Ruined By Design Novels & Stories

"Though one has to wonder about the long-term ROI of inheriting a legacy built on nostalgic designs rather than scalable infrastructure. Sentimentality is an expensive hobby." A sharp, electric spike of fury flared behind my ribs. My fingers tightened around the stem of my crystal water glass until my knuckles turned stark white, a sudden, ringing pain throbbing behind my temples as the stress migraine threatened to claw its way back. My father’s designs weren't nostalgic; they were revolutionary, drowned out only by corporate sabotage and malicious debt consolidation orchestrated by the very vultures sitting across from me. Before I could open my mouth to hurl a defense that would undoubted

Controlled. Focused. Because now— This wasn’t just a fracture. It was design. And whatever was shaping it— Had only just begun.

She turned away so he wouldn’t see her fall apart. He came up behind her but didn’t touch her. “I’m sorry.” The apology cracked in the middle. She nodded hard. “This is going to break us apart,” he continued, voice weak. “It’s going to destroy Dax. Your dad. Your mom. You. Your reputation. Everything.” She was crying openly now. She turned back to him, cheeks wet. “I understand.” He looked stunned. He’d expected a fight. Her usual challenging fire. “You do?”

She walked into the room without an introduction and put a photograph on the screen. A housing block in Chicago. 1960s, demolished in 2005. "Why did this fail?" she said. Twelve people offered answers. Structural deterioration. Funding cuts. Policy failure. Demographic concentration. She let everyone finish. "It failed because the people who designed it had never spent a night in a building like it," she said. "They designed for an idea of a person instead of an actual person." She looked around the room. "Everything we do this year starts from that. Whose experience are you designing for? Not who you imagine them to be. Who they actually are."

Trying to calm myself, my breath came in rapid, short gasps as the bathroom's walls seemed like they were closing in. The presentation was in two days. Two days. I was sure I’d left everything in order when I logged off last night. Every detail had been perfect, every color and line in place. And now… this. My design.. weeks of careful effort.. destroyed in a moment. How? I paused, gazed up at my reflection in the mirror. Could it be the same person? Just what have I done? Who the fuck is it? Fuck, Damn it! I cried. What the heck was going on?

"Because if you can’t, Linda wins. And she doesn’t just win the money; she wins the final destruction of the Julliard name. And my baby inherits nothing but a legal disaster.” Axel looked defeated, utterly stripped of his usual arrogant certainty. He walked to the center of the room, running his hand through his hair. “No,” he admitted, the word a terrible, quiet admission of failure. “I don’t. The buyer is state-backed. The sale is irreversible. The prototype will go into production within a week. We’re too late. The only thing left to save is your life.” He stared at the red screens, then back at me. “And there’s worse. The design is fundamentally flawed. Not the stable version Linda sold,

The guilt stayed. I crawled into bed. Sofia’s breathing was even across the hall. I stared at the ceiling. Tomorrow. We’d end it tomorrow. But deep down, I knew. We wouldn’t. We couldn’t. The ruin had already begun. And it felt too good to stop.

That maybe, just maybe, he would love me again. But when I saw the designs he planned to launch… I was shocked. No— disappointed. Deeply. The designs were awful. Unattractive. Outdated. I almost cursed out whoever designed them. I couldn’t believe Scott thought these could save Noir Elixir. That he believed this would impress investors, buyers, or anyone at all.

"But we’re not very good at being 'Masterpieces.' We’re a work in progress." The Architects pulsed with a confused, rhythmic light. "You would choose the Ruin? You would choose the 'Solar System' that tried to delete you?" "The Ruin is where we left our mistakes," Leo explained. "And our mistakes are the only things that belong to us. If you give us perfection, you’re just finishing the job the Auditor started. You’re making us predictable." The Rebellion of the Ordinary Leo reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, jagged piece of the Mercury-Shard he had kept since the hunt in the subway. It was dull, ugly, and sharp.

Author’s note: Ruined(Eternal Monarch) contains details of the following subjects: Abuse, loss, trauma, suicide. Recovery from trauma and emotional relapse. If you are easily triggered by any of the following mentioned subjects. Do not read ahead for your mental health. Throughout the novel, there are a lot of strong languages. If you are not comfortable with all the foregoing, please do not enter. This is not a novel for the faint of heart. There are numerous triggers in the book.