All Chapters of The Don’s Ruin: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

POV: Seraphina --- The whispers followed me out of the courtyard. Four years of "Did you see what she's wearing?" and "Her braces are so ugly." Four years of being the punchline to jokes I wasn't even invited to hear. Four years of making myself small so they'd notice me less. But they noticed anyway. They always noticed. And now, as I walked through the stone corridors of Blackthorn Academy, still wearing Damian Blackthorn's jacket, I could hear them. "Is that Seraphina? Still wearing his jacket?" "Why would Damian even look at her? She's nothing." I kept walking. My heels clicked against the marble floor. Click. Click. Click. Each step a declaration. Each step a middle finger to everyone who'd made me feel small. I passed the classroom. I could still see the ghost of myself in there. The girl with braces, with her head down, with her clothes two sizes too big. The girl who'd spent four years trying to disappear. I'd killed her last night in the mirror. I'd killed her with blon

POV: Seraphina --- But I just stood there. Frozen. I couldn't look away. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. Damian Blackthorn was pressed against the wall, his head tilted back, his eyes squeezed shut. His shirt was unbuttoned, hanging open to reveal the hard planes of his chest—the sharp lines of muscle, the subtle sheen of sweat on his skin. His hand was wrapped around his throbbing cock, stroking with a rhythm that was both practiced and desperate. It was thick. Thicker than I'd imagined a man could be-or maybe it was just him. The head was flushed, almost angry looking, and there was something wet glistening at the tip. His hand moved in a rhythm that made my thighs clench instinctively. He was stroking himself with a desperation that made me feel like a voyeur, like I was seeing something I shouldn't see, something private and sacred and— And his other hand held a picture. MY picture. He was masturbating to my picture. The heir of Family No. 1. The boy everyone feared. T

--- POV: Seraphina --- I broke the moment. I couldn't let him see too much. Couldn't let him get too close. I reached down, grabbed my ruined skirt, and started walking toward my locker. My legs were shaking. My thighs were slick with his cum and my own blood. Every step sent a fresh wave of pain and pleasure through my body. But I didn't stop. "Seraphina." His voice was rough. Confused. He didn't understand why I was walking away. I didn't care. I reached my locker. The metal was cold against my palm. The combination lock spun under my fingers—years of muscle memory guiding me through the numbers. 14-27-09. The day I'd first been bullied. The day I'd learned to disappear. I pulled it open. The locker was small. Cramped. But it held everything I needed. Fresh clothes. A clean pair of panties. A spare bra. A change of shoes. Years of being humiliated had taught me to be prepared. "Seraphina, wait—" I could hear him behind me. Trying to stand. Trying to come after me

POV: Seraphina --- The doors of Blackthorn Academy swung shut behind me. I didn't look back. I couldn't. If I looked back, I'd see the stone walls that had held me captive for years. I'd see the courtyard where they'd laughed at me. Drenched me in fake blood. Ripped my clothes. I'd see the statue where I'd stripped myself bare. The statue where I buried my shame. And I'd see the hallway. The abandoned hallway where I'd given myself to a boy I'd never spoken to. A boy who'd watched me secretly for years. Who had masturbated to my face, probably a lot. A boy who'd taken my virginity like he was claiming something that had always been his. Something, like every other thing he owned. Aggressively like he was used to. His birthright. My body. I kept walking. The sun was warm on my skin. The air smelled like spring. I was experiencing warm feelings like never before. The world was still spinning, still alive, still moving forward. And so was I. I walked through the courtyard. Studen

(FLASHBACK) POV: Seraphina --- Two years earlier. The casting office smelled like stale coffee and desperation. I sat in the waiting room, my back straight, my hands folded in my lap. Around me, other actresses flipped through scripts, whispered lines to themselves, adjusted their makeup. They were all beautiful. All hungry. All convinced that this role would change their lives. I was no different. Midnight Shadows. A psychological thriller about a woman who escapes an abusive relationship and builds a new life. The role was perfect. The role was me. I just couldn't tell anyone why. "Seraphina Blackwood?" I stood. My legs were shaking. My heart was pounding. I'd done dozens of auditions in the past year, but this one felt different. This one felt like it mattered. The audition room was cold. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead. Three people sat behind a long table—the director, the producer, and the casting agent. They all looked tired. They all looked like they'd seen a thousan