Dean. You have no right to even be in my presence right now. I despise you.” I spat the words like venom and angrily sw

“Peter Grey was a very good friend,” Richard began softly, his voice catching my attention once more.I reluctantly turned back, my glare fixed on him.“We met in college during our sophomore years,” Richard continued, his tone taking on a distant, almost nostalgic warmth.“Grey was the best player on the rugby team, and he aced all his courses, always leading with one of the highest GPAs in the department. I admired him. I wanted to be like him.”A faint, bittersweet smile touched Richard’s lips, like the memory had briefly transported him to a time when things were simpler and happier.“One day, I asked him to tutor me. That was how our friendship began. Grey was… he was kind. Too kind. Trusting, easygoing and one of those rare souls loved by everyone who crossed his path. Before long, we became inseparable. He helped me with tuition fees when I was struggling. He tutored me after classes, we practiced rugby together, and when we graduated, it felt like I owed much of my success to