All Chapters of Where Desire Becomes Ruin: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The first thing Iris Calloway learned about desire was that it never announced itself. It didn’t come crashing through the door or demand attention. It slipped in quietly, settled beneath the skin, and waited, patient, relentless until it became impossible to ignore. She felt it now, standing in the center of the Blackwood penthouse, a crystal flute of champagne trembling ever so slightly in her hand. Engagement parties were supposed to feel celebratory, Light, Safe. This one felt like a test. The penthouse glittered with polished marble and gold-veined glass, the kind of space designed to impress and intimidate in equal measure. Manhattan stretched endlessly beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, a city of power and promise glowing beneath the night sky. The guests, executives, investors, politicians moved through the room with practiced ease, laughter smooth and measured, every smile carrying intention. At the center of it all stood Lucien Blackwood. Her fiancé. Lucien was fla

There were two kinds of silence Adrian Blackwood had learned to live with. The first was the comfortable kind, the one that settled into boardrooms when decisions were made without argument, the quiet that followed a signed deal or a defeated opponent. That silence meant control. The second was this. The kind that pressed into his chest long after the penthouse doors had closed, long after the champagne flutes were cleared and the lights dimmed. The kind that followed him home, crawled into his thoughts, and refused to leave. That silence had Iris’s name written all over it. Adrian stood in his own penthouse, jacket draped over the back of a chair he hadn’t sat in, city lights bleeding through the glass like open wounds. He poured himself a drink he didn’t want and set it down untouched on the counter. He could still see her. The way she’d stood at the terrace railing, shoulders drawn tight like she was holding herself together by will alone. The way she’d looked at the city as

Lucien noticed the change the moment Iris walked into the room. It wasn’t dramatic. Iris never was. She didn’t stumble or avert her gaze or flinch like a guilty thing. She moved with her usual grace, posture straight, expression composed. To anyone else, she would have looked exactly the same as she always did, calm, polished, unassailable. But Lucien Blackwood did not build empires by accepting surfaces. He noticed the fraction of a second it took her to meet his eyes. The way her fingers curled inward when she set her bag down, as if she needed to anchor herself. He noticed that she sat a little farther away than usual, that she spoke with care, choosing words like stepping-stones across uncertain ground. Most of all, he noticed the quiet. Iris had always been thoughtful, but there was a difference between thoughtfulness and restraint. Tonight, every sentence sounded measured, as though she were afraid of saying the wrong thing afraid that if she spoke too freely, something dan

Midnight didn’t change anything. It didn’t rearrange the world, didn’t shift the skyline, didn’t dim the city’s appetite. Time moved the way it always did, forward, indifferent while people convinced themselves that new hours meant new chances. Lucien Blackwood knew better. Midnight only revealed what people were willing to do when they thought no one was watching. He was still awake when Iris left. Not because he was waiting for her to do something reckless. Not because he expected betrayal. Lucien didn’t expect anything from anyone expectations made you complacent. He was awake because the board dinner had run later than planned and his mind was still in motion, sorting through the evening’s conversations like a ledger. He’d come home calm, loosened his tie, poured a drink, and watched Iris move through the penthouse with that careful grace she wore like armor. She’d smiled at him. She’d asked how his night went. She’d let him kiss her forehead. She’d performed. An

If I didn’t choose soon Lucien would choose for me. The thought settled into my bones, heavy and undeniable. He stood there in the bathroom doorway, hands still warm on my cheeks, eyes searching my face with a focus that felt like possession disguised as care. The penthouse lights were low, the city beyond the windows humming like nothing inside me was unraveling. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he had said. But he already was. Not with cruelty. Not with anger. With closeness. He leaned in, resting his forehead against mine, breathing me in as if memorizing me. I stood frozen, my hands hovering uselessly at my sides, unsure whether pulling away would make things worse or finally honest. “You don’t have to be afraid,” Lucien murmured. I swallowed. “I am.” His grip tightened just slightly. Not enough to bruise. Enough to remind. “Of what?” he asked. I didn’t answer, because the truth would fracture us completely. Of you. Instead, I whispered, “Everything feels out of control.