Todos os capítulos de Falling for the Disgraced Heir: Capítulo 1 - Capítulo 10

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the thin curtains. It hit Julia straight in the eyes, merciless and far too bright. She groaned, rolling onto her side—then froze as pain flared through her shoulders.Right. Last night.She pushed herself up slowly, wincing at the soreness in her arms from hauling a full-grown man up three flights of stairs. Her tiny apartment felt unfamiliar in the daylight, too quiet, too crowded. The air smelled faintly of rain… and whiskey.Julia padded into the living room—and nearly tripped over herself.Brandon sat on her couch, alive and very much awake, one ankle resting casually on his knee as he scrolled through his phone like he owned the place. His tuxedo was gone, replaced by a wrinkled dress shirt he’d clearly slept in. Dark hair fell into his eyes, giving him a lazy, irritatingly handsome look that made her teeth itch.“Oh good,” he said without looking up. “You’re awake. Where’s breakfast?”Julia stared at him, brain short-circuiting. “Excus

Julia’s hands trembled as she gripped the ID card tighter. The name Hughes burned like acid across her vision. She set it down on the table with a sharp snap.When Brandon finally stirred, rubbing sleep from his eyes, Julia was waiting. Arms crossed, jaw set, eyes blazing.“Care to explain this?” She shoved the ID card toward him.Brandon froze, the lazy smirk fading from his lips. For once, he didn’t have a witty retort ready. He stared at the card, then back at her.“Why lie about who you are?” Julia demanded, her voice low but fierce. “Brandon Carter, Hughes… whatever your name is. Do you think this is funny? Do you know what your family has done?”He sat up slowly, running a hand through his messy hair. “It’s not what you think.”“Then tell me what it is.”A long pause stretched between them. Brandon’s gaze darkened, his usual arrogance replaced by something guarded.“I just… wanted to start fresh.” His tone was flat, evasive. “I don’t want to be Hughes anymore. That’s it.”Julia’

The elevator ride felt longer than a lifetime.Julia smoothed her thrifted blazer for the tenth time, trying not to fidget under the mirrored ceiling’s harsh reflection. The Hughes Corporation headquarters gleamed like a monument to arrogance—glass, marble, and the faint scent of wealth she no longer belonged to.You can do this, she told herself. Keep your head down, work hard, get paid.The elevator dinged. Welcome to the 18th floor: Marketing Division.Rows of sleek desks, humming computers, and people who looked like they were born wearing designer suits. Julia clutched her staff badge and found her assigned seat—right at the corner, next to the copier and far from the sunlight. Perfect. Invisible.“New temp?” a woman’s voice chirped.Julia turned. Ms. Sanders—sharp heels, sharper smile—stood with a folder tucked under her arm. “I’m your supervisor. You’ll handle errands, proofreading, and whatever else I decide you can handle. Understood?”“Yes, ma’am,” Julia said quickly.Ms. S

The office was almost deserted when the clock on the wall blinked past nine. The buzz of fluorescent lights hummed above Julia Bailey’s desk as she typed furiously, eyes burning from the glow of her monitor. Half-finished coffee sat beside her, cold and bitter—just like her mood.Her supervisor, Ms. Doyle, had dumped a pile of work on her before leaving. “You’re new, Bailey. Show me you’re worth my time,” she’d said with a smirk.Now Julia sat alone with three deadlines and zero patience.She jumped when the sound of shuffling echoed from the corridor.“Still alive?”Julia groaned at the voice. “Of course. Just waiting for death to finally take me, Brandon.”Brandon Hughes appeared at the door, his cheap gray uniform wrinkled, hair sticking out in five different directions. “You make that sound poetic. Need a hand?”Julia didn’t even look up. “Last time you offered a hand, the copier died a tragic death.”He walked in anyway, uninvited. “Hey, I’ve improved! I even made coffee this mor

The clock ticked past midnight.Julia sat on the couch, arms folded, the glow from the streetlight cutting through the blinds. The apartment was too quiet, too cold. She’d reheated dinner twice. Still no sign of him.Her mind wavered between anger and worry. She wanted to strangle Brandon for storming off—but also wanted to know if he was safe.By 3 a.m., she gave up and went to bed, staring at the ceiling until exhaustion finally dragged her under.===The next morning, the sound of the door unlocking jolted her awake.Brandon stumbled in. His shirt was torn, his lip split, and there was a faint smell of alcohol mixed with rain and asphalt.