All Chapters of Nights I sold to him : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

51 Chapters

Chapter 1: Late Nights and Quiet Eyes

Chapter 2: The Text I Shouldn’t Send

Grandma’s breathing sounds wrong.It’s shallow and fast, like she’s running in her sleep. I sit on the edge of her bed in our tiny apartment, holding her hand. It’s paper-thin now, blue veins showing under the skin. The hospital sent her home yesterday with more pills and a quiet look from the nurse that scared me more than words.I’ve been up all night. The envelope Noah left is still on the kitchen table, unopened the second time. There’s another one too—the one from my cleaning cart last night. I haven’t touched either.I keep thinking about what taking it means.Around 4 a.m., Grandma wakes up coughing. I help her sip water, rub her back like she used to do for me when I was little and sick. When she settles, she looks at me with those tired green eyes the same color as mine.“You need sleep, baby,” she whispers.“I’m okay.” My voice cracks.She touches my cheek. “We’ll figure the money out. We always do.”Tears burn my eyes. We won’t. Not this time. The new treatment the doctor t

Chapter 3: Too Close

Three weeks in and I’m starting to forget what my own bed feels like.I still keep my little apartment with Grandma, but most nights I end up at Noah’s penthouse. It just happens. I go over after my cleaning shift, tell myself I’ll leave by midnight, and then I wake up with his arm around me and city lights still glowing outside the windows.Grandma’s doing better. A lot better. The new treatment worked fast color back in her cheeks, she’s even baking again. She keeps saying “some kind soul paid for it all” and I smile and nod, feeling the lie sit heavy in my stomach.Tonight I’m later than usual. The diner was busy and my feet hurt. When the private elevator opens, Noah’s on the couch in sweatpants and a t-shirt, laptop closed beside him. He looks up and smiles small, but real.“You’re late.”“Rough shift.” I drop my bag and kick off my shoes. “Some guy left a two-dollar tip on a fifty-dollar bill and told me to smile more.”Noah’s face darkens. He stands, walks over, and pulls me in

Chapter 4: The First Crack

It’s been six weeks now. Six weeks of sneaking into his penthouse after my shifts, six weeks of waking up in sheets that cost more than my monthly rent, six weeks of telling myself this is still just an arrangement.Grandma’s almost like her old self. She’s baking every day, humming in the kitchen, even talking about planting flowers on the little balcony come spring. Yesterday she danced actually danced a few steps around the living room when her favorite old song came on the radio. I stood in the doorway and cried without her seeing.All because of him.Noah.I say his name in my head more than I should.Tonight the diner was slow, so I got off early. I text him that I’m coming over. He replies with a simple thumbs-up emoji, but I know he’ll be waiting.When the elevator doors open, the place smells like garlic and tomatoes. He’s in the kitchen—barefoot, sleeves rolled up—stirring something on the stove. He looks over his shoulder and smiles.“Made pasta. The one with the creamy sau

Chapter 5: The Picture

I’m starting to leave things at his place. A hair tie on the bathroom counter. My cheap strawberry shampoo in his shower. One of my old hoodies folded on the chair because I got cold one night and he gave me his, so I left mine behind. Little pieces of me are spreading through his big, clean penthouse like I belong here.I keep telling myself I don’t.It’s a Thursday night. I finished cleaning early and came straight over. Noah opens the door still in his work shirt, tie loose, looking tired but happy to see me. He kisses me hello like it’s the most normal thing in the world.We eat pizza on the couch, legs tangled, some cooking show on in the background. He laughs at something I say about a customer at the diner, and the sound makes my stomach flip.After, we take a long shower together. Water hot, steam everywhere. His hands slide over my wet skin, soaping my back, then my front. He spends extra time on my breasts—always does—thumbs circling until I’m leaning against the tile, breat

Chapter 6: The Messages Won’t Stop

I haven’t slept. The phone buzzes again under my pillow at Noah’s place. I grab it fast so it doesn’t wake him. Another unknown number. This time it’s a different picture. One from inside the building lobby two nights ago. Noah’s hand is low on my back, almost on my hip. My face is turned up to him, eyes soft, lips parted like I was about to say something sweet. He’s looking down at me the way he does when he thinks no one’s watching—like I’m the only thing in the room. The message under it: He used to look at his fiancée like that. Wonder what she’d think of you now. My stomach twists. I delete it quick, hands shaking. I’ve been deleting them for days. They come from different numbers. Always at night. Always with a new photo. Someone’s following us. Noah stirs beside me. “Lila?” “Go back to sleep,” I whisper. “Just work stuff.” He pulls me closer, arm heavy across my waist, and falls quiet again. I stare at the ceiling until the sun comes up. --- Tha

Chapter 7: The Day It Broke

:I can’t keep the phone quiet anymore.The messages come faster now. Every few hours. New pictures. Closer ones.One from inside the elevator my back against the wall, Noah’s hand under my shirt, my head tipped back, eyes closed. You can’t see much, but you can tell what’s happening.Another from the penthouse window blurry, taken from across the street with a long lens. Just shadows, but it’s us on the couch, me straddling him, his hands on my hips.Each one comes with words that cut deeper.Whore.Gold-digger.He’ll get tired of you soon.I delete them all, block the numbers, but new ones come.I stop sleeping.Noah notices. Of course he does.“What’s going on, Lila?” he asks one morning over coffee. His voice is gentle, but his eyes are worried.“Nothing. Just stress.”He doesn’t believe me. I can tell. But he lets it go.That afternoon I’m at Grandma’s. She’s in the kitchen making her famous apple pie—the one she hasn’t had energy for in years. The smell fills the whole apartment

Chapter 8: The Silence After

I don’t go to work the next day.I call in sick to both jobs. My boss at the diner says it’s fine, his voice careful like he’s seen the news too. The cleaning supervisor just says, “Take the time you need.”I stay in bed at Grandma’s, curtains closed, phone off.Grandma brings me soup at lunch. Chicken noodle—the kind she made when I was little and had the flu. She sets the bowl on the nightstand and sits on the edge of the bed.We haven’t talked about it yet.Not really.She smooths my hair back from my face. Her hand is gentle, but I flinch anyway.“Eat something, baby.”“I’m not hungry.”She sighs. “You’ve lost weight these past weeks. All that running around.”Because I was running to him, I think.Every night.The silence stretches. I wait for her to ask. To yell. To say she’s ashamed.Instead she says, “He seemed nice, from the pictures.”I sit up fast. “Grandma—”“I’m old, not blind.” Her voice is quiet. “The way he looked at you… that wasn’t just money.”Tears flood my eyes ag

Chapter 9: Empty Spaces

It’s been five days since I sent the text.Five days of silence from him.I keep checking my phone like an idiot. Every buzz makes my heart jump—then crash when it’s just Jess or a bill reminder.Grandma doesn’t ask about him anymore. She just makes sure I eat, leaves tea by my bed, hugs me when I cry for no reason.I quit the diner job. Couldn’t face the stares, the whispers.The cleaning company let me go too—said it was a “conflict of interest” now that everyone knows I was sleeping with the boss.I’m back to nothing.But Grandma’s medicine is paid for months ahead.That’s something.Most nights I lie awake in my old room, staring at the ceiling. The bed feels too big. Too cold.I miss his arms around me.I miss the way he’d kiss my shoulder when he thought I was asleep.I miss how safe I felt.I hate myself for missing it.On the sixth day, I go to his penthouse.I don’t know why. I tell myself it’s to get my things—the hoodie, the shampoo, the sketchbook I left on his nightstand.

Chapter 10: The Package

A week drags by like a month.I force myself out of the apartment. Walk to the corner store for milk. Apply for new jobs online. Sketch a little—the lines come out shaky, dark.Everything feels gray.Grandma tries to keep things normal. She bakes too much, fills the fridge with cookies and pies. We eat dinner together every night, talk about old TV shows—anything but him.But I see her watching me when she thinks I’m not looking.Worried.One afternoon, the doorbell rings.It’s a delivery guy with a plain brown box. No return address. Just my name.I sign for it with numb hands.Grandma raises an eyebrow. “What’s that?”“I don’t know.”I take it to my room and close the door.Inside: my sketchbook.The one I left at his place.And a thick envelope.And a smaller one with my name in his handwriting.I open the sketchbook first.He’s added pages.Sketches of me.One of me asleep on his pillow, hair everywhere.One of me laughing on the couch, mouth open mid-bite of pizza.One of me in h

1 2 3 4 5 6

SCAN CODE TO READ ON APP