All Chapters of Teach me to sin II (Sins of the past): Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

The palace felt unusually quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that made every footstep echo like it was announcing your presence to the whole building. Lindsay was already seated at the long marble table, her salad untouched, eyes half-closed as if she’d been meditating or plotting world domination — it was hard to tell which. Knowing her, probably option 2.Gabrielle, on the other hand, perched on the edge of a chair, fingers drumming impatiently against her knees, her expression sharp, expectant, like she’d been waiting for me to make the first move. I took a slow breath, deliberately letting my heels click against the polished floor as I approached. Every eye in the room had a story, every gesture a question. What I was about to do would have Gabrielle laughing in my face for years to come.I didn’t care.She was owed this much. “I need to apologize,” I said, stopping a few feet from Gabrielle, my tone light but deliberate. Her head snapped up. Surprise. Confusion. Suspi

Luca never looked surprised to see anyone. That was always the first sign that something was wrong with him. People reacted; Luca calculated. He sat on the arm of the leather chair in the east sitting room, sleeves rolled up, a calm expression carved onto his face like it had been shaped there at birth. The sunlight warmed his cheekbones, making him look even more composed than usual—like chaos couldn’t touch him. Too perfect. Too controlled. I stepped inside and shut the door behind me with a soft click. Luca glanced up from his phone. A lazy smile. “To what do I owe this startling visit? Is this about the Dior perfume incident? I already apologized.” “You apologized,” I said, walking forward, “because Angelo Bove made you. Not because you meant it.” “That boy is in love with you, you know” “The same way he’s been in love with all the 700 girls he keeps recycling?” His smile flickered—just slightly. Almost invisible. But I saw it. “Gabrielle,” he said lightl

Night had always been a heavy thing in this house. Not peaceful. Not restful. Heavy. The kind of darkness that sat on your chest and pressed down, forcing you to feel everything you’d tried to swallow during the day. The moonlight slipping through my curtains made long pale bars across my walls, but even that soft light felt wrong — like it was revealing me instead of comforting me. I sat on my bed with my knees pulled to my chest, my back against the headboard, my phone lying face-down beside me like a weapon I didn’t dare touch again. Everything inside me was shaking, even though the room was still. The text message wouldn’t stop echoing. **The debt your mother owes has to be paid one way or another.** I had deleted it the moment I read it. I had blocked the number. But blocking a number wasn’t the same thing as blocking Wakeem. Wakeem didn’t use one number. He didn’t use one face. He didn’t need one. If he wanted you, he got you. My room felt too small suddenly —

School felt different today. Not louder. Not busier. Just… sharper. Every sound cut a little deeper. Every color looked a little brighter. Maybe that’s what happens when you know you’re seeing things for the last time—your brain starts memorizing even the useless details. The way the windows flicker with sunlight. The way paper smells when a teacher flips a page. The distant hum of the building, like it’s alive. I sat at my desk, pretending to listen, pretending to take notes, pretending to be normal. But my chest felt tight—tight in that way that meant tears were balancing right behind my eyes, waiting for the smallest excuse to spill over. I wasn’t ready to leave this life. But I didn’t have a choice. Wakeem had found me. He knew where Tristan lived. Where Alex lived. Where Marilyn slept. This time, it wasn’t a threat I could outrun. Someone would die if I stayed. So I had to go. Even if it broke everything I’d just started building. The te

The wind on the rooftop was colder than I expected for noon, slicing across my face like a warning. I breathed it in anyway. I liked the cold. It reminded me that I was alive, that this moment was real, that the plan I had been weaving with such patient precision was finally unfolding in front of me. Elijah arrived right on time. I had told him earlier—soft voice, shy smile, the same one he always trusted— “Come on, man. Chinese takeout on the roof. My treat.” He believed me because people like Elijah always believe the quiet ones. The gentle ones. The ones who keep their heads down and hold doors open. He walked out of the door with damp hands, his sleeves still rolled up from cleaning. His face was bright when he saw me—until he saw the gun in my hand. His smile died instantly. Before me stood Eloise. Her entire body was shaking. Her breathing was uneven, like she was trying to keep herself from collapsing. Perfect. “J… Jibril?” Elijah whispered. “Wh