All Chapters of MINE TO BULLY : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

*Jace's POV*The dean's office smelled like burnt coffeeMr. Delacroix was already standing when I walked in, not sitting behind his desk the way he usually did, which told me something before he'd even opened his mouth."Sit down, Jace.""What's going on?""Your father called the school directly. He needs you to leave campus immediately." He slid a folded piece of paper across the desk, and I recognized my father's handwriting on it even before I picked it up. "I don't know the details. I was just told it was urgent, and family related."My stomach twisted. "Is someone hurt?""He didn't say. Just that a car would be here in twenty minutes."I didn't wait to hear anything else. I grabbed my bag from where I'd dropped it by the door and walked out, phone already in hand, dialing my mother because something about the whole thing felt wrong in a way I couldn't name yet.She picked up on the first ring."Jace." Her voice was tight, controlled in the way it only got during actual crises, n

*Daniel's POV*My father was already watching the news when I walked downstairs, feet propped on the coffee table, a satisfied look on his face I recognized instantly and hated just as fast."There he is," he said, not looking away from the screen. "Come see this."I already knew what it was before I looked. Everyone at school had been texting me about it since seven in the morning, half of them asking if I'd known, the other half asking if I was okay, and I hadn't answered a single one of them because I didn't have an answer yet myself.The rooftop. Jace's hand on Ezra's jaw. The two of them, caught mid-kiss, plastered across every local channel with my father's campaign logo conveniently flashing in the corner of the broadcast every few seconds like a sponsor tag."You did this," I said."I didn't do anything. Someone sent our team a very useful piece of footage, and our media consultant decided the timing was right." He finally looked at me, something almost proud in his expression

The penthouse stands engulfed in absolute, suffocating silence. Ezra stares down at the glowing screen of his mobile phone, his reflection trapped in the dark glass. The incoming message from his father arrives like a swift physical blow to his ribs. Dinner tonight. Helen Vance will attend. Eros Cosmetics dominates the global market today, yet this high-end apartment feels completely hollow. Wealth brings zero comfort when ancestral bloodlines dictate every single move. He paces across polished hardwood flooring, his footsteps echoing in the empty expanse. Memories from half a decade ago flash through his mind without warning, refusing to stay buried. High school days feel like another lifetime entirely, a chaotic era of green hair, stolen glances, and a burning affection that ended in total destruction. He walks toward the dark mahogany desk near the floor-to-ceiling windows. A single polaroid rests beneath a heavy glass paperweight, protected from the dust of the outside world. Ja

Jace’s POVThe office smelled like fresh coffee and cut lumber samples, morning light pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows that had been the entire reason I’d taken this job five years ago. Ocean two blocks away. No noise except the occasional gull and Marcus humming something off-key in the kitchen behind me, a gentle, tuneless rhythm that usually anchored me.I loved this life. I’d built it carefully, piece by piece, the way you build anything you’re terrified of losing ... slow, deliberate, meticulous, leaving no room over for anything that might knock it down, no gaps where the past could crawl back in.“Breakfast,” Marcus called, sliding a plate across the kitchen island as I dropped onto the stool across from him, the smooth white quartz cool against my forearms.“You’re spoiling me.”“Someone has to. You’d survive on protein bars and stress otherwise.” He kissed the top of my head on his way to grab his own coffee, easy, familiar, the kind of gesture that didn’t require

Ezra’s POVThe glass of scotch in my hand was warm, heavy, and completely untouched. I hadn't tasted it. I hadn't tasted anything since the security guard on forty-one buzzed up ten minutes ago, her voice tight and rattled.“Uh, Mr. Monroe? You might want to check the lobby cameras. There was a guy up here. Refused to sign in. Took off before I could stop him.”I didn’t wait for her to finish. I didn't wait for the elevator. I took the stairwell three steps at a time, my lungs burning, suit jacket flying open as I threw my weight against the heavy glass doors of the lobby and burst out onto the sidewalk.Empty.Just the humid evening air, a yellow cab pulling away from the curb, and a blur of exhaust fumes hanging in the streetlights.A green jacket.The guard said he was wearing an olive-green field jacket. The exact shade of green I’d stared at across a backyard fence every single night for a year before everything caught fire.My hands were shaking. I dragged my phone out of my poc