Novel & Cerita Deeper Than Hate Rivalry

More human than he had ever seemed before. More dangerous, too. Because some devils don’t scream when they stab you. They smile. And wait for you to crawl back first. — Next chapter teaser: Outside, the palace roared with news—Xavier was back. Inside, I slept through it all. With his scent in my lungs. And the storm brewing in his eyes. This was no longer just a game of hate. This was war. And I had no armor left but the warmth of the enemy.

I knew he wasn't just here to say congratulations, because if he was that's something actually new. “You ran well today,” Ryan added, casually like it didn’t cost him anything to say it taking a sip from his glass. “Yeah, I know,” I said, because I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of his feigned sincerity. Kyle whistled low. “And the rivalry continues.” That got a laugh from the team members, but Ryan didn’t even glance at them. He bit on his lips, his attention still locked on me, like the rest of the people here didn't matter.

She wanted to return all the valuable gifts he had bought for her over the years. She even claimed that she had rejected the scion, yet the latter kept pushing himself onto her and giving her expensive gifts, which she found annoying. Tiffany then praised Theo to the high heavens, calling him a diamond in the rough who would surely do better than the scion, who was still relying on his family. She also took the chance to insult me, calling me a hag whose skin sagged from giving birth to two children, and said that I wasn't worthy of him.

she whispered. 🌌 Final Emotional Anchor — The Meaning of Rival Hearts As twilight settled across the valley, Harper intertwined her fingers with Emery’s, resting her head against her shoulder the same way she had on their honeymoon years ago. “Do you ever regret how messy our beginning was?” Harper asked softly. Emery shook her head. “No,” she said firmly. “Because rivalry taught us strength. Conflict taught us honesty. And love taught us everything else.” Harper smiled, eyes reflecting lantern lights below.

*** At midnight, while I was on the bed playing games, my phone rang. It was Riven. It was the first time he had ever called me. I answered quickly, sitting up in bed. “Hey,” I said softly. There was a short pause before he spoke. “I’m sorry about what happened earlier,” Riven said, voice quiet. “Dex… he hates your team because of the rivalry and all that shit. He’s always been like that. I guess he doesn’t want any of the Bulls around you all.” I leaned back against the headboard. “Yeah, I get that. So, did he ask you why you were with me in the first place?”

The climax was explosive and devastating and transcendent, and Dimitri cried out because the pleasure was too much to contain. They lay tangled together, breathless and spent, and Dimitri rested his head on Nikolai's chest because he needed to hear his heartbeat, needed to feel that he was real. "I hate him," Dimitri said quietly. Nikolai pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I know." "I hate the way he looked at you, and I hate the way he touched you, and I hate that he has memories of you that I don't share." "He doesn't matter." Nikolai's voice was firm. "He never has because he was a distraction and a ghost from a life I left behind. You're the only one who matters."

Usually, the weight of the pads made me feel invincible. Today, they just felt like lead. ​I started toward the tunnel, the rhythmic clack-clack-clack of skates on the rubber matting filling the hallway. That’s when I saw him. ​Michael Rossi was leaning against the doorframe of the visitors' locker room. He didn’t play for us. He played for the State Rebels, our biggest rivals. Our school oversees two universities: Northwood and Westwood College. Even though both are under the same administration, the tension between them is fierce. Each has its own hockey team, and the rivalry between the Northwood Knights and the Westwood Rebels isn’t just about sports, it’s personal.

Agreeing to his strategy meant completely abandoning the pristine, calculated methodology my father had violently drilled into me since childhood. It meant crossing a massive legal and moral boundary, fully aligning myself with the Valez heir to protect a legacy my family had actively destroyed. I looked at his expressive face, the messy dark hair, and the fierce determination anchoring his posture. The inherited rivalry felt completely irrelevant compared to the visceral, magnetic pull anchoring me to this exact moment. "I am with you," I said with entire certainty. Dante’s lips formed into a lethal smile, the sheer approval in his expression sending another jolt of adrenaline straight thro

Whatever Halloran was planning, whatever his father might still attempt from the sidelines of a company he no longer controlled, Damian found he was no longer facing any of it entirely alone, and that fact alone changed the shape of every fight still ahead of him. The story became public knowledge in the way most things eventually did in Ashford's business circles, not through an official announcement but through the slow, inevitable seep of people who knew people, until by Friday it had become the kind of open secret that everyone acknowledged without anyone quite remembering how they'd first heard it. A gossip column in the city's business weekly ran three sentences about it under a headli

I flinched. "What? I never said I hated Layla." I argued, losing focus on these files. "You didn't need to. The fights. Banter. Show don't tell." "That was reciprocal." "Exactly. She hates you as well." "Why?" I asked, surprising myself. Another pause. "We can't like everyone, Big Brother. You know that." I ran my hands through my hair. I knew that. But Layla is different. It doesn't feel like hate at first sight. It's different.