All Chapters of His Grades. Her Rules: Our Ruin: Chapter 11 - Chapter 15

Zira POVThe press conference was scheduled for 2 PM the next day.I stood in front of the bathroom mirror in my apartment, hands gripping the sink so tightly my knuckles turned white. My green eyes stared back at me — tired, determined, and terrified. The black dress I wore hugged every curve of my body: full breasts, soft waist, wide hips, and thick thighs. My long wavy black hair was loose today, cascading down my back like a shield. Professional armor had failed me. Now I would face the world as I truly was.Tristan stepped up behind me, tall and imposing. His hands slid around my waist, pulling my back against his chest. He was already dressed in a simple black button-down that stretched across his shoulders. His dark eyes met mine in the mirror.“You don’t have to do this,” he said quietly. “We can still run.”I shook my head. “No more running. They want the truth? They’ll get it.”His hand slid lower, cupping my ass possessively. “After this, you’re mine. Completely. No more hi

ZIRA POV I couldn’t breathe.Marcus Hale’s office smelled like aged leather and expensive cologne, the same scent that once made me feel safe. Now it choked me. Tristan stood rigid at my side, his hand a vise around mine, while Marcus sat behind his desk like a king on a throne, smug and victorious.“You should have come alone, Tristan,” Marcus said smoothly, eyes never leaving me. “But I suppose the boy wants to watch.”Tristan’s grip tightened painfully. “Say what you came to say before I break your jaw.”Marcus smiled and slid a tablet across the desk. He tapped play.The video was crystal clear. My office. The night after Tristan first fucked me on my desk. I was alone, skirt still hiked up, fingers buried between my thighs as I rubbed my clit frantically. My voice filled the room, broken and desperate.“Tristan… fuck, I’m so sorry… I need you… please…”I had cried while touching myself. The guilt, the shame, the overwhelming need for the student I had tried to destroy. The camer

ZIRA POV The sterile hospital room smelled of antiseptic and fear.I sat beside my father’s bed, clutching his hand as if letting go would make him slip away forever. His eyes fluttered open after hours of unconsciousness, weak but clear. The monitors beeped steadily, a small mercy after the chaos of the last twenty-four hours.“Zira…” His voice was raspy, barely above a whisper. “My strong girl. Always fighting the world.”Tears stung my green eyes. “Dad, I’m so sorry. The scandal… the videos… I never wanted any of this to touch you.”He squeezed my hand with surprising strength. “I saw the boy. Tristan. He carried me here like I weighed nothing. Looked at you like you were his whole world. That kind of love… it’s rare. Messy. But real.” He reached up with his free hand and pressed my mother’s old ring into my palm. “Take this. Wear it. Fight for what matters. Don’t let fear make you cruel again.”The words broke something open inside me. I cried quietly against his shoulder as he s