บททั้งหมดของ Until The Truth Burns: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 8

I slowed down as I neared home. The house was unusually quiet, missing the soft jazz my mother usually played in the evenings. I turned the knob — unlocked. The second strange thing.I was about to call for my mum when I saw it. Bright red seeping into the carpet beside her lifeless body. A few feet away, in the dining room doorway, lay my father. Also lifeless.With trembling hands, I picked up the note in his palm.“I will be watching.”I stumbled back, and before the weight of it could sink in, someone grabbed me and I screamed—“NOOOO!!”I jolted awake, screaming for the third night in a row. Sweat clung to my forehead, the bedsheet damp. I turned on the small light above my bed and saw my terrified reflection in the dresser mirror—wild hair, wide eyes, dry lips.I poured a glass of water. As I drank, the memory replayed again, as it always did.The night my parents died.The night I lost everything.For two years I’d tried to understand why anyone would kill them in such a cold,

My encounter with Mr. Asshole had me fuming all morning. My attraction had dropped by a hundred percent—okay, fine, fifty. Don’t judge me. Have you seen the man??And you won’t believe this: everyone at LH walked around like smiling required corporate approval. Except the sweet receptionist. Honestly, considering their boss, I understood why. That brief sympathetic look she gave me finally made sense. Job listings here needed hazard signs: Warning—may cause emotional trauma.I cleaned the entire office with Olympic-level precision. Outside of studying numbers and reading dark romance books—which have definitely ruined my standards in men—I had the attention span of a toddler in an amusement park.“There. Perfect,” I muttered to the spotless desk. “Let’s see you complain now, Mr. Asshole.” I packed up and headed toward the elevator after changing in the janitor’s closet.Just as I stepped out, I almost bumped into a woman whose pencil skirt looked two sizes too small.“Watch where you’

I walked into the executive wing this morning, still drained from Meghan’s ordeal last night. Not physically — emotionally. Her cracked voice, the bruise on her cheek, the way she shook… it haunted me through the night.I finished the other two offices, the lounge, and the conference room before heading into Mr. Asshole’s office, only to find papers scattered all over his desk.“And this man is supposed to be organized?” I muttered. Organized, my foot.I started cleaning the mess. Numbers always grab my attention, so I skimmed a page. Then another. And then I started lining the sheets up. Something was off.“Talk to me,” I whispered to the figures.Then I saw it — the starting balances had been carefully manipulated.“What,” a cold voice snapped behind me, “the fuck do you think you are doing?”I jolted so hard the papers flew. Damien Lockewood stood in the doorway looking ready to pounce.“I… clean… the paper…” I stuttered. Beautiful. Absolutely stunning performance.“Get out,” he sa

I was late.Of course I was late.Because nothing in my life ever behaved.I speed-walked down Alder Street, bag thumping against my hip, replaying this morning on a humiliating loop: me in Damien Lockewood’s office, dropping documents like I’d never used fingers before, telling him he wasn’t as smart as people thought… then Rose telling me he fired a whole manager minutes later.Yeah. That could’ve been me.Perfect start.The worst part?I wasn’t nervous because lateness was bad.I was nervous because Nick might decide he didn’t want someone who showed up fifteen minutes late on their first day.The café bell jingled as I slipped inside, hair windblown, dignity hanging by a thread. Morning & Co. was buzzing. Lila was flying around the counter; Nick was battling the chalkboard like it had personally offended him.“There she is!” Lila announced grandly. “On her first day! At… eleven fifteen.”“I can explain,” I sputtered.Nick didn’t turn around. “She overslept,” he said dryly.“Correc