All Chapters of The Game of Breaking Bones: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The laughter from inside the suite cut right through the heavy wooden door.Julian's friends held crystal champagne flutes, their voices dripping with contempt and flattery."Julian, that trick was absolutely brilliant. Slapping on a fake cast, pretending to be crippled, hiding out in the slums. And that girl -- what's her name, Lily? -- that orphan actually believed you gave up a billion-dollar fortune for her. She's been washing dishes at some hole-in-the-wall restaurant every day just to support you."Julian let out a soft laugh. His slender fingers brushed a strand of hair behind Victoria's ear, and his eyes held a tenderness I'd never once seen. It was a look he would never, ever show me in that basement apartment."If I didn't find some gullible fool to take the fall, how was I supposed to fool the old man? She didn’t deserve to make me break my leg."Victoria nestled into his arms with a coy pout, her voice dripping with contempt."So are you going back to that moldy little apar

I climbed into the black Bentley the Holloway family had sent and opened my phone, logging into a private online forum.The forum was exclusive to the city's most elite socialites. I had access only because the Holloways had activated all my top-tier privileges after confirming my identity.A pinned post on the front page was surging with activity. The title read: *The Golden Boy Returns -- Victoria Sterling Secures Her Throne.*I tapped the post. Inside were photos and videos from last night at The Grand Pavilion.In the video, Julian knelt on one knee, sliding a ring onto Victoria's finger. Victoria threw herself into his arms, blushing.The comments section was on fire.Someone asked: *What happened to that scholarship girl he used as a shield? I heard she worked illegal shifts at a chemical plant for three years trying to fix his leg. Wrecked her health completely.*Victoria Sterling's own account replied directly: *Just a cheap little tool. Julian says she's too clingy -- getting

The black Rolls-Royce Phantom glided into The Belmont Grand Hotel's private underground VIP tunnel.The elevator went straight to the top-floor ballroom.The dazzling glow of crystal chandeliers filled the hall; the delicate sound of a violin drifted through the air. Every person of note in the city stood holding champagne flutes, mingling and murmuring.My arrival plunged the noisy hall into instant silence.Mr. Pemberton walked a half-step ahead, pushing open the heavy carved wooden doors for me.Richard Ashford -- Julian's father and the current head of the Ashford family -- stood at the center of the ballroom, wearing a plastered-on smile. The moment he saw Pemberton, he rushed over, his posture hunched, practically groveling."Mr. Pemberton, you're finally here. Chairman Holloway, is he--" Richard's words died mid-sentence as his gaze fell on me. He noticed the heirloom emerald necklace -- the mark of the Holloway heir -- around my neck. A flicker of confusion crossed his eyes, bu

Rain poured down in sheets. The night was thick and dark.Ashford Corporation officially entered bankruptcy liquidation. Richard Ashford was taken away by the police on charges of corporate fraud. Every mansion, every luxury car bearing the Ashford name was seized by court order.Julian Ashford, drenched to the bone, stumbled his way to the black wrought-iron gates of the Holloway estate.Wind and rain lashed his face -- the face that had once radiated invincibility. He carried no umbrella. His clothes clung to his frame. His knees buckled, and with a heavy thud, he dropped straight down into the mud outside the gates."Lily! Please -- just let me see you!" His hands gripped the iron bars as he screamed into the rain-soaked darkness, toward the brightly lit mansion beyond.The security guards stood impassively inside the gatehouse. No one acknowledged him.Julian knelt in the downpour the entire night. By dawn, the rain had eased slightly.I sat on the sofa in the great hall, sipping w

The iron door screeched open.Julian walked inside. The air still reeked of mildew.The place was cold and empty. On the table sat the bowl of pasta, now rancid and spotted with mold. Beside it was the deflated, rock-hard little cake, and beneath it -- the Grand Pavilion receipt for $2,300,000.Julian walked to the table and dropped to his knees.He reached out with trembling hands and picked up the bowl of spoiled food. He didn't hesitate. He shoveled the rotten pasta into his mouth in huge, desperate mouthfuls.The gag reflex brought tears streaming down his face. Bile mixed with the decomposed food and leaked from the corners of his mouth. But he didn't stop. He kept chewing, kept swallowing, forcing it all down. He was trying, through this act of self-inflicted cruelty, to recover the last trace of me that still lingered in this room.When the bowl was empty, he dropped to the floor and searched beneath the bed.He pulled out a dust-covered cardboard box. Inside was a thick diary a