Lahat ng Kabanata ng UGLY? No More!: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

Elara's POV:I shouldn’t have come to this party.The music pulsed like a heartbeat through the walls, echoing in my ears and settling somewhere deep in my stomach, where nerves danced with something like regret. The air smelled like cheap cologne, spilled vodka, and entitlement, everything I tried to avoid.I didn’t belong here.My sweater clung awkwardly to my frame, my glasses kept slipping down the bridge of my nose, and I was probably the only one not live streaming this night on social media. In fact, I doubted anyone even noticed I was here.Until he did.Leonard Shaw.Golden boy. Star of the basketball team. Marketing major. Walking charisma. The kind of boy you see in teen dramas, the one who never looks your way unless it’s for a laugh. And for four years, I had mastered the art of fading into the background every time he was around.Except tonight.He was drunk. Sloppily, slurringly drunk. Laughing too loudly. Eyes slightly unfocused. The red Solo cup in his hand was nearly

“Three years ago, I was told I wasn’t memorable enough for this industry,” she continued. “Not pretty enough. Not loud enough. Not enough in general. I didn’t come from money. I didn’t have connections. I wasn’t invited in, I clawed my way here.”Murmurs of admiration echoed across the room.“I poured every ounce of what I once tried to hide, my shame, my anger, my silence, into this collection. Revival wasn’t just a theme. It was a promise. That no matter what the world tried to erase, I would rise.”A standing ovation began again, but she lifted a hand, gracefully signaling for them to wait.“There are many people to thank, but one name shines above the rest. The man who saw my talent before the world did. Who invested not just in my vision, but in me.”She smiled, genuinely this time.“Julian Cross.”Gasps rippled through the crowd as the spotlight found Julian in the front row. He stood, dipping his head in acknowledgment. A quiet, respectful king to her war queen.Elara lifted he

Leonard frowned. “This was an emergency meeting.”Julian sat across from him, lacing his fingers atop the table. “Correct. You called for it. I’m here to tell you, there is no emergency.”Leonard’s jaw tensed. “I want to talk to Elara.”“That won’t happen.”“I need to apologize.”Julian’s gaze hardened slightly. “You had years to do that.”“I didn’t know,” Leonard said, voice rising despite himself. “Back then.. I didn’t remember. But now...”Julian cut him off. “She’s doing fine without your memory. Or your guilt.”Leonard’s fists clenched at his sides. “Is she yours?”A pause.Julian tilted his head slightly, a smile dancing at the edge of his mouth. Not confirming. Not denying.“She’s her own,” Julian said simply. “But I protect what matters to me. And right now, Leonard, you’re a storm she doesn’t need.”Leonard exhaled shakily. “She was different, back then.”“She was better,” Julian replied coldly. “Even when she was quiet. And you broke her.”Leonard looked away.Then he glance

The estate’s morning view burst into full glory: a sweeping private garden framed by climbing roses, trimmed hedges, and a small fountain in the center. The kind of garden her mother never thought she’d live to have.“She always does,” Elara said, voice low but amused.Lydia walked to the bed and set her coffee down on the side table.She looked at the sleeping girl with a tenderness that was still new to her, raw, quiet, almost reverent.“I came to steal her,” Lydia said. “She promised me pancakes yesterday, and I intend to collect.”“She’s two, mom. I made that promise on her behalf.”Lydia waved a hand dismissively. “Details. She owes me breakfast. You owe me silence until noon.”Elara shook her head and folded her arms, watching her mother gently pick up the little girl without waking her.She curled naturally against her grandmother’s chest, her chubby arms instinctively circling around Lydia’s neck.And for just a moment, Elara’s heart clenched.Not in sadness.In awe.It hadn’t

Elara walked in, letting the familiar scent settle her nerves.The large windows flooded the room with light. It wasn’t just a studio. It was a haven, a battlefield, and her confession booth all at once.On the long center table sat sketches from last night’s ideas.Her hands moved instinctively, adjusting a pinned muslin dress on the mannequin.A few strokes of charcoal to a rough design in her sketchbook. A mental note to fix a neckline. It was second nature.Yet her thoughts kept wandering.Julian’s voice over the phone. The hesitation. The tension in his tone when he’d mentioned Leonard’s words.“He said he was your first.”Her stomach twisted.God, why had Leonard said that?What was he playing at?He didn’t even remember that night clearly, did he?He’d been drunk, reeking of vodka and frustration. She remembered trembling, frozen in the dark, his sharp voice telling her it was a mistake, threatening her into silence, then pretending she didn’t exist the next day.Her chest tigh