All Chapters of The King's Forbidden Love: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Disclaimer: This story plunges into the shadows of the criminal underworld, where violence is raw, blood is spilled, and nothing is as clean as it seems. It depicts gore, alcohol abuse, and the ruthless world of organized crime. Names, characters, and events are entirely fictional; any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental. This content is intended for mature audiences who can handle the darkness. Reader discretion is strongly advised. Author’s Note: This work is entirely my original creation and is protected under applicable copyright laws. All rights are reserved. No part of this story, including its characters, plot, worldbuilding, or text in any form, may be copied, reproduced, distributed, translated, posted, or adapted without my explicit written permission. Any unauthorized use, reproduction, or distribution of this work may result in legal action. Note to Readers: This story is written using a hybrid point of view. Some events, scenes, or even ent

I sprinted upstairs, tears streaking my cheeks, sniffing as I moved with every step. I had never taken an interest in any guy, never dated anyone, maybe because I was too focused on my studies, on building a life I could control. I had always thought I had the freedom to choose, but now that freedom felt like a cruel joke. At the top of the stairs, Alexa’s eyes met mine. She stood by the railing, worry etched on her face, but I wasn’t ready to even talk to her. I shot her a sharp glance and rushed past toward my bedroom. Alexa followed. “Stop, Jenna. Why are you ignoring me? Just hear me out,” she said. I closed my eyes, tightened my jaw, and opened them again, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Alexa, we will talk later. I am not in the right headspace.” She nodded quietly and lowered her head, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. Even as I shut the door, my hands trembled and my chest felt tight. Alexa’s worried eyes flashed in my mind, and I pressed my palm to my

I sat on the edge of my bed, the room dim and too quiet. My hands pressed lightly on my knees, trying to steady myself. My eyes stayed fixed on the floor, but I wasn’t seeing anything. Every time I inhaled, the screech of tires and the crack of glass echoed behind my eyes, squeezing my chest. My fingers twitched slightly, recalling the grip they’d had on the seat just hours earlier. My luggage sat beside me, placed in the room the moment I reached home. I exchanged a few words with my family, a quick greeting, a little small talk, just enough to appear normal. Inside, I remained unsettled. I hadn’t wanted to burden them with the truth. They expected me to return by cab, the story I had told before leaving, but the reality had been far from ordinary. The cloaked man had insisted that I go with one of his guards. I had had no choice. After what I had witnessed and with the driver dead, arranging another route home at that hour had been impossible. The guard had driven me in silence,

The ride home passed in heavy silence. The familiar streets and my house felt altered, heavy and foreign, until I bolted to my room and slammed the lock. My purse thudded onto the bed as I sank to the edge, clutching the mattress, my breath uneven, my eyes scanning the room. How dare he act like this, like he owns everything, like I’m nothing but an object to be claimed? I thought bitterly, trying to steady myself. Who does he think he is, imagining he can command me with that smirk, those eyes, that presence that makes my chest tighten? I pressed my thighs together, nails digging into my skin through the blue jeans, tension flaring through me. I hate him. I hate him more than anything. And yet, I couldn’t ignore the weight of the years in his face, the way the lines around his eyes and the firmness of his jaw marked him as fully a man, older than me, experienced in ways I could barely imagine. Normally, age wouldn’t matter to me, but it was him. It made him… heavier, more deliber

I was setting dishes on the counter after washing and drying them, the maid on vacation with a high fever. I moved slowly, lost in thought, my arms aching slightly, a dull throb behind my eyes that I tried to ignore by keeping busy, since my family was getting ready to go on a shopping trip. The room was quiet, except for the occasional clink of a plate as I stacked them, until Alexa hurried into the kitchen, having just finished getting ready. Her energy practically bounced off the walls as she rushed toward me. Suddenly, she grabbed my upper arm and spun me around. I flinched inwardly, twitching my brows. I came back to my senses and met her sparkling eyes and wide grin. “You know, Jenna, guess what I just heard Mom and Dad talking about?” she whispered, glancing at the doorway as if anyone might be listening, bouncing on her heels. “Dad had a call with Mr. Evan. He said you impressed him,” she added, practically buzzing with excitement. My nostrils flared, and I tightened my gr