All Chapters of My Enemy [BL]: Chapter 301 - Chapter 310

The morning after the Snow Ball, everything felt gray and heavy. It was one of those winter days where the light creeps through the curtains, making everything inside seem dull and worn out.I hadn’t really slept at all, just lay on top of the covers staring up at the ceiling fan as it spun in slow circles, replaying that courtyard scene over and over in my mind: Frank’s face twisting into a mix of betrayal and exhaustion, Rowan getting punched, the snow falling like it was trying to cover up what had just happened. Each time I shut my eyes, the images became sharper, so I kept them open until my vision blurred, and the room felt like it was moving around me.When the house finally started to wake up. Mom’s footsteps on the stairs and the distant clinking of coffee mugs, I locked my bedroom door. It was just a quiet click, but it felt louder in the silence.I really didn’t want to talk or explain anything, and I definitely didn’t want anyone looking at me with that concerned expressio

The moment I knocked on Millie’s door, it swung open as if she was already waiting there, her ear practically glued to the wood. There she was, decked out in baggy flannel pajama pants covered in tiny cartoon cats, and an old band tee that had definitely seen better days.Her hair was piled high in a messy bun, held up by what looked like a chopstick. No pastel makeup, no judgment, just Millie, exactly who I needed right now.Without asking what had happened or why I was standing on her porch with a duffel bag and red eyes at nine-thirty on a school night, she stepped forward and wrapped me in a hug that felt like it could keep all my shattered parts together, if only for a little while."You look like fucking trash," she said softly against my shoulder, her tone gentle enough not to hurt.I let out a watery laugh that came out more like a hiccup. "I feel worse."She squeezed me tightly once more before letting go just enough to shut the door behind us and guide me toward the stairs.

As I stepped through our front door, I couldn’t shake the feeling that our house was more like a museum than a home. The marble floors were polished to perfection, and those giant vases seemed like they could hide a body or at least a really embarrassing secret.I told myself I was just making a quick stop to grab some clothes and maybe those notebooks I left all over my desk for school. And yeah, I definitely wanted to fish out that snowflake charm I tucked away after the holidays because Millie wouldn’t stop teasing me about how ’sentimental’ it made me look.It was oddly quiet inside, the kind of silence that felt heavy, broken only by the hum of the air conditioning and some faint clinking of dishes in the kitchen where the maids were likely finishing up their afternoon chores.I figured no one else was around...Mom was at some spa retreat now she was the wife of a billionaire, and Roderick was usually buried in work or whatever shady stuff kept him out of sight.I hoped Rowan was

The cold air stung my lungs with every breath as I sprinted down the empty street toward Frank’s place. Each exhale burst into frantic white clouds that hung in the wintry night like ghosts I couldn’t escape. My sneakers slapped against the wet pavement, the noise echoing too loudly in the quiet neighborhood.My thoughts kept spiraling back to the study, Roderick’s calm voice saying the motel had been "handled," the casual way he referred to Frank as if he was just some minor inconvenience that could be sorted later. Each step felt heavier, weighed down by the sickening certainty that had settled in my chest the moment I slipped out of the house without a second glance.It wasn’t just that Roderick was suspicious anymore; he was right in the thick of it. Maybe he was the one who gave the order. Maybe he pulled the trigger himself. Either way, the man who smiled at charity dinners and called me his "stepson" in front of cameras and in the house had blood on his hands, and Frank...who d

The living room seemed even smaller in the dark, lit only by a single lamp on the side table that cast long, weary shadows on the worn hardwood floor. Snow still clung to the window edges from the last storm, glowing a faint blue under the streetlight outside, while inside, everything felt heavy and still.I perched on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on my knees, my hands clasped so tightly that my knuckles were starting to ache. Frank stood by the window, facing away from me, arms crossed over his chest as if he was trying to hold himself together.The silence between us wasn’t empty; it was thick and oppressive, echoing with every word I had just forced out of my mouth.He hadn’t said a thing for almost two full minutes after I finished telling him about the conversation in the study. Not a single question. No denial. Just that quiet, watchful stillness that made my skin crawl because I knew he was turning every syllable over in his mind, searching for cracks.Finally, he spok