🔥💔They betrayed me, and when I was left for dead, a stranger saved me. Now, the man who cheated thinks he still has a chance—he’s wrong. I’m marrying someone else.💣💥 Chapter 1 "Your father arranged a marriage for you years ago. Now that your health’s stabilized… will you go through with it?" I didn’t hesitate. "Yes," I said, my voice flat. "Tell Father to prepare the paperwork. And make sure the wedding isn’t tacky. I’m not here for romance. I’m here to win." My mother didn’t flinch at my tone. She agreed, offered a few suggestions, and I gave her a list of my own before hanging up. It was supposed to be Lavenia’s birthday. One weekend on Jacob’s yacht. Glitter, champagne, fake smiles. Instead, I watched her kiss my boyfriend. Jacob. Upper deck. Frosting on her cheek. His hands on her waist. His brother, Luther—who used to be like a big brother to me—handing her a towel like this wasn’t betrayal in HD. Lavenia. My best friend. My ride-or-die since age nine. She used to braid my hair and swear she’d never touch what was mine. Now she’s licking cake off Jacob’s fingers like it’s foreplay. And Jacob? The man who bled for me. Who once called me his future. He didn’t even flinch when I walked past. Didn’t blink. I didn’t cry. Didn’t scream. I just came downstairs. Sea air thick in my lungs. Heart dead quiet. Sat on the velvet lounge sofa tucked into the yacht’s lower deck suite and called my mother. Because if I want revenge, I need power. And power doesn’t come from tears. A few minutes later, I heard designer heels tapping on the staircase. Then a knock on my cabin door. “Pearl?” a sugary voice chimed. I didn’t answer. She pushed the door open anyway. Lavenia waltzed in like she owned the yacht, carrying a Black Forest cake with one candle stuck dead center. Her makeup was flawless—glossy lips, fluttery lashes—but there were a few smudges of whipped cream on her cheek. Deliberate. Always. “Pearl, will you come upstairs? Everyone’s asking about you.” Her tone was sweet, eyes wide like some Disney deer. But I’d seen her fangs too many times. “No,” I said flatly, not even turning around. “I have work.” A flicker of something crossed her face. Disappointment? No. Calculation. “You don’t like me,” she said softly. “That’s why you’re always avoiding me.” I raised an eyebrow. “Are we doing this again?” She blinked rapidly, like she was about to cry on cue. And maybe she was. I’d seen her pull this routine on Jacob a thousand times. “I’m not in the mood, Lavenia. Save the performance for your fan club.” I moved toward the door. She stepped back—then suddenly stumbled, gasping as the cake flew from her hands and smashed across her chest, rich chocolate and whipped cream splattering like a crime scene. Right on cue, Jacob and Luther appeared at the top of the staircase like trained guard dogs. They rushed toward her, shoving past me like I didn’t exist. “Lavi! Oh my god—what happened?” Jacob’s voice was tight, eyes locked on her frosting-smeared dress. “She shoved me,” Lavenia whimpered, clutching the ruined cake like it was a mortal wound. “I was just trying to bring her something sweet. For old times. She—she pushed it into me.” I stared at her, stunned. “What?” “She what?” Luther’s eyes blazed. “Pearl, what the hell is wrong with you?” “I didn’t touch her,” I snapped. “She dropped it herself. You all saw nothing but you're ready to believe this?” Jacob didn’t even glance my way. He was too busy dabbing frosting off Lavenia’s shoulder like it was acid. “Lavi, does it hurt?” he murmured. She sniffled and leaned into his chest. “Just a little. It’s okay… I shouldn’t have bothered her. She hates me now.” “You were her best friend,” Luther said, glaring at me. “You were like sisters. She always called you her only real friend. And this is how you treat her? Because you're jealous?” Jealous. I laughed—quiet, bitter. “You two belong in a soap opera. All that’s missing is a coma and a fake baby.” Jacob turned, jaw clenched. “You’re going to apologize." I blinked. “Excuse me?” “You heard me,” he said, voice low and furious. “Apologize to Lavenia. Now.” I stared him down, arms crossed. “No.” His eyes narrowed. “Then forget about the wedding we planned. You don’t apologize by tomorrow, I’m not proposing to you next month. Consider it off the table.” Silence snapped tight between us. Luther scoffed behind him. “You still wanna marry her, bro? Her true colors are showing now. What a waste. If I were you, I’d never marry a woman like her.” I tilted my head slowly, eyes locked on him. “That’s why no one ever would,” I said, voice like satin over steel. Luther flushed. Jacob's jaw ticked. Lavenia looked positively radiant, loving every second of the chaos she brewed. Then I turned toward the side railing to head back inside—but Jacob’s hand gripped my wrist. I barely had time to blink before he shoved me. Over the rail. Into the sea. Splash. The cold hit me like knives. My lungs clenched. The darkness swallowed me whole. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream. Help. My hands flailed above the surface, mouth gasping, choking on salt and panic. The water dragged at me like an anchor. I didn’t know how to swim. They knew that. “Pearl?!” Lavenia’s voice rang out behind me, loud and dramatic. “Somebody help—Pearl doesn’t know how to swim!” But it wasn’t panic. It was a performance. “Let her be,” Jacob said coolly, standing above like a god with no mercy. “That’s for bullying you. She's pain in the ass and maybe she’ll learn something after this.” I couldn’t even gasp anymore. I sank. That’s when I felt arms break through the water—strong, foreign, unfamiliar. A hand wrapped around my waist. The pull of the surface returned. A stranger’s voice, low and steady. “I’ve got you.” I coughed violently as my head broke above water. Chapter 2 The yacht docked at port just after dawn. No one said a word to me. Not Jacob. Not Luther. Not even Lavenia, who had cried so hard last night I almost believed her. Almost. I stepped off the deck in silence, soaked to the marrow with salt and humiliation, my skin still chilled from nearly drowning—and not just in water. Jacob had pushed me. Straight into the dark waves. And he hadn’t even flinched. “That's what you get,” he’d said afterward. “For being jealous. For acting like the world owes you something.” Not a sorry. Not a hand offered. Not even a glance of regret. And when that stranger dove in, dragging me back to the dock—he vanished like mist. No name. No thanks. Just a blur in the crowd. A ghost in human form. I stumbled back to the apartment alone. Shaking. Done. The second I stepped inside, I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I packed. Drawers opened. Suitcases filled. Clothes. Passports. Hard drives. The necklace my grandmother gave me. Anything worth keeping—anything untouched by them—was coming with me. I was folding my last coat when my phone buzzed. A message from Lavenia. Not even pretending to be subtle this time. “Hey Pearl~ Check out my Insta! New pics!” The nerve. I tapped the screen, already knowing what I’d see. There she was again—crowned and smug. Draped in one of my silk robes, the pink one from Milan I’d left on the yacht. Jacob beside her, shirtless, half-asleep, his arm around her and his nose nearly grazing her almost exposed breast. Luther on her other side, holding her like she was some kind of queen. A queen of snakes. Caption: “Best night ever with my fav boys. Thanks for making my birthday unforgettable. I loved every whip and bit of cream you gave me. ” “And guess what, Pearl? Jacob gave me your brand-new car. Said it was his money anyway, and the color suits me better. But don’t worry—I’ll let you borrow it… if you say please.” Then she posted my car on her insta. I just laughed. I tapped the little heart under her post, let it turn red, and tossed my phone on the bed. Tomorrow, I’d be gone. And when I left, I wasn’t taking ghosts with me. *** I submitted my resignation at the firm that afternoon, handed it in with a smile and shook a few hands like I wasn’t dismantling my entire life. When I got back to the apartment, it was time for the final cut. I dragged out a worn leather box from under the bed—heavy with memories and promises. Inside were the tokens of my past with them, each one a shard of what we used to be. Jacob’s silver necklace, delicate and engraved with a secret phrase only we ever knew. Luther’s old cigarette lighter, battered and cold, but still weighted with memories of smoky nights and whispered secrets. The cracked glass of Jacob’s luxury watch, frozen in time, ticking no more. I pulled out the crumpled love letters Jacob had written me when I was sixteen—folded poems hidden away, words I’d believed once were forever. Alongside them, notes from Luther—carefully folded, tucked beneath my door during sleepless nights at college. There was the leather jacket Jacob promised would be mine forever, its worn sleeves smelling faintly of his cologne. Luther’s dented motorcycle helmet, the one we’d joked about racing across the countryside with. And the tiny music box that played our song—the one we all loved—now silent and gathering dust. Click. Flame. I set the edge of the leather jacket alight first. It curled, blackening quickly. I tossed in the letters, the necklace, the lighter, the watch. Each item caught fire, the flames licking hungrily at the remnants of us. By the time Jacob burst into the room, half my past was already ash. “Pearl—what the fuck are you doing?!” His voice cracked, eyes wild. I didn’t flinch. “Getting rid of mold.” “Bullshit!” He stepped closer, desperation in his voice. “These aren’t just things. They’re our memories.” Luther followed, eyes darting to the burning pile. He lunged to grab the map but yelped when the flames bit at his fingers. “You’re insane. You just destroyed everything we had.” I met his gaze, cold and steady. “You gave my car to Lavenia. She gets the gifts, she can keep the memories too.” “You’re really doing this? Are you still not done throwing tantrums? You ruined her birthday last night with your immaturity.” I smiled, bitter and calm. “Yeah. I’m done. This is the last time… you’ll ever see me.” They watched the smoke curl up to the ceiling, the ashes settling like the end of us. Funny how they almost burned the city down for Lavenia’s fake tears—but when I was breaking apart, not one of them asked why. Now, they cried over what was left in flames. Chapter 3 Jacob and Luther didn’t give up that easily. After seeing the photos burn, they tried to patch things up—two lost boys grasping at a thread. “Come on, Pearl,” Jacob said, rubbing the back of his neck like he was about to confess to a crime. “Let’s go out to dinner. Our treat.” Luther nodded, voice softer than usual. “Yeah. Our favorite restaurant. Let's go there. Please. Just one dinner. Let us make it right.” I said nothing but nodded. Inside, I already knew it would be our last night together. We rode in Jacob’s sleek black car, the silence thick and awkward like static between us. Then Luther’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and grimaced. “It’s Lavenia.” I heard the panic in his voice as he answered. “Lavenia? What’s wrong?” Her high-pitched voice shattered the quiet. “The power’s out... someone broke into the house. I’m so scared—there’s a thief. Please, come quick!” Jacob’s jaw tightened. He glanced at me and then back to Luther. “Pearl, get out.” “What?” I blinked, stunned. “We’ll be back after we check on Lavenia,” Jacob said sharply. “You can’t come with us.” Before I could argue, they opened the door and shoved me out onto the dark, wet street. Rain immediately soaked my hair and clothes. They didn’t even wait for me to reach shelter before speeding off, red taillights bleeding into the storm. I just stood there a moment, soaked to the bone, mascara bleeding like betrayal. Then I smiled. Bitter and clean. Because now I knew—this wasn’t the last dinner. This was the funeral feast. And they didn’t even realize they’d been attending their own eulogy. *** I kicked off my heels three blocks in. They were satin, too slippery in the rain, and my toes were already blistered. I held them by the straps as I walked barefoot down the soaked pavement, dress clinging to my skin, hair stuck to my neck, every breath colder than the last. No taxi stopped. Not one. They saw me, I know they did. Drivers slowed, took one look at the drenched girl limping through the dark, and sped up like I was a ghost they didn’t want to deal with. I didn’t cry. Not then. I turned into an alley I thought was a shortcut, thinking maybe if I just cut through to the main road I’d catch a cab or a bus or even collapse near a streetlamp like some poetic wreck. But the shortcut had teeth. He stepped out from behind a dumpster, face shadowed and hoodie soaked through. I saw the glint of the knife too late, felt the rough shove of his hand before I even registered what he said. Something about a wallet, maybe my bag, maybe my phone. I didn’t care. I fought back anyway. I punched and clawed and screamed until my throat broke open, and that’s when he stabbed me. Once in the gut, then again lower, and a third time when I tried to crawl away. The pain was sharp and hot and then cold, so cold it stole my breath. I remember falling. I remember the way the pavement kissed my cheek like a farewell. And then I remember headlights. A door slamming. Someone shouting my name. Arms lifting me. I tried to speak, tried to tell them to call my aunt, tell her I’m sorry, tell her I won’t be able to bring those cookies after all. But my lips didn’t move. My vision blurred into static. Then I saw him. That face. Him. The same stranger who had jumped into the ocean during Lavenia’s birthday party. The same man who pulled me out of the freezing water when Jacob pushed me from the yacht deck “by accident.” I thought I hallucinated him that night. I thought maybe the sea gave me an angel. But he was real. He looked down at me as I bled through his white dress shirt, cradled in his arms, soaked from rain and blood and regret. “Stay with me, Pearl,” he said, voice deep and calm and commanding. “You’re not dying tonight. Not like this.” “Who… are you?” I think I whispered. He gave the ghost of a smile. “Sebastian.” Then he vanished again. Not in smoke or light, but in the clean, cruel way people like him do—when a secretary called his name and he slipped from the hospital room without asking for thanks. I stayed there for a week. Tubes in my arms, stitches in my stomach, silence in my soul. No visitors. No calls. Not even my mom—I told the nurses not to tell her. What was the point? I needed to lie still and feel it. The death of whatever part of me still hoped someone would come. And then on the day I was discharged, still pale and in a hospital gown, they appeared. Lavenia was on a stretcher, bleeding from her arms, wrists wrapped in soaked gauze, mascara smeared across her perfect porcelain face. She wailed like a siren. Jacob held her hand, whispering something soft, and Luther was right behind, holding her bag like a loyal mule. I stood in the corridor and they passed me. And they froze. Jacob blinked like he saw a corpse. Luther looked like he’d been sucker-punched. Pearl? That was all Jacob said. I looked at them both, then down at the IV tape still on my hand. I hadn’t even changed yet. The nurses were packing my things. I was supposed to go home. Instead, I met them. “You’re here?” Luther asked, voice hollow. “You were in the hospital?” Jacob stepped forward, reaching, but I stepped back. I laughed. Not loud. Not crazy. Just broken. “You didn’t even know,” I said quietly, “I was here for a week. Fighting to live. And none of you even noticed I was gone.” Their mouths opened but no words came out. And behind them, Lavenia screamed again, stealing all their attention. Of course she did. And once again, they turned toward her. And once again, I walked away. This time barefoot. This time bleeding inside. This time—free. Chapter 4 The apartment was still dark when I arrived. No lights. No warmth. Just stale air and the faint scent of something rotting in the sink. I didn’t bother flipping the switch. I dropped my bag by the door and kicked it shut behind me, each step echoing too loudly in the silence. I didn’t even change. The hospital gown was thin under my hoodie, but I didn’t care. I collapsed onto the couch face-first, arms dangling over the side like I was boneless. The fabric scratched against my bandages, but exhaustion won. Sleep wasn’t kind. It never is when your dreams know the truth before your mouth does. Hours passed. I woke up groggy and sore, blinking into the darkness, and then I heard it. Clattering. From the kitchen. I sat up slowly, my body heavy and cold and aching, and I padded toward the sound with bare feet. I thought maybe I was imagining things, that maybe I had left the TV on or someone was breaking in, but when I turned the corner, I saw them. Jacob was at the stove, grilling steak. Luther stood by the counter, chopping vegetables with precise, clean movements. The table was already set—plates, cutlery, glasses, even a folded napkin at each seat. They both looked up when they saw me standing there. Jacob was the first to speak. “We thought you were at your aunt’s,” he said, like that explained everything. “We didn’t want to disturb you.” Luther looked guilty, eyes flicking down to his knife and then back to me. “We didn’t know you were in the hospital,” he said, voice low. I didn’t answer. I just walked in and sat down at the table. I didn’t touch the food. Jacob frowned and turned off the stove. “You have to eat. You just got discharged.” I looked at him then. Cold. Clear. “You didn’t check on me for a week.” The silence that followed was loud enough to split bone. No one moved. No one breathed. Then the doorbell rang. Jacob and Luther both turned toward it, and Luther moved first, walking quickly to open the door. Lavenia stood there. She was pale and fragile, her wrists wrapped in clean bandages hidden beneath the sleeves of a delicate blouse, and she looked like a porcelain doll that had cracked but hadn’t shattered yet. The moment they saw her, they moved. Jacob rushed to her and picked her up like she weighed nothing, carrying her in his arms and laying her gently down on the couch. “You shouldn’t be out,” he whispered, brushing the hair from her face. “What if something happens to you?” “I was alone in the hospital room,” she said, looking up at Jacob with those wide, doe eyes. “And I kept thinking what if I never woke up again? What if I opened my eyes and no one was there? I panicked. I didn’t want to be alone tonight.” Jacob softened immediately and moved toward her, but she raised a hand weakly. “If it’s too much, I can go back,” she whispered. “Really. I didn’t mean to be a burden.” “Hey, hey, no,” Jacob murmured, voice full of worry. “You’re not a burden, okay? You should’ve called sooner. We’ll take care of you.” Luther hovered behind Jacob and said, “We’ll go back to the hospital after we check on Pearl. Then we’ll stay with you tonight.” I didn’t speak. I just picked up my fork and started eating. The steak was dry and overdone and still pink in the center, and I hated every bite. I chewed like it was cardboard, like it was ashes, and I kept eating anyway because I didn’t want them to see me stop. He made steak. My least favorite. They didn’t even remember. I forced out a laugh—small and bitter and almost invisible—and swallowed it down with a sip of water. Jacob and Luther were setting a place at the table for her now, helping her sit up and encouraging her to eat like she was made of glass. She took their attention like it was her birthright, and every so often she glanced at me with eyes that said you lost. And then my phone buzzed. I glanced at it and saw the name: Mom. She’d sent me over a dozen photos of wedding dresses—lace and silk and heavy beading, dramatic trains and cathedral veils, each more extravagant than the last. I scrolled through them with numb fingers, pausing on the third one—a satin off-the-shoulder gown with a cinched waist and cascading ruffles. I tapped the call button before I could change my mind. She picked up on the third ring, her voice warm and full of anticipation. “Pearl, did you get the dresses? I think the third one would suit you best. But if your fiancé prefers white—” “I love the third,” I said quickly, and this time I made sure my voice was light, even cheerful. “It’s perfect. I can already picture it. I’m really… excited.” She paused, maybe surprised by the change in my tone. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad. I knew you'd love it once you really looked. You always liked the more classic silhouettes.” I nodded even though she couldn’t see me and forced a small laugh. “Yeah. I think it’ll be beautiful. I’m really looking forward to the WEDDING.” There was a flicker of movement across the room. I didn’t look up. “How much longer do you need over there?” she asked. “Just a week. I’ll finish up and be home.” “Good. Everything here’s almost ready.” I hung up and set the phone down on the table, and that’s when I felt it—that silence that isn’t empty, but heavy. Like breath being held. I looked up. Jacob and Luther were staring at me. Lavenia had frozen where she sat, a fork suspended halfway to her mouth. Her expression was still soft, still wounded, but her eyes had gone sharp. Jacob was the first to move. He stepped away from Lavenia and crossed the room in seconds, voice cutting. “Wedding?” Luther followed close behind, brows furrowed, jaw tight. “What wedding?” #LoveAndLies #SecondChance #Betrayal #LoveTriangle #RevengeAndRedemption 📚Only a limited number of chapters can be displayed here. Click "Read More" to open the application and continue reading (it will automatically navigate to the corresponding book page).👇👇👇
😭💔My best friend kissed my boyfriend. He shoved me into the ocean. I nearly drowned. A stranger pulled me out. They spent the night celebrating. I spent a week alone in ICU. Today, I packed my past and burned it. Letters. Gifts. Eight years of lies. Mom called with wedding plans. I said yes. Jacob just overheard. "What wedding?" he asked. 👋The one you'll never attend. --------------------------------------------------- "Your father arranged a marriage for you years ago. Now that your health’s stabilized… will you go through with it?" I didn’t hesitate. "Yes," I said, my voice flat. "Tell Father to prepare the paperwork. And make sure the wedding isn’t tacky. I’m not here for romance. I’m here to win." My mother didn’t flinch at my tone. She agreed, offered a few suggestions, and I gave her a list of my own before hanging up. It was supposed to be Lavenia’s birthday. One weekend on Jacob’s yacht. Glitter, champagne, fake smiles. Instead, I watched her kiss my boyfriend. Jacob. Upper deck. Frosting on her cheek. His hands on her waist. His brother, Luther—who used to be like a big brother to me—handing her a towel like this wasn’t betrayal in HD. Lavenia. My best friend. My ride-or-die since age nine. She used to braid my hair and swear she’d never touch what was mine. Now she’s licking cake off Jacob’s fingers like it’s foreplay. And Jacob? The man who bled for me. Who once called me his future. He didn’t even flinch when I walked past. Didn’t blink. I didn’t cry. Didn’t scream. I just came downstairs. Sea air thick in my lungs. Heart dead quiet. Sat on the velvet lounge sofa tucked into the yacht’s lower deck suite and called my mother. Because if I want revenge, I need power. And power doesn’t come from tears. A few minutes later, I heard designer heels tapping on the staircase. Then a knock on my cabin door. “Pearl?” a sugary voice chimed. I didn’t answer. She pushed the door open anyway. Lavenia waltzed in like she owned the yacht, carrying a Black Forest cake with one candle stuck dead center. Her makeup was flawless—glossy lips, fluttery lashes—but there were a few smudges of whipped cream on her cheek. Deliberate. Always. “Pearl, will you come upstairs? Everyone’s asking about you.” Her tone was sweet, eyes wide like some Disney deer. But I’d seen her fangs too many times. “No,” I said flatly, not even turning around. “I have work.” A flicker of something crossed her face. Disappointment? No. Calculation. “You don’t like me,” she said softly. “That’s why you’re always avoiding me.” I raised an eyebrow. “Are we doing this again?” She blinked rapidly, like she was about to cry on cue. And maybe she was. I’d seen her pull this routine on Jacob a thousand times. “I’m not in the mood, Lavenia. Save the performance for your fan club.” I moved toward the door. She stepped back—then suddenly stumbled, gasping as the cake flew from her hands and smashed across her chest, rich chocolate and whipped cream splattering like a crime scene. Right on cue, Jacob and Luther appeared at the top of the staircase like trained guard dogs. They rushed toward her, shoving past me like I didn’t exist. “Lavi! Oh my god—what happened?” Jacob’s voice was tight, eyes locked on her frosting-smeared dress. “She shoved me,” Lavenia whimpered, clutching the ruined cake like it was a mortal wound. “I was just trying to bring her something sweet. For old times. She—she pushed it into me.” I stared at her, stunned. “What?” “She what?” Luther’s eyes blazed. “Pearl, what the hell is wrong with you?” “I didn’t touch her,” I snapped. “She dropped it herself. You all saw nothing but you're ready to believe this?” Jacob didn’t even glance my way. He was too busy dabbing frosting off Lavenia’s shoulder like it was acid. “Lavi, does it hurt?” he murmured. She sniffled and leaned into his chest. “Just a little. It’s okay… I shouldn’t have bothered her. She hates me now.” “You were her best friend,” Luther said, glaring at me. “You were like sisters. She always called you her only real friend. And this is how you treat her? Because you're jealous?” Jealous. I laughed—quiet, bitter. “You two belong in a soap opera. All that’s missing is a coma and a fake baby.” Jacob turned, jaw clenched. “You’re going to apologize." I blinked. “Excuse me?” “You heard me,” he said, voice low and furious. “Apologize to Lavenia. Now.” I stared him down, arms crossed. “No.” His eyes narrowed. “Then forget about the wedding we planned. You don’t apologize by tomorrow, I’m not proposing to you next month. Consider it off the table.” Silence snapped tight between us. Luther scoffed behind him. “You still wanna marry her, bro? Her true colors are showing now. What a waste. If I were you, I’d never marry a woman like her.” I tilted my head slowly, eyes locked on him. “That’s why no one ever would,” I said, voice like satin over steel. Luther flushed. Jacob's jaw ticked. Lavenia looked positively radiant, loving every second of the chaos she brewed. Then I turned toward the side railing to head back inside—but Jacob’s hand gripped my wrist. I barely had time to blink before he shoved me. Over the rail. Into the sea. Splash. The cold hit me like knives. My lungs clenched. The darkness swallowed me whole. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream. Help. My hands flailed above the surface, mouth gasping, choking on salt and panic. The water dragged at me like an anchor. I didn’t know how to swim. They knew that. “Pearl?!” Lavenia’s voice rang out behind me, loud and dramatic. “Somebody help—Pearl doesn’t know how to swim!” But it wasn’t panic. It was a performance. “Let her be,” Jacob said coolly, standing above like a god with no mercy. “That’s for bullying you. She's pain in the ass and maybe she’ll learn something after this.” I couldn’t even gasp anymore. I sank. That’s when I felt arms break through the water—strong, foreign, unfamiliar. A hand wrapped around my waist. The pull of the surface returned. A stranger’s voice, low and steady. “I’ve got you.” I coughed violently as my head broke above water. Chapter 2 The yacht docked at port just after dawn. No one said a word to me. Not Jacob. Not Luther. Not even Lavenia, who had cried so hard last night I almost believed her. Almost. I stepped off the deck in silence, soaked to the marrow with salt and humiliation, my skin still chilled from nearly drowning—and not just in water. Jacob had pushed me. Straight into the dark waves. And he hadn’t even flinched. “That's what you get,” he’d said afterward. “For being jealous. For acting like the world owes you something.” Not a sorry. Not a hand offered. Not even a glance of regret. And when that stranger dove in, dragging me back to the dock—he vanished like mist. No name. No thanks. Just a blur in the crowd. A ghost in human form. I stumbled back to the apartment alone. Shaking. Done. The second I stepped inside, I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I packed. Drawers opened. Suitcases filled. Clothes. Passports. Hard drives. The necklace my grandmother gave me. Anything worth keeping—anything untouched by them—was coming with me. I was folding my last coat when my phone buzzed. A message from Lavenia. Not even pretending to be subtle this time. “Hey Pearl~ Check out my Insta! New pics!” The nerve. I tapped the screen, already knowing what I’d see. There she was again—crowned and smug. Draped in one of my silk robes, the pink one from Milan I’d left on the yacht. Jacob beside her, shirtless, half-asleep, his arm around her and his nose nearly grazing her almost exposed breast. Luther on her other side, holding her like she was some kind of queen. A queen of snakes. Caption: “Best night ever with my fav boys. Thanks for making my birthday unforgettable. I loved every whip and bit of cream you gave me. ” “And guess what, Pearl? Jacob gave me your brand-new car. Said it was his money anyway, and the color suits me better. But don’t worry—I’ll let you borrow it… if you say please.” Then she posted my car on her insta. I just laughed. I tapped the little heart under her post, let it turn red, and tossed my phone on the bed. Tomorrow, I’d be gone. And when I left, I wasn’t taking ghosts with me. *** I submitted my resignation at the firm that afternoon, handed it in with a smile and shook a few hands like I wasn’t dismantling my entire life. When I got back to the apartment, it was time for the final cut. I dragged out a worn leather box from under the bed—heavy with memories and promises. Inside were the tokens of my past with them, each one a shard of what we used to be. Jacob’s silver necklace, delicate and engraved with a secret phrase only we ever knew. Luther’s old cigarette lighter, battered and cold, but still weighted with memories of smoky nights and whispered secrets. The cracked glass of Jacob’s luxury watch, frozen in time, ticking no more. I pulled out the crumpled love letters Jacob had written me when I was sixteen—folded poems hidden away, words I’d believed once were forever. Alongside them, notes from Luther—carefully folded, tucked beneath my door during sleepless nights at college. There was the leather jacket Jacob promised would be mine forever, its worn sleeves smelling faintly of his cologne. Luther’s dented motorcycle helmet, the one we’d joked about racing across the countryside with. And the tiny music box that played our song—the one we all loved—now silent and gathering dust. Click. Flame. I set the edge of the leather jacket alight first. It curled, blackening quickly. I tossed in the letters, the necklace, the lighter, the watch. Each item caught fire, the flames licking hungrily at the remnants of us. By the time Jacob burst into the room, half my past was already ash. “Pearl—what the fuck are you doing?!” His voice cracked, eyes wild. I didn’t flinch. “Getting rid of mold.” “Bullshit!” He stepped closer, desperation in his voice. “These aren’t just things. They’re our memories.” Luther followed, eyes darting to the burning pile. He lunged to grab the map but yelped when the flames bit at his fingers. “You’re insane. You just destroyed everything we had.” I met his gaze, cold and steady. “You gave my car to Lavenia. She gets the gifts, she can keep the memories too.” “You’re really doing this? Are you still not done throwing tantrums? You ruined her birthday last night with your immaturity.” I smiled, bitter and calm. “Yeah. I’m done. This is the last time… you’ll ever see me.” They watched the smoke curl up to the ceiling, the ashes settling like the end of us. Funny how they almost burned the city down for Lavenia’s fake tears—but when I was breaking apart, not one of them asked why. Now, they cried over what was left in flames. Chapter 3 Jacob and Luther didn’t give up that easily. After seeing the photos burn, they tried to patch things up—two lost boys grasping at a thread. “Come on, Pearl,” Jacob said, rubbing the back of his neck like he was about to confess to a crime. “Let’s go out to dinner. Our treat.” Luther nodded, voice softer than usual. “Yeah. Our favorite restaurant. Let's go there. Please. Just one dinner. Let us make it right.” I said nothing but nodded. Inside, I already knew it would be our last night together. We rode in Jacob’s sleek black car, the silence thick and awkward like static between us. Then Luther’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and grimaced. “It’s Lavenia.” I heard the panic in his voice as he answered. “Lavenia? What’s wrong?” Her high-pitched voice shattered the quiet. “The power’s out... someone broke into the house. I’m so scared—there’s a thief. Please, come quick!” Jacob’s jaw tightened. He glanced at me and then back to Luther. “Pearl, get out.” “What?” I blinked, stunned. “We’ll be back after we check on Lavenia,” Jacob said sharply. “You can’t come with us.” Before I could argue, they opened the door and shoved me out onto the dark, wet street. Rain immediately soaked my hair and clothes. They didn’t even wait for me to reach shelter before speeding off, red taillights bleeding into the storm. I just stood there a moment, soaked to the bone, mascara bleeding like betrayal. Then I smiled. Bitter and clean. Because now I knew—this wasn’t the last dinner. This was the funeral feast. And they didn’t even realize they’d been attending their own eulogy. *** I kicked off my heels three blocks in. They were satin, too slippery in the rain, and my toes were already blistered. I held them by the straps as I walked barefoot down the soaked pavement, dress clinging to my skin, hair stuck to my neck, every breath colder than the last. No taxi stopped. Not one. They saw me, I know they did. Drivers slowed, took one look at the drenched girl limping through the dark, and sped up like I was a ghost they didn’t want to deal with. I didn’t cry. Not then. I turned into an alley I thought was a shortcut, thinking maybe if I just cut through to the main road I’d catch a cab or a bus or even collapse near a streetlamp like some poetic wreck. But the shortcut had teeth. He stepped out from behind a dumpster, face shadowed and hoodie soaked through. I saw the glint of the knife too late, felt the rough shove of his hand before I even registered what he said. Something about a wallet, maybe my bag, maybe my phone. I didn’t care. I fought back anyway. I punched and clawed and screamed until my throat broke open, and that’s when he stabbed me. Once in the gut, then again lower, and a third time when I tried to crawl away. The pain was sharp and hot and then cold, so cold it stole my breath. I remember falling. I remember the way the pavement kissed my cheek like a farewell. And then I remember headlights. A door slamming. Someone shouting my name. Arms lifting me. I tried to speak, tried to tell them to call my aunt, tell her I’m sorry, tell her I won’t be able to bring those cookies after all. But my lips didn’t move. My vision blurred into static. Then I saw him. That face. Him. The same stranger who had jumped into the ocean during Lavenia’s birthday party. The same man who pulled me out of the freezing water when Jacob pushed me from the yacht deck “by accident.” I thought I hallucinated him that night. I thought maybe the sea gave me an angel. But he was real. He looked down at me as I bled through his white dress shirt, cradled in his arms, soaked from rain and blood and regret. “Stay with me, Pearl,” he said, voice deep and calm and commanding. “You’re not dying tonight. Not like this.” “Who… are you?” I think I whispered. He gave the ghost of a smile. “Sebastian.” Then he vanished again. Not in smoke or light, but in the clean, cruel way people like him do—when a secretary called his name and he slipped from the hospital room without asking for thanks. I stayed there for a week. Tubes in my arms, stitches in my stomach, silence in my soul. No visitors. No calls. Not even my mom—I told the nurses not to tell her. What was the point? I needed to lie still and feel it. The death of whatever part of me still hoped someone would come. And then on the day I was discharged, still pale and in a hospital gown, they appeared. Lavenia was on a stretcher, bleeding from her arms, wrists wrapped in soaked gauze, mascara smeared across her perfect porcelain face. She wailed like a siren. Jacob held her hand, whispering something soft, and Luther was right behind, holding her bag like a loyal mule. I stood in the corridor and they passed me. And they froze. Jacob blinked like he saw a corpse. Luther looked like he’d been sucker-punched. Pearl? That was all Jacob said. I looked at them both, then down at the IV tape still on my hand. I hadn’t even changed yet. The nurses were packing my things. I was supposed to go home. Instead, I met them. “You’re here?” Luther asked, voice hollow. “You were in the hospital?” Jacob stepped forward, reaching, but I stepped back. I laughed. Not loud. Not crazy. Just broken. “You didn’t even know,” I said quietly, “I was here for a week. Fighting to live. And none of you even noticed I was gone.” Their mouths opened but no words came out. And behind them, Lavenia screamed again, stealing all their attention. Of course she did. And once again, they turned toward her. And once again, I walked away. This time barefoot. This time bleeding inside. This time—free. Chapter 4 The apartment was still dark when I arrived. No lights. No warmth. Just stale air and the faint scent of something rotting in the sink. I didn’t bother flipping the switch. I dropped my bag by the door and kicked it shut behind me, each step echoing too loudly in the silence. I didn’t even change. The hospital gown was thin under my hoodie, but I didn’t care. I collapsed onto the couch face-first, arms dangling over the side like I was boneless. The fabric scratched against my bandages, but exhaustion won. Sleep wasn’t kind. It never is when your dreams know the truth before your mouth does. Hours passed. I woke up groggy and sore, blinking into the darkness, and then I heard it. Clattering. From the kitchen. I sat up slowly, my body heavy and cold and aching, and I padded toward the sound with bare feet. I thought maybe I was imagining things, that maybe I had left the TV on or someone was breaking in, but when I turned the corner, I saw them. Jacob was at the stove, grilling steak. Luther stood by the counter, chopping vegetables with precise, clean movements. The table was already set—plates, cutlery, glasses, even a folded napkin at each seat. They both looked up when they saw me standing there. Jacob was the first to speak. “We thought you were at your aunt’s,” he said, like that explained everything. “We didn’t want to disturb you.” Luther looked guilty, eyes flicking down to his knife and then back to me. “We didn’t know you were in the hospital,” he said, voice low. I didn’t answer. I just walked in and sat down at the table. I didn’t touch the food. Jacob frowned and turned off the stove. “You have to eat. You just got discharged.” I looked at him then. Cold. Clear. “You didn’t check on me for a week.” The silence that followed was loud enough to split bone. No one moved. No one breathed. Then the doorbell rang. Jacob and Luther both turned toward it, and Luther moved first, walking quickly to open the door. Lavenia stood there. She was pale and fragile, her wrists wrapped in clean bandages hidden beneath the sleeves of a delicate blouse, and she looked like a porcelain doll that had cracked but hadn’t shattered yet. The moment they saw her, they moved. Jacob rushed to her and picked her up like she weighed nothing, carrying her in his arms and laying her gently down on the couch. “You shouldn’t be out,” he whispered, brushing the hair from her face. “What if something happens to you?” “I was alone in the hospital room,” she said, looking up at Jacob with those wide, doe eyes. “And I kept thinking what if I never woke up again? What if I opened my eyes and no one was there? I panicked. I didn’t want to be alone tonight.” Jacob softened immediately and moved toward her, but she raised a hand weakly. “If it’s too much, I can go back,” she whispered. “Really. I didn’t mean to be a burden.” “Hey, hey, no,” Jacob murmured, voice full of worry. “You’re not a burden, okay? You should’ve called sooner. We’ll take care of you.” Luther hovered behind Jacob and said, “We’ll go back to the hospital after we check on Pearl. Then we’ll stay with you tonight.” I didn’t speak. I just picked up my fork and started eating. The steak was dry and overdone and still pink in the center, and I hated every bite. I chewed like it was cardboard, like it was ashes, and I kept eating anyway because I didn’t want them to see me stop. He made steak. My least favorite. They didn’t even remember. I forced out a laugh—small and bitter and almost invisible—and swallowed it down with a sip of water. Jacob and Luther were setting a place at the table for her now, helping her sit up and encouraging her to eat like she was made of glass. She took their attention like it was her birthright, and every so often she glanced at me with eyes that said you lost. And then my phone buzzed. I glanced at it and saw the name: Mom. She’d sent me over a dozen photos of wedding dresses—lace and silk and heavy beading, dramatic trains and cathedral veils, each more extravagant than the last. I scrolled through them with numb fingers, pausing on the third one—a satin off-the-shoulder gown with a cinched waist and cascading ruffles. I tapped the call button before I could change my mind. She picked up on the third ring, her voice warm and full of anticipation. “Pearl, did you get the dresses? I think the third one would suit you best. But if your fiancé prefers white—” “I love the third,” I said quickly, and this time I made sure my voice was light, even cheerful. “It’s perfect. I can already picture it. I’m really… excited.” She paused, maybe surprised by the change in my tone. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad. I knew you'd love it once you really looked. You always liked the more classic silhouettes.” I nodded even though she couldn’t see me and forced a small laugh. “Yeah. I think it’ll be beautiful. I’m really looking forward to the WEDDING.” There was a flicker of movement across the room. I didn’t look up. “How much longer do you need over there?” she asked. “Just a week. I’ll finish up and be home.” “Good. Everything here’s almost ready.” I hung up and set the phone down on the table, and that’s when I felt it—that silence that isn’t empty, but heavy. Like breath being held. I looked up. Jacob and Luther were staring at me. Lavenia had frozen where she sat, a fork suspended halfway to her mouth. Her expression was still soft, still wounded, but her eyes had gone sharp. Jacob was the first to move. He stepped away from Lavenia and crossed the room in seconds, voice cutting. “Wedding?” Luther followed close behind, brows furrowed, jaw tight. “What wedding?” #ShortStory #Fiction #WebNovel #FromWeakToStrong #SheWon #Karma 📚 Only a few chapters are available here. Tap “Start Reading” to continue the story on the next page. 👇👇👇
🔥💔They betrayed me, and when I was left for dead, a stranger saved me. Now, the man who cheated thinks he still has a chance—he’s wrong. I’m marrying someone else.💣💥 Chapter 1 "Your father arranged a marriage for you years ago. Now that your health’s stabilized… will you go through with it?" I didn’t hesitate. "Yes," I said, my voice flat. "Tell Father to prepare the paperwork. And make sure the wedding isn’t tacky. I’m not here for romance. I’m here to win." My mother didn’t flinch at my tone. She agreed, offered a few suggestions, and I gave her a list of my own before hanging up. It was supposed to be Lavenia’s birthday. One weekend on Jacob’s yacht. Glitter, champagne, fake smiles. Instead, I watched her kiss my boyfriend. Jacob. Upper deck. Frosting on her cheek. His hands on her waist. His brother, Luther—who used to be like a big brother to me—handing her a towel like this wasn’t betrayal in HD. Lavenia. My best friend. My ride-or-die since age nine. She used to braid my hair and swear she’d never touch what was mine. Now she’s licking cake off Jacob’s fingers like it’s foreplay. And Jacob? The man who bled for me. Who once called me his future. He didn’t even flinch when I walked past. Didn’t blink. I didn’t cry. Didn’t scream. I just came downstairs. Sea air thick in my lungs. Heart dead quiet. Sat on the velvet lounge sofa tucked into the yacht’s lower deck suite and called my mother. Because if I want revenge, I need power. And power doesn’t come from tears. A few minutes later, I heard designer heels tapping on the staircase. Then a knock on my cabin door. “Pearl?” a sugary voice chimed. I didn’t answer. She pushed the door open anyway. Lavenia waltzed in like she owned the yacht, carrying a Black Forest cake with one candle stuck dead center. Her makeup was flawless—glossy lips, fluttery lashes—but there were a few smudges of whipped cream on her cheek. Deliberate. Always. “Pearl, will you come upstairs? Everyone’s asking about you.” Her tone was sweet, eyes wide like some Disney deer. But I’d seen her fangs too many times. “No,” I said flatly, not even turning around. “I have work.” A flicker of something crossed her face. Disappointment? No. Calculation. “You don’t like me,” she said softly. “That’s why you’re always avoiding me.” I raised an eyebrow. “Are we doing this again?” She blinked rapidly, like she was about to cry on cue. And maybe she was. I’d seen her pull this routine on Jacob a thousand times. “I’m not in the mood, Lavenia. Save the performance for your fan club.” I moved toward the door. She stepped back—then suddenly stumbled, gasping as the cake flew from her hands and smashed across her chest, rich chocolate and whipped cream splattering like a crime scene. Right on cue, Jacob and Luther appeared at the top of the staircase like trained guard dogs. They rushed toward her, shoving past me like I didn’t exist. “Lavi! Oh my god—what happened?” Jacob’s voice was tight, eyes locked on her frosting-smeared dress. “She shoved me,” Lavenia whimpered, clutching the ruined cake like it was a mortal wound. “I was just trying to bring her something sweet. For old times. She—she pushed it into me.” I stared at her, stunned. “What?” “She what?” Luther’s eyes blazed. “Pearl, what the hell is wrong with you?” “I didn’t touch her,” I snapped. “She dropped it herself. You all saw nothing but you're ready to believe this?” Jacob didn’t even glance my way. He was too busy dabbing frosting off Lavenia’s shoulder like it was acid. “Lavi, does it hurt?” he murmured. She sniffled and leaned into his chest. “Just a little. It’s okay… I shouldn’t have bothered her. She hates me now.” “You were her best friend,” Luther said, glaring at me. “You were like sisters. She always called you her only real friend. And this is how you treat her? Because you're jealous?” Jealous. I laughed—quiet, bitter. “You two belong in a soap opera. All that’s missing is a coma and a fake baby.” Jacob turned, jaw clenched. “You’re going to apologize." I blinked. “Excuse me?” “You heard me,” he said, voice low and furious. “Apologize to Lavenia. Now.” I stared him down, arms crossed. “No.” His eyes narrowed. “Then forget about the wedding we planned. You don’t apologize by tomorrow, I’m not proposing to you next month. Consider it off the table.” Silence snapped tight between us. Luther scoffed behind him. “You still wanna marry her, bro? Her true colors are showing now. What a waste. If I were you, I’d never marry a woman like her.” I tilted my head slowly, eyes locked on him. “That’s why no one ever would,” I said, voice like satin over steel. Luther flushed. Jacob's jaw ticked. Lavenia looked positively radiant, loving every second of the chaos she brewed. Then I turned toward the side railing to head back inside—but Jacob’s hand gripped my wrist. I barely had time to blink before he shoved me. Over the rail. Into the sea. Splash. The cold hit me like knives. My lungs clenched. The darkness swallowed me whole. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream. Help. My hands flailed above the surface, mouth gasping, choking on salt and panic. The water dragged at me like an anchor. I didn’t know how to swim. They knew that. “Pearl?!” Lavenia’s voice rang out behind me, loud and dramatic. “Somebody help—Pearl doesn’t know how to swim!” But it wasn’t panic. It was a performance. “Let her be,” Jacob said coolly, standing above like a god with no mercy. “That’s for bullying you. She's pain in the ass and maybe she’ll learn something after this.” I couldn’t even gasp anymore. I sank. That’s when I felt arms break through the water—strong, foreign, unfamiliar. A hand wrapped around my waist. The pull of the surface returned. A stranger’s voice, low and steady. “I’ve got you.” I coughed violently as my head broke above water. Chapter 2 The yacht docked at port just after dawn. No one said a word to me. Not Jacob. Not Luther. Not even Lavenia, who had cried so hard last night I almost believed her. Almost. I stepped off the deck in silence, soaked to the marrow with salt and humiliation, my skin still chilled from nearly drowning—and not just in water. Jacob had pushed me. Straight into the dark waves. And he hadn’t even flinched. “That's what you get,” he’d said afterward. “For being jealous. For acting like the world owes you something.” Not a sorry. Not a hand offered. Not even a glance of regret. And when that stranger dove in, dragging me back to the dock—he vanished like mist. No name. No thanks. Just a blur in the crowd. A ghost in human form. I stumbled back to the apartment alone. Shaking. Done. The second I stepped inside, I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I packed. Drawers opened. Suitcases filled. Clothes. Passports. Hard drives. The necklace my grandmother gave me. Anything worth keeping—anything untouched by them—was coming with me. I was folding my last coat when my phone buzzed. A message from Lavenia. Not even pretending to be subtle this time. “Hey Pearl~ Check out my Insta! New pics!” The nerve. I tapped the screen, already knowing what I’d see. There she was again—crowned and smug. Draped in one of my silk robes, the pink one from Milan I’d left on the yacht. Jacob beside her, shirtless, half-asleep, his arm around her and his nose nearly grazing her almost exposed breast. Luther on her other side, holding her like she was some kind of queen. A queen of snakes. Caption: “Best night ever with my fav boys. Thanks for making my birthday unforgettable. I loved every whip and bit of cream you gave me. ” “And guess what, Pearl? Jacob gave me your brand-new car. Said it was his money anyway, and the color suits me better. But don’t worry—I’ll let you borrow it… if you say please.” Then she posted my car on her insta. I just laughed. I tapped the little heart under her post, let it turn red, and tossed my phone on the bed. Tomorrow, I’d be gone. And when I left, I wasn’t taking ghosts with me. *** I submitted my resignation at the firm that afternoon, handed it in with a smile and shook a few hands like I wasn’t dismantling my entire life. When I got back to the apartment, it was time for the final cut. I dragged out a worn leather box from under the bed—heavy with memories and promises. Inside were the tokens of my past with them, each one a shard of what we used to be. Jacob’s silver necklace, delicate and engraved with a secret phrase only we ever knew. Luther’s old cigarette lighter, battered and cold, but still weighted with memories of smoky nights and whispered secrets. The cracked glass of Jacob’s luxury watch, frozen in time, ticking no more. I pulled out the crumpled love letters Jacob had written me when I was sixteen—folded poems hidden away, words I’d believed once were forever. Alongside them, notes from Luther—carefully folded, tucked beneath my door during sleepless nights at college. There was the leather jacket Jacob promised would be mine forever, its worn sleeves smelling faintly of his cologne. Luther’s dented motorcycle helmet, the one we’d joked about racing across the countryside with. And the tiny music box that played our song—the one we all loved—now silent and gathering dust. Click. Flame. I set the edge of the leather jacket alight first. It curled, blackening quickly. I tossed in the letters, the necklace, the lighter, the watch. Each item caught fire, the flames licking hungrily at the remnants of us. By the time Jacob burst into the room, half my past was already ash. “Pearl—what the fuck are you doing?!” His voice cracked, eyes wild. I didn’t flinch. “Getting rid of mold.” “Bullshit!” He stepped closer, desperation in his voice. “These aren’t just things. They’re our memories.” Luther followed, eyes darting to the burning pile. He lunged to grab the map but yelped when the flames bit at his fingers. “You’re insane. You just destroyed everything we had.” I met his gaze, cold and steady. “You gave my car to Lavenia. She gets the gifts, she can keep the memories too.” “You’re really doing this? Are you still not done throwing tantrums? You ruined her birthday last night with your immaturity.” I smiled, bitter and calm. “Yeah. I’m done. This is the last time… you’ll ever see me.” They watched the smoke curl up to the ceiling, the ashes settling like the end of us. Funny how they almost burned the city down for Lavenia’s fake tears—but when I was breaking apart, not one of them asked why. Now, they cried over what was left in flames. Chapter 3 Jacob and Luther didn’t give up that easily. After seeing the photos burn, they tried to patch things up—two lost boys grasping at a thread. “Come on, Pearl,” Jacob said, rubbing the back of his neck like he was about to confess to a crime. “Let’s go out to dinner. Our treat.” Luther nodded, voice softer than usual. “Yeah. Our favorite restaurant. Let's go there. Please. Just one dinner. Let us make it right.” I said nothing but nodded. Inside, I already knew it would be our last night together. We rode in Jacob’s sleek black car, the silence thick and awkward like static between us. Then Luther’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and grimaced. “It’s Lavenia.” I heard the panic in his voice as he answered. “Lavenia? What’s wrong?” Her high-pitched voice shattered the quiet. “The power’s out... someone broke into the house. I’m so scared—there’s a thief. Please, come quick!” Jacob’s jaw tightened. He glanced at me and then back to Luther. “Pearl, get out.” “What?” I blinked, stunned. “We’ll be back after we check on Lavenia,” Jacob said sharply. “You can’t come with us.” Before I could argue, they opened the door and shoved me out onto the dark, wet street. Rain immediately soaked my hair and clothes. They didn’t even wait for me to reach shelter before speeding off, red taillights bleeding into the storm. I just stood there a moment, soaked to the bone, mascara bleeding like betrayal. Then I smiled. Bitter and clean. Because now I knew—this wasn’t the last dinner. This was the funeral feast. And they didn’t even realize they’d been attending their own eulogy. *** I kicked off my heels three blocks in. They were satin, too slippery in the rain, and my toes were already blistered. I held them by the straps as I walked barefoot down the soaked pavement, dress clinging to my skin, hair stuck to my neck, every breath colder than the last. No taxi stopped. Not one. They saw me, I know they did. Drivers slowed, took one look at the drenched girl limping through the dark, and sped up like I was a ghost they didn’t want to deal with. I didn’t cry. Not then. I turned into an alley I thought was a shortcut, thinking maybe if I just cut through to the main road I’d catch a cab or a bus or even collapse near a streetlamp like some poetic wreck. But the shortcut had teeth. He stepped out from behind a dumpster, face shadowed and hoodie soaked through. I saw the glint of the knife too late, felt the rough shove of his hand before I even registered what he said. Something about a wallet, maybe my bag, maybe my phone. I didn’t care. I fought back anyway. I punched and clawed and screamed until my throat broke open, and that’s when he stabbed me. Once in the gut, then again lower, and a third time when I tried to crawl away. The pain was sharp and hot and then cold, so cold it stole my breath. I remember falling. I remember the way the pavement kissed my cheek like a farewell. And then I remember headlights. A door slamming. Someone shouting my name. Arms lifting me. I tried to speak, tried to tell them to call my aunt, tell her I’m sorry, tell her I won’t be able to bring those cookies after all. But my lips didn’t move. My vision blurred into static. Then I saw him. That face. Him. The same stranger who had jumped into the ocean during Lavenia’s birthday party. The same man who pulled me out of the freezing water when Jacob pushed me from the yacht deck “by accident.” I thought I hallucinated him that night. I thought maybe the sea gave me an angel. But he was real. He looked down at me as I bled through his white dress shirt, cradled in his arms, soaked from rain and blood and regret. “Stay with me, Pearl,” he said, voice deep and calm and commanding. “You’re not dying tonight. Not like this.” “Who… are you?” I think I whispered. He gave the ghost of a smile. “Sebastian.” Then he vanished again. Not in smoke or light, but in the clean, cruel way people like him do—when a secretary called his name and he slipped from the hospital room without asking for thanks. I stayed there for a week. Tubes in my arms, stitches in my stomach, silence in my soul. No visitors. No calls. Not even my mom—I told the nurses not to tell her. What was the point? I needed to lie still and feel it. The death of whatever part of me still hoped someone would come. And then on the day I was discharged, still pale and in a hospital gown, they appeared. Lavenia was on a stretcher, bleeding from her arms, wrists wrapped in soaked gauze, mascara smeared across her perfect porcelain face. She wailed like a siren. Jacob held her hand, whispering something soft, and Luther was right behind, holding her bag like a loyal mule. I stood in the corridor and they passed me. And they froze. Jacob blinked like he saw a corpse. Luther looked like he’d been sucker-punched. Pearl? That was all Jacob said. I looked at them both, then down at the IV tape still on my hand. I hadn’t even changed yet. The nurses were packing my things. I was supposed to go home. Instead, I met them. “You’re here?” Luther asked, voice hollow. “You were in the hospital?” Jacob stepped forward, reaching, but I stepped back. I laughed. Not loud. Not crazy. Just broken. “You didn’t even know,” I said quietly, “I was here for a week. Fighting to live. And none of you even noticed I was gone.” Their mouths opened but no words came out. And behind them, Lavenia screamed again, stealing all their attention. Of course she did. And once again, they turned toward her. And once again, I walked away. This time barefoot. This time bleeding inside. This time—free. Chapter 4 The apartment was still dark when I arrived. No lights. No warmth. Just stale air and the faint scent of something rotting in the sink. I didn’t bother flipping the switch. I dropped my bag by the door and kicked it shut behind me, each step echoing too loudly in the silence. I didn’t even change. The hospital gown was thin under my hoodie, but I didn’t care. I collapsed onto the couch face-first, arms dangling over the side like I was boneless. The fabric scratched against my bandages, but exhaustion won. Sleep wasn’t kind. It never is when your dreams know the truth before your mouth does. Hours passed. I woke up groggy and sore, blinking into the darkness, and then I heard it. Clattering. From the kitchen. I sat up slowly, my body heavy and cold and aching, and I padded toward the sound with bare feet. I thought maybe I was imagining things, that maybe I had left the TV on or someone was breaking in, but when I turned the corner, I saw them. Jacob was at the stove, grilling steak. Luther stood by the counter, chopping vegetables with precise, clean movements. The table was already set—plates, cutlery, glasses, even a folded napkin at each seat. They both looked up when they saw me standing there. Jacob was the first to speak. “We thought you were at your aunt’s,” he said, like that explained everything. “We didn’t want to disturb you.” Luther looked guilty, eyes flicking down to his knife and then back to me. “We didn’t know you were in the hospital,” he said, voice low. I didn’t answer. I just walked in and sat down at the table. I didn’t touch the food. Jacob frowned and turned off the stove. “You have to eat. You just got discharged.” I looked at him then. Cold. Clear. “You didn’t check on me for a week.” The silence that followed was loud enough to split bone. No one moved. No one breathed. Then the doorbell rang. Jacob and Luther both turned toward it, and Luther moved first, walking quickly to open the door. Lavenia stood there. She was pale and fragile, her wrists wrapped in clean bandages hidden beneath the sleeves of a delicate blouse, and she looked like a porcelain doll that had cracked but hadn’t shattered yet. The moment they saw her, they moved. Jacob rushed to her and picked her up like she weighed nothing, carrying her in his arms and laying her gently down on the couch. “You shouldn’t be out,” he whispered, brushing the hair from her face. “What if something happens to you?” “I was alone in the hospital room,” she said, looking up at Jacob with those wide, doe eyes. “And I kept thinking what if I never woke up again? What if I opened my eyes and no one was there? I panicked. I didn’t want to be alone tonight.” Jacob softened immediately and moved toward her, but she raised a hand weakly. “If it’s too much, I can go back,” she whispered. “Really. I didn’t mean to be a burden.” “Hey, hey, no,” Jacob murmured, voice full of worry. “You’re not a burden, okay? You should’ve called sooner. We’ll take care of you.” Luther hovered behind Jacob and said, “We’ll go back to the hospital after we check on Pearl. Then we’ll stay with you tonight.” I didn’t speak. I just picked up my fork and started eating. The steak was dry and overdone and still pink in the center, and I hated every bite. I chewed like it was cardboard, like it was ashes, and I kept eating anyway because I didn’t want them to see me stop. He made steak. My least favorite. They didn’t even remember. I forced out a laugh—small and bitter and almost invisible—and swallowed it down with a sip of water. Jacob and Luther were setting a place at the table for her now, helping her sit up and encouraging her to eat like she was made of glass. She took their attention like it was her birthright, and every so often she glanced at me with eyes that said you lost. And then my phone buzzed. I glanced at it and saw the name: Mom. She’d sent me over a dozen photos of wedding dresses—lace and silk and heavy beading, dramatic trains and cathedral veils, each more extravagant than the last. I scrolled through them with numb fingers, pausing on the third one—a satin off-the-shoulder gown with a cinched waist and cascading ruffles. I tapped the call button before I could change my mind. She picked up on the third ring, her voice warm and full of anticipation. “Pearl, did you get the dresses? I think the third one would suit you best. But if your fiancé prefers white—” “I love the third,” I said quickly, and this time I made sure my voice was light, even cheerful. “It’s perfect. I can already picture it. I’m really… excited.” She paused, maybe surprised by the change in my tone. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad. I knew you'd love it once you really looked. You always liked the more classic silhouettes.” I nodded even though she couldn’t see me and forced a small laugh. “Yeah. I think it’ll be beautiful. I’m really looking forward to the WEDDING.” There was a flicker of movement across the room. I didn’t look up. “How much longer do you need over there?” she asked. “Just a week. I’ll finish up and be home.” “Good. Everything here’s almost ready.” I hung up and set the phone down on the table, and that’s when I felt it—that silence that isn’t empty, but heavy. Like breath being held. I looked up. Jacob and Luther were staring at me. Lavenia had frozen where she sat, a fork suspended halfway to her mouth. Her expression was still soft, still wounded, but her eyes had gone sharp. Jacob was the first to move. He stepped away from Lavenia and crossed the room in seconds, voice cutting. “Wedding?” Luther followed close behind, brows furrowed, jaw tight. “What wedding?” #LoveAndLies #SecondChance #Betrayal #LoveTriangle #RevengeAndRedemption 📚Only a limited number of chapters can be displayed here. Click "Read More" to open the application and continue reading (it will automatically navigate to the corresponding book page).👇👇👇
🔥💔They betrayed me, and when I was left for dead, a stranger saved me. Now, the man who cheated thinks he still has a chance—he’s wrong. I’m marrying someone else.💣💥 Chapter 1 "Your father arranged a marriage for you years ago. Now that your health’s stabilized… will you go through with it?" I didn’t hesitate. "Yes," I said, my voice flat. "Tell Father to prepare the paperwork. And make sure the wedding isn’t tacky. I’m not here for romance. I’m here to win." My mother didn’t flinch at my tone. She agreed, offered a few suggestions, and I gave her a list of my own before hanging up. It was supposed to be Lavenia’s birthday. One weekend on Jacob’s yacht. Glitter, champagne, fake smiles. Instead, I watched her kiss my boyfriend. Jacob. Upper deck. Frosting on her cheek. His hands on her waist. His brother, Luther—who used to be like a big brother to me—handing her a towel like this wasn’t betrayal in HD. Lavenia. My best friend. My ride-or-die since age nine. She used to braid my hair and swear she’d never touch what was mine. Now she’s licking cake off Jacob’s fingers like it’s foreplay. And Jacob? The man who bled for me. Who once called me his future. He didn’t even flinch when I walked past. Didn’t blink. I didn’t cry. Didn’t scream. I just came downstairs. Sea air thick in my lungs. Heart dead quiet. Sat on the velvet lounge sofa tucked into the yacht’s lower deck suite and called my mother. Because if I want revenge, I need power. And power doesn’t come from tears. A few minutes later, I heard designer heels tapping on the staircase. Then a knock on my cabin door. “Pearl?” a sugary voice chimed. I didn’t answer. She pushed the door open anyway. Lavenia waltzed in like she owned the yacht, carrying a Black Forest cake with one candle stuck dead center. Her makeup was flawless—glossy lips, fluttery lashes—but there were a few smudges of whipped cream on her cheek. Deliberate. Always. “Pearl, will you come upstairs? Everyone’s asking about you.” Her tone was sweet, eyes wide like some Disney deer. But I’d seen her fangs too many times. “No,” I said flatly, not even turning around. “I have work.” A flicker of something crossed her face. Disappointment? No. Calculation. “You don’t like me,” she said softly. “That’s why you’re always avoiding me.” I raised an eyebrow. “Are we doing this again?” She blinked rapidly, like she was about to cry on cue. And maybe she was. I’d seen her pull this routine on Jacob a thousand times. “I’m not in the mood, Lavenia. Save the performance for your fan club.” I moved toward the door. She stepped back—then suddenly stumbled, gasping as the cake flew from her hands and smashed across her chest, rich chocolate and whipped cream splattering like a crime scene. Right on cue, Jacob and Luther appeared at the top of the staircase like trained guard dogs. They rushed toward her, shoving past me like I didn’t exist. “Lavi! Oh my god—what happened?” Jacob’s voice was tight, eyes locked on her frosting-smeared dress. “She shoved me,” Lavenia whimpered, clutching the ruined cake like it was a mortal wound. “I was just trying to bring her something sweet. For old times. She—she pushed it into me.” I stared at her, stunned. “What?” “She what?” Luther’s eyes blazed. “Pearl, what the hell is wrong with you?” “I didn’t touch her,” I snapped. “She dropped it herself. You all saw nothing but you're ready to believe this?” Jacob didn’t even glance my way. He was too busy dabbing frosting off Lavenia’s shoulder like it was acid. “Lavi, does it hurt?” he murmured. She sniffled and leaned into his chest. “Just a little. It’s okay… I shouldn’t have bothered her. She hates me now.” “You were her best friend,” Luther said, glaring at me. “You were like sisters. She always called you her only real friend. And this is how you treat her? Because you're jealous?” Jealous. I laughed—quiet, bitter. “You two belong in a soap opera. All that’s missing is a coma and a fake baby.” Jacob turned, jaw clenched. “You’re going to apologize." I blinked. “Excuse me?” “You heard me,” he said, voice low and furious. “Apologize to Lavenia. Now.” I stared him down, arms crossed. “No.” His eyes narrowed. “Then forget about the wedding we planned. You don’t apologize by tomorrow, I’m not proposing to you next month. Consider it off the table.” Silence snapped tight between us. Luther scoffed behind him. “You still wanna marry her, bro? Her true colors are showing now. What a waste. If I were you, I’d never marry a woman like her.” I tilted my head slowly, eyes locked on him. “That’s why no one ever would,” I said, voice like satin over steel. Luther flushed. Jacob's jaw ticked. Lavenia looked positively radiant, loving every second of the chaos she brewed. Then I turned toward the side railing to head back inside—but Jacob’s hand gripped my wrist. I barely had time to blink before he shoved me. Over the rail. Into the sea. Splash. The cold hit me like knives. My lungs clenched. The darkness swallowed me whole. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream. Help. My hands flailed above the surface, mouth gasping, choking on salt and panic. The water dragged at me like an anchor. I didn’t know how to swim. They knew that. “Pearl?!” Lavenia’s voice rang out behind me, loud and dramatic. “Somebody help—Pearl doesn’t know how to swim!” But it wasn’t panic. It was a performance. “Let her be,” Jacob said coolly, standing above like a god with no mercy. “That’s for bullying you. She's pain in the ass and maybe she’ll learn something after this.” I couldn’t even gasp anymore. I sank. That’s when I felt arms break through the water—strong, foreign, unfamiliar. A hand wrapped around my waist. The pull of the surface returned. A stranger’s voice, low and steady. “I’ve got you.” I coughed violently as my head broke above water. Chapter 2 The yacht docked at port just after dawn. No one said a word to me. Not Jacob. Not Luther. Not even Lavenia, who had cried so hard last night I almost believed her. Almost. I stepped off the deck in silence, soaked to the marrow with salt and humiliation, my skin still chilled from nearly drowning—and not just in water. Jacob had pushed me. Straight into the dark waves. And he hadn’t even flinched. “That's what you get,” he’d said afterward. “For being jealous. For acting like the world owes you something.” Not a sorry. Not a hand offered. Not even a glance of regret. And when that stranger dove in, dragging me back to the dock—he vanished like mist. No name. No thanks. Just a blur in the crowd. A ghost in human form. I stumbled back to the apartment alone. Shaking. Done. The second I stepped inside, I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I packed. Drawers opened. Suitcases filled. Clothes. Passports. Hard drives. The necklace my grandmother gave me. Anything worth keeping—anything untouched by them—was coming with me. I was folding my last coat when my phone buzzed. A message from Lavenia. Not even pretending to be subtle this time. “Hey Pearl~ Check out my Insta! New pics!” The nerve. I tapped the screen, already knowing what I’d see. There she was again—crowned and smug. Draped in one of my silk robes, the pink one from Milan I’d left on the yacht. Jacob beside her, shirtless, half-asleep, his arm around her and his nose nearly grazing her almost exposed breast. Luther on her other side, holding her like she was some kind of queen. A queen of snakes. Caption: “Best night ever with my fav boys. Thanks for making my birthday unforgettable. I loved every whip and bit of cream you gave me. ” “And guess what, Pearl? Jacob gave me your brand-new car. Said it was his money anyway, and the color suits me better. But don’t worry—I’ll let you borrow it… if you say please.” Then she posted my car on her insta. I just laughed. I tapped the little heart under her post, let it turn red, and tossed my phone on the bed. Tomorrow, I’d be gone. And when I left, I wasn’t taking ghosts with me. *** I submitted my resignation at the firm that afternoon, handed it in with a smile and shook a few hands like I wasn’t dismantling my entire life. When I got back to the apartment, it was time for the final cut. I dragged out a worn leather box from under the bed—heavy with memories and promises. Inside were the tokens of my past with them, each one a shard of what we used to be. Jacob’s silver necklace, delicate and engraved with a secret phrase only we ever knew. Luther’s old cigarette lighter, battered and cold, but still weighted with memories of smoky nights and whispered secrets. The cracked glass of Jacob’s luxury watch, frozen in time, ticking no more. I pulled out the crumpled love letters Jacob had written me when I was sixteen—folded poems hidden away, words I’d believed once were forever. Alongside them, notes from Luther—carefully folded, tucked beneath my door during sleepless nights at college. There was the leather jacket Jacob promised would be mine forever, its worn sleeves smelling faintly of his cologne. Luther’s dented motorcycle helmet, the one we’d joked about racing across the countryside with. And the tiny music box that played our song—the one we all loved—now silent and gathering dust. Click. Flame. I set the edge of the leather jacket alight first. It curled, blackening quickly. I tossed in the letters, the necklace, the lighter, the watch. Each item caught fire, the flames licking hungrily at the remnants of us. By the time Jacob burst into the room, half my past was already ash. “Pearl—what the fuck are you doing?!” His voice cracked, eyes wild. I didn’t flinch. “Getting rid of mold.” “Bullshit!” He stepped closer, desperation in his voice. “These aren’t just things. They’re our memories.” Luther followed, eyes darting to the burning pile. He lunged to grab the map but yelped when the flames bit at his fingers. “You’re insane. You just destroyed everything we had.” I met his gaze, cold and steady. “You gave my car to Lavenia. She gets the gifts, she can keep the memories too.” “You’re really doing this? Are you still not done throwing tantrums? You ruined her birthday last night with your immaturity.” I smiled, bitter and calm. “Yeah. I’m done. This is the last time… you’ll ever see me.” They watched the smoke curl up to the ceiling, the ashes settling like the end of us. Funny how they almost burned the city down for Lavenia’s fake tears—but when I was breaking apart, not one of them asked why. Now, they cried over what was left in flames. Chapter 3 Jacob and Luther didn’t give up that easily. After seeing the photos burn, they tried to patch things up—two lost boys grasping at a thread. “Come on, Pearl,” Jacob said, rubbing the back of his neck like he was about to confess to a crime. “Let’s go out to dinner. Our treat.” Luther nodded, voice softer than usual. “Yeah. Our favorite restaurant. Let's go there. Please. Just one dinner. Let us make it right.” I said nothing but nodded. Inside, I already knew it would be our last night together. We rode in Jacob’s sleek black car, the silence thick and awkward like static between us. Then Luther’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and grimaced. “It’s Lavenia.” I heard the panic in his voice as he answered. “Lavenia? What’s wrong?” Her high-pitched voice shattered the quiet. “The power’s out... someone broke into the house. I’m so scared—there’s a thief. Please, come quick!” Jacob’s jaw tightened. He glanced at me and then back to Luther. “Pearl, get out.” “What?” I blinked, stunned. “We’ll be back after we check on Lavenia,” Jacob said sharply. “You can’t come with us.” Before I could argue, they opened the door and shoved me out onto the dark, wet street. Rain immediately soaked my hair and clothes. They didn’t even wait for me to reach shelter before speeding off, red taillights bleeding into the storm. I just stood there a moment, soaked to the bone, mascara bleeding like betrayal. Then I smiled. Bitter and clean. Because now I knew—this wasn’t the last dinner. This was the funeral feast. And they didn’t even realize they’d been attending their own eulogy. *** I kicked off my heels three blocks in. They were satin, too slippery in the rain, and my toes were already blistered. I held them by the straps as I walked barefoot down the soaked pavement, dress clinging to my skin, hair stuck to my neck, every breath colder than the last. No taxi stopped. Not one. They saw me, I know they did. Drivers slowed, took one look at the drenched girl limping through the dark, and sped up like I was a ghost they didn’t want to deal with. I didn’t cry. Not then. I turned into an alley I thought was a shortcut, thinking maybe if I just cut through to the main road I’d catch a cab or a bus or even collapse near a streetlamp like some poetic wreck. But the shortcut had teeth. He stepped out from behind a dumpster, face shadowed and hoodie soaked through. I saw the glint of the knife too late, felt the rough shove of his hand before I even registered what he said. Something about a wallet, maybe my bag, maybe my phone. I didn’t care. I fought back anyway. I punched and clawed and screamed until my throat broke open, and that’s when he stabbed me. Once in the gut, then again lower, and a third time when I tried to crawl away. The pain was sharp and hot and then cold, so cold it stole my breath. I remember falling. I remember the way the pavement kissed my cheek like a farewell. And then I remember headlights. A door slamming. Someone shouting my name. Arms lifting me. I tried to speak, tried to tell them to call my aunt, tell her I’m sorry, tell her I won’t be able to bring those cookies after all. But my lips didn’t move. My vision blurred into static. Then I saw him. That face. Him. The same stranger who had jumped into the ocean during Lavenia’s birthday party. The same man who pulled me out of the freezing water when Jacob pushed me from the yacht deck “by accident.” I thought I hallucinated him that night. I thought maybe the sea gave me an angel. But he was real. He looked down at me as I bled through his white dress shirt, cradled in his arms, soaked from rain and blood and regret. “Stay with me, Pearl,” he said, voice deep and calm and commanding. “You’re not dying tonight. Not like this.” “Who… are you?” I think I whispered. He gave the ghost of a smile. “Sebastian.” Then he vanished again. Not in smoke or light, but in the clean, cruel way people like him do—when a secretary called his name and he slipped from the hospital room without asking for thanks. I stayed there for a week. Tubes in my arms, stitches in my stomach, silence in my soul. No visitors. No calls. Not even my mom—I told the nurses not to tell her. What was the point? I needed to lie still and feel it. The death of whatever part of me still hoped someone would come. And then on the day I was discharged, still pale and in a hospital gown, they appeared. Lavenia was on a stretcher, bleeding from her arms, wrists wrapped in soaked gauze, mascara smeared across her perfect porcelain face. She wailed like a siren. Jacob held her hand, whispering something soft, and Luther was right behind, holding her bag like a loyal mule. I stood in the corridor and they passed me. And they froze. Jacob blinked like he saw a corpse. Luther looked like he’d been sucker-punched. Pearl? That was all Jacob said. I looked at them both, then down at the IV tape still on my hand. I hadn’t even changed yet. The nurses were packing my things. I was supposed to go home. Instead, I met them. “You’re here?” Luther asked, voice hollow. “You were in the hospital?” Jacob stepped forward, reaching, but I stepped back. I laughed. Not loud. Not crazy. Just broken. “You didn’t even know,” I said quietly, “I was here for a week. Fighting to live. And none of you even noticed I was gone.” Their mouths opened but no words came out. And behind them, Lavenia screamed again, stealing all their attention. Of course she did. And once again, they turned toward her. And once again, I walked away. This time barefoot. This time bleeding inside. This time—free. Chapter 4 The apartment was still dark when I arrived. No lights. No warmth. Just stale air and the faint scent of something rotting in the sink. I didn’t bother flipping the switch. I dropped my bag by the door and kicked it shut behind me, each step echoing too loudly in the silence. I didn’t even change. The hospital gown was thin under my hoodie, but I didn’t care. I collapsed onto the couch face-first, arms dangling over the side like I was boneless. The fabric scratched against my bandages, but exhaustion won. Sleep wasn’t kind. It never is when your dreams know the truth before your mouth does. Hours passed. I woke up groggy and sore, blinking into the darkness, and then I heard it. Clattering. From the kitchen. I sat up slowly, my body heavy and cold and aching, and I padded toward the sound with bare feet. I thought maybe I was imagining things, that maybe I had left the TV on or someone was breaking in, but when I turned the corner, I saw them. Jacob was at the stove, grilling steak. Luther stood by the counter, chopping vegetables with precise, clean movements. The table was already set—plates, cutlery, glasses, even a folded napkin at each seat. They both looked up when they saw me standing there. Jacob was the first to speak. “We thought you were at your aunt’s,” he said, like that explained everything. “We didn’t want to disturb you.” Luther looked guilty, eyes flicking down to his knife and then back to me. “We didn’t know you were in the hospital,” he said, voice low. I didn’t answer. I just walked in and sat down at the table. I didn’t touch the food. Jacob frowned and turned off the stove. “You have to eat. You just got discharged.” I looked at him then. Cold. Clear. “You didn’t check on me for a week.” The silence that followed was loud enough to split bone. No one moved. No one breathed. Then the doorbell rang. Jacob and Luther both turned toward it, and Luther moved first, walking quickly to open the door. Lavenia stood there. She was pale and fragile, her wrists wrapped in clean bandages hidden beneath the sleeves of a delicate blouse, and she looked like a porcelain doll that had cracked but hadn’t shattered yet. The moment they saw her, they moved. Jacob rushed to her and picked her up like she weighed nothing, carrying her in his arms and laying her gently down on the couch. “You shouldn’t be out,” he whispered, brushing the hair from her face. “What if something happens to you?” “I was alone in the hospital room,” she said, looking up at Jacob with those wide, doe eyes. “And I kept thinking what if I never woke up again? What if I opened my eyes and no one was there? I panicked. I didn’t want to be alone tonight.” Jacob softened immediately and moved toward her, but she raised a hand weakly. “If it’s too much, I can go back,” she whispered. “Really. I didn’t mean to be a burden.” “Hey, hey, no,” Jacob murmured, voice full of worry. “You’re not a burden, okay? You should’ve called sooner. We’ll take care of you.” Luther hovered behind Jacob and said, “We’ll go back to the hospital after we check on Pearl. Then we’ll stay with you tonight.” I didn’t speak. I just picked up my fork and started eating. The steak was dry and overdone and still pink in the center, and I hated every bite. I chewed like it was cardboard, like it was ashes, and I kept eating anyway because I didn’t want them to see me stop. He made steak. My least favorite. They didn’t even remember. I forced out a laugh—small and bitter and almost invisible—and swallowed it down with a sip of water. Jacob and Luther were setting a place at the table for her now, helping her sit up and encouraging her to eat like she was made of glass. She took their attention like it was her birthright, and every so often she glanced at me with eyes that said you lost. And then my phone buzzed. I glanced at it and saw the name: Mom. She’d sent me over a dozen photos of wedding dresses—lace and silk and heavy beading, dramatic trains and cathedral veils, each more extravagant than the last. I scrolled through them with numb fingers, pausing on the third one—a satin off-the-shoulder gown with a cinched waist and cascading ruffles. I tapped the call button before I could change my mind. She picked up on the third ring, her voice warm and full of anticipation. “Pearl, did you get the dresses? I think the third one would suit you best. But if your fiancé prefers white—” “I love the third,” I said quickly, and this time I made sure my voice was light, even cheerful. “It’s perfect. I can already picture it. I’m really… excited.” She paused, maybe surprised by the change in my tone. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad. I knew you'd love it once you really looked. You always liked the more classic silhouettes.” I nodded even though she couldn’t see me and forced a small laugh. “Yeah. I think it’ll be beautiful. I’m really looking forward to the WEDDING.” There was a flicker of movement across the room. I didn’t look up. “How much longer do you need over there?” she asked. “Just a week. I’ll finish up and be home.” “Good. Everything here’s almost ready.” I hung up and set the phone down on the table, and that’s when I felt it—that silence that isn’t empty, but heavy. Like breath being held. I looked up. Jacob and Luther were staring at me. Lavenia had frozen where she sat, a fork suspended halfway to her mouth. Her expression was still soft, still wounded, but her eyes had gone sharp. Jacob was the first to move. He stepped away from Lavenia and crossed the room in seconds, voice cutting. “Wedding?” Luther followed close behind, brows furrowed, jaw tight. “What wedding?” #LoveAndLies #SecondChance #Betrayal #LoveTriangle #RevengeAndRedemption 📚Only a limited number of chapters can be displayed here. Click "Read More" to open the application and continue reading (it will automatically navigate to the corresponding book page).👇👇👇
🔥💔They betrayed me, and when I was left for dead, a stranger saved me. Now, the man who cheated thinks he still has a chance—he’s wrong. I’m marrying someone else.💣💥 Chapter 1 "Your father arranged a marriage for you years ago. Now that your health’s stabilized… will you go through with it?" I didn’t hesitate. "Yes," I said, my voice flat. "Tell Father to prepare the paperwork. And make sure the wedding isn’t tacky. I’m not here for romance. I’m here to win." My mother didn’t flinch at my tone. She agreed, offered a few suggestions, and I gave her a list of my own before hanging up. It was supposed to be Lavenia’s birthday. One weekend on Jacob’s yacht. Glitter, champagne, fake smiles. Instead, I watched her kiss my boyfriend. Jacob. Upper deck. Frosting on her cheek. His hands on her waist. His brother, Luther—who used to be like a big brother to me—handing her a towel like this wasn’t betrayal in HD. Lavenia. My best friend. My ride-or-die since age nine. She used to braid my hair and swear she’d never touch what was mine. Now she’s licking cake off Jacob’s fingers like it’s foreplay. And Jacob? The man who bled for me. Who once called me his future. He didn’t even flinch when I walked past. Didn’t blink. I didn’t cry. Didn’t scream. I just came downstairs. Sea air thick in my lungs. Heart dead quiet. Sat on the velvet lounge sofa tucked into the yacht’s lower deck suite and called my mother. Because if I want revenge, I need power. And power doesn’t come from tears. A few minutes later, I heard designer heels tapping on the staircase. Then a knock on my cabin door. “Pearl?” a sugary voice chimed. I didn’t answer. She pushed the door open anyway. Lavenia waltzed in like she owned the yacht, carrying a Black Forest cake with one candle stuck dead center. Her makeup was flawless—glossy lips, fluttery lashes—but there were a few smudges of whipped cream on her cheek. Deliberate. Always. “Pearl, will you come upstairs? Everyone’s asking about you.” Her tone was sweet, eyes wide like some Disney deer. But I’d seen her fangs too many times. “No,” I said flatly, not even turning around. “I have work.” A flicker of something crossed her face. Disappointment? No. Calculation. “You don’t like me,” she said softly. “That’s why you’re always avoiding me.” I raised an eyebrow. “Are we doing this again?” She blinked rapidly, like she was about to cry on cue. And maybe she was. I’d seen her pull this routine on Jacob a thousand times. “I’m not in the mood, Lavenia. Save the performance for your fan club.” I moved toward the door. She stepped back—then suddenly stumbled, gasping as the cake flew from her hands and smashed across her chest, rich chocolate and whipped cream splattering like a crime scene. Right on cue, Jacob and Luther appeared at the top of the staircase like trained guard dogs. They rushed toward her, shoving past me like I didn’t exist. “Lavi! Oh my god—what happened?” Jacob’s voice was tight, eyes locked on her frosting-smeared dress. “She shoved me,” Lavenia whimpered, clutching the ruined cake like it was a mortal wound. “I was just trying to bring her something sweet. For old times. She—she pushed it into me.” I stared at her, stunned. “What?” “She what?” Luther’s eyes blazed. “Pearl, what the hell is wrong with you?” “I didn’t touch her,” I snapped. “She dropped it herself. You all saw nothing but you're ready to believe this?” Jacob didn’t even glance my way. He was too busy dabbing frosting off Lavenia’s shoulder like it was acid. “Lavi, does it hurt?” he murmured. She sniffled and leaned into his chest. “Just a little. It’s okay… I shouldn’t have bothered her. She hates me now.” “You were her best friend,” Luther said, glaring at me. “You were like sisters. She always called you her only real friend. And this is how you treat her? Because you're jealous?” Jealous. I laughed—quiet, bitter. “You two belong in a soap opera. All that’s missing is a coma and a fake baby.” Jacob turned, jaw clenched. “You’re going to apologize." I blinked. “Excuse me?” “You heard me,” he said, voice low and furious. “Apologize to Lavenia. Now.” I stared him down, arms crossed. “No.” His eyes narrowed. “Then forget about the wedding we planned. You don’t apologize by tomorrow, I’m not proposing to you next month. Consider it off the table.” Silence snapped tight between us. Luther scoffed behind him. “You still wanna marry her, bro? Her true colors are showing now. What a waste. If I were you, I’d never marry a woman like her.” I tilted my head slowly, eyes locked on him. “That’s why no one ever would,” I said, voice like satin over steel. Luther flushed. Jacob's jaw ticked. Lavenia looked positively radiant, loving every second of the chaos she brewed. Then I turned toward the side railing to head back inside—but Jacob’s hand gripped my wrist. I barely had time to blink before he shoved me. Over the rail. Into the sea. Splash. The cold hit me like knives. My lungs clenched. The darkness swallowed me whole. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream. Help. My hands flailed above the surface, mouth gasping, choking on salt and panic. The water dragged at me like an anchor. I didn’t know how to swim. They knew that. “Pearl?!” Lavenia’s voice rang out behind me, loud and dramatic. “Somebody help—Pearl doesn’t know how to swim!” But it wasn’t panic. It was a performance. “Let her be,” Jacob said coolly, standing above like a god with no mercy. “That’s for bullying you. She's pain in the ass and maybe she’ll learn something after this.” I couldn’t even gasp anymore. I sank. That’s when I felt arms break through the water—strong, foreign, unfamiliar. A hand wrapped around my waist. The pull of the surface returned. A stranger’s voice, low and steady. “I’ve got you.” I coughed violently as my head broke above water. Chapter 2 The yacht docked at port just after dawn. No one said a word to me. Not Jacob. Not Luther. Not even Lavenia, who had cried so hard last night I almost believed her. Almost. I stepped off the deck in silence, soaked to the marrow with salt and humiliation, my skin still chilled from nearly drowning—and not just in water. Jacob had pushed me. Straight into the dark waves. And he hadn’t even flinched. “That's what you get,” he’d said afterward. “For being jealous. For acting like the world owes you something.” Not a sorry. Not a hand offered. Not even a glance of regret. And when that stranger dove in, dragging me back to the dock—he vanished like mist. No name. No thanks. Just a blur in the crowd. A ghost in human form. I stumbled back to the apartment alone. Shaking. Done. The second I stepped inside, I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I packed. Drawers opened. Suitcases filled. Clothes. Passports. Hard drives. The necklace my grandmother gave me. Anything worth keeping—anything untouched by them—was coming with me. I was folding my last coat when my phone buzzed. A message from Lavenia. Not even pretending to be subtle this time. “Hey Pearl~ Check out my Insta! New pics!” The nerve. I tapped the screen, already knowing what I’d see. There she was again—crowned and smug. Draped in one of my silk robes, the pink one from Milan I’d left on the yacht. Jacob beside her, shirtless, half-asleep, his arm around her and his nose nearly grazing her almost exposed breast. Luther on her other side, holding her like she was some kind of queen. A queen of snakes. Caption: “Best night ever with my fav boys. Thanks for making my birthday unforgettable. I loved every whip and bit of cream you gave me. ” “And guess what, Pearl? Jacob gave me your brand-new car. Said it was his money anyway, and the color suits me better. But don’t worry—I’ll let you borrow it… if you say please.” Then she posted my car on her insta. I just laughed. I tapped the little heart under her post, let it turn red, and tossed my phone on the bed. Tomorrow, I’d be gone. And when I left, I wasn’t taking ghosts with me. *** I submitted my resignation at the firm that afternoon, handed it in with a smile and shook a few hands like I wasn’t dismantling my entire life. When I got back to the apartment, it was time for the final cut. I dragged out a worn leather box from under the bed—heavy with memories and promises. Inside were the tokens of my past with them, each one a shard of what we used to be. Jacob’s silver necklace, delicate and engraved with a secret phrase only we ever knew. Luther’s old cigarette lighter, battered and cold, but still weighted with memories of smoky nights and whispered secrets. The cracked glass of Jacob’s luxury watch, frozen in time, ticking no more. I pulled out the crumpled love letters Jacob had written me when I was sixteen—folded poems hidden away, words I’d believed once were forever. Alongside them, notes from Luther—carefully folded, tucked beneath my door during sleepless nights at college. There was the leather jacket Jacob promised would be mine forever, its worn sleeves smelling faintly of his cologne. Luther’s dented motorcycle helmet, the one we’d joked about racing across the countryside with. And the tiny music box that played our song—the one we all loved—now silent and gathering dust. Click. Flame. I set the edge of the leather jacket alight first. It curled, blackening quickly. I tossed in the letters, the necklace, the lighter, the watch. Each item caught fire, the flames licking hungrily at the remnants of us. By the time Jacob burst into the room, half my past was already ash. “Pearl—what the fuck are you doing?!” His voice cracked, eyes wild. I didn’t flinch. “Getting rid of mold.” “Bullshit!” He stepped closer, desperation in his voice. “These aren’t just things. They’re our memories.” Luther followed, eyes darting to the burning pile. He lunged to grab the map but yelped when the flames bit at his fingers. “You’re insane. You just destroyed everything we had.” I met his gaze, cold and steady. “You gave my car to Lavenia. She gets the gifts, she can keep the memories too.” “You’re really doing this? Are you still not done throwing tantrums? You ruined her birthday last night with your immaturity.” I smiled, bitter and calm. “Yeah. I’m done. This is the last time… you’ll ever see me.” They watched the smoke curl up to the ceiling, the ashes settling like the end of us. Funny how they almost burned the city down for Lavenia’s fake tears—but when I was breaking apart, not one of them asked why. Now, they cried over what was left in flames. Chapter 3 Jacob and Luther didn’t give up that easily. After seeing the photos burn, they tried to patch things up—two lost boys grasping at a thread. “Come on, Pearl,” Jacob said, rubbing the back of his neck like he was about to confess to a crime. “Let’s go out to dinner. Our treat.” Luther nodded, voice softer than usual. “Yeah. Our favorite restaurant. Let's go there. Please. Just one dinner. Let us make it right.” I said nothing but nodded. Inside, I already knew it would be our last night together. We rode in Jacob’s sleek black car, the silence thick and awkward like static between us. Then Luther’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and grimaced. “It’s Lavenia.” I heard the panic in his voice as he answered. “Lavenia? What’s wrong?” Her high-pitched voice shattered the quiet. “The power’s out... someone broke into the house. I’m so scared—there’s a thief. Please, come quick!” Jacob’s jaw tightened. He glanced at me and then back to Luther. “Pearl, get out.” “What?” I blinked, stunned. “We’ll be back after we check on Lavenia,” Jacob said sharply. “You can’t come with us.” Before I could argue, they opened the door and shoved me out onto the dark, wet street. Rain immediately soaked my hair and clothes. They didn’t even wait for me to reach shelter before speeding off, red taillights bleeding into the storm. I just stood there a moment, soaked to the bone, mascara bleeding like betrayal. Then I smiled. Bitter and clean. Because now I knew—this wasn’t the last dinner. This was the funeral feast. And they didn’t even realize they’d been attending their own eulogy. *** I kicked off my heels three blocks in. They were satin, too slippery in the rain, and my toes were already blistered. I held them by the straps as I walked barefoot down the soaked pavement, dress clinging to my skin, hair stuck to my neck, every breath colder than the last. No taxi stopped. Not one. They saw me, I know they did. Drivers slowed, took one look at the drenched girl limping through the dark, and sped up like I was a ghost they didn’t want to deal with. I didn’t cry. Not then. I turned into an alley I thought was a shortcut, thinking maybe if I just cut through to the main road I’d catch a cab or a bus or even collapse near a streetlamp like some poetic wreck. But the shortcut had teeth. He stepped out from behind a dumpster, face shadowed and hoodie soaked through. I saw the glint of the knife too late, felt the rough shove of his hand before I even registered what he said. Something about a wallet, maybe my bag, maybe my phone. I didn’t care. I fought back anyway. I punched and clawed and screamed until my throat broke open, and that’s when he stabbed me. Once in the gut, then again lower, and a third time when I tried to crawl away. The pain was sharp and hot and then cold, so cold it stole my breath. I remember falling. I remember the way the pavement kissed my cheek like a farewell. And then I remember headlights. A door slamming. Someone shouting my name. Arms lifting me. I tried to speak, tried to tell them to call my aunt, tell her I’m sorry, tell her I won’t be able to bring those cookies after all. But my lips didn’t move. My vision blurred into static. Then I saw him. That face. Him. The same stranger who had jumped into the ocean during Lavenia’s birthday party. The same man who pulled me out of the freezing water when Jacob pushed me from the yacht deck “by accident.” I thought I hallucinated him that night. I thought maybe the sea gave me an angel. But he was real. He looked down at me as I bled through his white dress shirt, cradled in his arms, soaked from rain and blood and regret. “Stay with me, Pearl,” he said, voice deep and calm and commanding. “You’re not dying tonight. Not like this.” “Who… are you?” I think I whispered. He gave the ghost of a smile. “Sebastian.” Then he vanished again. Not in smoke or light, but in the clean, cruel way people like him do—when a secretary called his name and he slipped from the hospital room without asking for thanks. I stayed there for a week. Tubes in my arms, stitches in my stomach, silence in my soul. No visitors. No calls. Not even my mom—I told the nurses not to tell her. What was the point? I needed to lie still and feel it. The death of whatever part of me still hoped someone would come. And then on the day I was discharged, still pale and in a hospital gown, they appeared. Lavenia was on a stretcher, bleeding from her arms, wrists wrapped in soaked gauze, mascara smeared across her perfect porcelain face. She wailed like a siren. Jacob held her hand, whispering something soft, and Luther was right behind, holding her bag like a loyal mule. I stood in the corridor and they passed me. And they froze. Jacob blinked like he saw a corpse. Luther looked like he’d been sucker-punched. Pearl? That was all Jacob said. I looked at them both, then down at the IV tape still on my hand. I hadn’t even changed yet. The nurses were packing my things. I was supposed to go home. Instead, I met them. “You’re here?” Luther asked, voice hollow. “You were in the hospital?” Jacob stepped forward, reaching, but I stepped back. I laughed. Not loud. Not crazy. Just broken. “You didn’t even know,” I said quietly, “I was here for a week. Fighting to live. And none of you even noticed I was gone.” Their mouths opened but no words came out. And behind them, Lavenia screamed again, stealing all their attention. Of course she did. And once again, they turned toward her. And once again, I walked away. This time barefoot. This time bleeding inside. This time—free. Chapter 4 The apartment was still dark when I arrived. No lights. No warmth. Just stale air and the faint scent of something rotting in the sink. I didn’t bother flipping the switch. I dropped my bag by the door and kicked it shut behind me, each step echoing too loudly in the silence. I didn’t even change. The hospital gown was thin under my hoodie, but I didn’t care. I collapsed onto the couch face-first, arms dangling over the side like I was boneless. The fabric scratched against my bandages, but exhaustion won. Sleep wasn’t kind. It never is when your dreams know the truth before your mouth does. Hours passed. I woke up groggy and sore, blinking into the darkness, and then I heard it. Clattering. From the kitchen. I sat up slowly, my body heavy and cold and aching, and I padded toward the sound with bare feet. I thought maybe I was imagining things, that maybe I had left the TV on or someone was breaking in, but when I turned the corner, I saw them. Jacob was at the stove, grilling steak. Luther stood by the counter, chopping vegetables with precise, clean movements. The table was already set—plates, cutlery, glasses, even a folded napkin at each seat. They both looked up when they saw me standing there. Jacob was the first to speak. “We thought you were at your aunt’s,” he said, like that explained everything. “We didn’t want to disturb you.” Luther looked guilty, eyes flicking down to his knife and then back to me. “We didn’t know you were in the hospital,” he said, voice low. I didn’t answer. I just walked in and sat down at the table. I didn’t touch the food. Jacob frowned and turned off the stove. “You have to eat. You just got discharged.” I looked at him then. Cold. Clear. “You didn’t check on me for a week.” The silence that followed was loud enough to split bone. No one moved. No one breathed. Then the doorbell rang. Jacob and Luther both turned toward it, and Luther moved first, walking quickly to open the door. Lavenia stood there. She was pale and fragile, her wrists wrapped in clean bandages hidden beneath the sleeves of a delicate blouse, and she looked like a porcelain doll that had cracked but hadn’t shattered yet. The moment they saw her, they moved. Jacob rushed to her and picked her up like she weighed nothing, carrying her in his arms and laying her gently down on the couch. “You shouldn’t be out,” he whispered, brushing the hair from her face. “What if something happens to you?” “I was alone in the hospital room,” she said, looking up at Jacob with those wide, doe eyes. “And I kept thinking what if I never woke up again? What if I opened my eyes and no one was there? I panicked. I didn’t want to be alone tonight.” Jacob softened immediately and moved toward her, but she raised a hand weakly. “If it’s too much, I can go back,” she whispered. “Really. I didn’t mean to be a burden.” “Hey, hey, no,” Jacob murmured, voice full of worry. “You’re not a burden, okay? You should’ve called sooner. We’ll take care of you.” Luther hovered behind Jacob and said, “We’ll go back to the hospital after we check on Pearl. Then we’ll stay with you tonight.” I didn’t speak. I just picked up my fork and started eating. The steak was dry and overdone and still pink in the center, and I hated every bite. I chewed like it was cardboard, like it was ashes, and I kept eating anyway because I didn’t want them to see me stop. He made steak. My least favorite. They didn’t even remember. I forced out a laugh—small and bitter and almost invisible—and swallowed it down with a sip of water. Jacob and Luther were setting a place at the table for her now, helping her sit up and encouraging her to eat like she was made of glass. She took their attention like it was her birthright, and every so often she glanced at me with eyes that said you lost. And then my phone buzzed. I glanced at it and saw the name: Mom. She’d sent me over a dozen photos of wedding dresses—lace and silk and heavy beading, dramatic trains and cathedral veils, each more extravagant than the last. I scrolled through them with numb fingers, pausing on the third one—a satin off-the-shoulder gown with a cinched waist and cascading ruffles. I tapped the call button before I could change my mind. She picked up on the third ring, her voice warm and full of anticipation. “Pearl, did you get the dresses? I think the third one would suit you best. But if your fiancé prefers white—” “I love the third,” I said quickly, and this time I made sure my voice was light, even cheerful. “It’s perfect. I can already picture it. I’m really… excited.” She paused, maybe surprised by the change in my tone. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad. I knew you'd love it once you really looked. You always liked the more classic silhouettes.” I nodded even though she couldn’t see me and forced a small laugh. “Yeah. I think it’ll be beautiful. I’m really looking forward to the WEDDING.” There was a flicker of movement across the room. I didn’t look up. “How much longer do you need over there?” she asked. “Just a week. I’ll finish up and be home.” “Good. Everything here’s almost ready.” I hung up and set the phone down on the table, and that’s when I felt it—that silence that isn’t empty, but heavy. Like breath being held. I looked up. Jacob and Luther were staring at me. Lavenia had frozen where she sat, a fork suspended halfway to her mouth. Her expression was still soft, still wounded, but her eyes had gone sharp. Jacob was the first to move. He stepped away from Lavenia and crossed the room in seconds, voice cutting. “Wedding?” Luther followed close behind, brows furrowed, jaw tight. “What wedding?” #LoveAndLies #SecondChance #Betrayal #LoveTriangle #RevengeAndRedemption 📚Only a limited number of chapters can be displayed here. Click "Read More" to open the application and continue reading (it will automatically navigate to the corresponding book page).👇👇👇
🔥💔They betrayed me, and when I was left for dead, a stranger saved me. Now, the man who cheated thinks he still has a chance—he’s wrong. I’m marrying someone else.💣💥 Chapter 1 "Your father arranged a marriage for you years ago. Now that your health’s stabilized… will you go through with it?" I didn’t hesitate. "Yes," I said, my voice flat. "Tell Father to prepare the paperwork. And make sure the wedding isn’t tacky. I’m not here for romance. I’m here to win." My mother didn’t flinch at my tone. She agreed, offered a few suggestions, and I gave her a list of my own before hanging up. It was supposed to be Lavenia’s birthday. One weekend on Jacob’s yacht. Glitter, champagne, fake smiles. Instead, I watched her kiss my boyfriend. Jacob. Upper deck. Frosting on her cheek. His hands on her waist. His brother, Luther—who used to be like a big brother to me—handing her a towel like this wasn’t betrayal in HD. Lavenia. My best friend. My ride-or-die since age nine. She used to braid my hair and swear she’d never touch what was mine. Now she’s licking cake off Jacob’s fingers like it’s foreplay. And Jacob? The man who bled for me. Who once called me his future. He didn’t even flinch when I walked past. Didn’t blink. I didn’t cry. Didn’t scream. I just came downstairs. Sea air thick in my lungs. Heart dead quiet. Sat on the velvet lounge sofa tucked into the yacht’s lower deck suite and called my mother. Because if I want revenge, I need power. And power doesn’t come from tears. A few minutes later, I heard designer heels tapping on the staircase. Then a knock on my cabin door. “Pearl?” a sugary voice chimed. I didn’t answer. She pushed the door open anyway. Lavenia waltzed in like she owned the yacht, carrying a Black Forest cake with one candle stuck dead center. Her makeup was flawless—glossy lips, fluttery lashes—but there were a few smudges of whipped cream on her cheek. Deliberate. Always. “Pearl, will you come upstairs? Everyone’s asking about you.” Her tone was sweet, eyes wide like some Disney deer. But I’d seen her fangs too many times. “No,” I said flatly, not even turning around. “I have work.” A flicker of something crossed her face. Disappointment? No. Calculation. “You don’t like me,” she said softly. “That’s why you’re always avoiding me.” I raised an eyebrow. “Are we doing this again?” She blinked rapidly, like she was about to cry on cue. And maybe she was. I’d seen her pull this routine on Jacob a thousand times. “I’m not in the mood, Lavenia. Save the performance for your fan club.” I moved toward the door. She stepped back—then suddenly stumbled, gasping as the cake flew from her hands and smashed across her chest, rich chocolate and whipped cream splattering like a crime scene. Right on cue, Jacob and Luther appeared at the top of the staircase like trained guard dogs. They rushed toward her, shoving past me like I didn’t exist. “Lavi! Oh my god—what happened?” Jacob’s voice was tight, eyes locked on her frosting-smeared dress. “She shoved me,” Lavenia whimpered, clutching the ruined cake like it was a mortal wound. “I was just trying to bring her something sweet. For old times. She—she pushed it into me.” I stared at her, stunned. “What?” “She what?” Luther’s eyes blazed. “Pearl, what the hell is wrong with you?” “I didn’t touch her,” I snapped. “She dropped it herself. You all saw nothing but you're ready to believe this?” Jacob didn’t even glance my way. He was too busy dabbing frosting off Lavenia’s shoulder like it was acid. “Lavi, does it hurt?” he murmured. She sniffled and leaned into his chest. “Just a little. It’s okay… I shouldn’t have bothered her. She hates me now.” “You were her best friend,” Luther said, glaring at me. “You were like sisters. She always called you her only real friend. And this is how you treat her? Because you're jealous?” Jealous. I laughed—quiet, bitter. “You two belong in a soap opera. All that’s missing is a coma and a fake baby.” Jacob turned, jaw clenched. “You’re going to apologize." I blinked. “Excuse me?” “You heard me,” he said, voice low and furious. “Apologize to Lavenia. Now.” I stared him down, arms crossed. “No.” His eyes narrowed. “Then forget about the wedding we planned. You don’t apologize by tomorrow, I’m not proposing to you next month. Consider it off the table.” Silence snapped tight between us. Luther scoffed behind him. “You still wanna marry her, bro? Her true colors are showing now. What a waste. If I were you, I’d never marry a woman like her.” I tilted my head slowly, eyes locked on him. “That’s why no one ever would,” I said, voice like satin over steel. Luther flushed. Jacob's jaw ticked. Lavenia looked positively radiant, loving every second of the chaos she brewed. Then I turned toward the side railing to head back inside—but Jacob’s hand gripped my wrist. I barely had time to blink before he shoved me. Over the rail. Into the sea. Splash. The cold hit me like knives. My lungs clenched. The darkness swallowed me whole. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream. Help. My hands flailed above the surface, mouth gasping, choking on salt and panic. The water dragged at me like an anchor. I didn’t know how to swim. They knew that. “Pearl?!” Lavenia’s voice rang out behind me, loud and dramatic. “Somebody help—Pearl doesn’t know how to swim!” But it wasn’t panic. It was a performance. “Let her be,” Jacob said coolly, standing above like a god with no mercy. “That’s for bullying you. She's pain in the ass and maybe she’ll learn something after this.” I couldn’t even gasp anymore. I sank. That’s when I felt arms break through the water—strong, foreign, unfamiliar. A hand wrapped around my waist. The pull of the surface returned. A stranger’s voice, low and steady. “I’ve got you.” I coughed violently as my head broke above water. Chapter 2 The yacht docked at port just after dawn. No one said a word to me. Not Jacob. Not Luther. Not even Lavenia, who had cried so hard last night I almost believed her. Almost. I stepped off the deck in silence, soaked to the marrow with salt and humiliation, my skin still chilled from nearly drowning—and not just in water. Jacob had pushed me. Straight into the dark waves. And he hadn’t even flinched. “That's what you get,” he’d said afterward. “For being jealous. For acting like the world owes you something.” Not a sorry. Not a hand offered. Not even a glance of regret. And when that stranger dove in, dragging me back to the dock—he vanished like mist. No name. No thanks. Just a blur in the crowd. A ghost in human form. I stumbled back to the apartment alone. Shaking. Done. The second I stepped inside, I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I packed. Drawers opened. Suitcases filled. Clothes. Passports. Hard drives. The necklace my grandmother gave me. Anything worth keeping—anything untouched by them—was coming with me. I was folding my last coat when my phone buzzed. A message from Lavenia. Not even pretending to be subtle this time. “Hey Pearl~ Check out my Insta! New pics!” The nerve. I tapped the screen, already knowing what I’d see. There she was again—crowned and smug. Draped in one of my silk robes, the pink one from Milan I’d left on the yacht. Jacob beside her, shirtless, half-asleep, his arm around her and his nose nearly grazing her almost exposed breast. Luther on her other side, holding her like she was some kind of queen. A queen of snakes. Caption: “Best night ever with my fav boys. Thanks for making my birthday unforgettable. I loved every whip and bit of cream you gave me. ” “And guess what, Pearl? Jacob gave me your brand-new car. Said it was his money anyway, and the color suits me better. But don’t worry—I’ll let you borrow it… if you say please.” Then she posted my car on her insta. I just laughed. I tapped the little heart under her post, let it turn red, and tossed my phone on the bed. Tomorrow, I’d be gone. And when I left, I wasn’t taking ghosts with me. *** I submitted my resignation at the firm that afternoon, handed it in with a smile and shook a few hands like I wasn’t dismantling my entire life. When I got back to the apartment, it was time for the final cut. I dragged out a worn leather box from under the bed—heavy with memories and promises. Inside were the tokens of my past with them, each one a shard of what we used to be. Jacob’s silver necklace, delicate and engraved with a secret phrase only we ever knew. Luther’s old cigarette lighter, battered and cold, but still weighted with memories of smoky nights and whispered secrets. The cracked glass of Jacob’s luxury watch, frozen in time, ticking no more. I pulled out the crumpled love letters Jacob had written me when I was sixteen—folded poems hidden away, words I’d believed once were forever. Alongside them, notes from Luther—carefully folded, tucked beneath my door during sleepless nights at college. There was the leather jacket Jacob promised would be mine forever, its worn sleeves smelling faintly of his cologne. Luther’s dented motorcycle helmet, the one we’d joked about racing across the countryside with. And the tiny music box that played our song—the one we all loved—now silent and gathering dust. Click. Flame. I set the edge of the leather jacket alight first. It curled, blackening quickly. I tossed in the letters, the necklace, the lighter, the watch. Each item caught fire, the flames licking hungrily at the remnants of us. By the time Jacob burst into the room, half my past was already ash. “Pearl—what the fuck are you doing?!” His voice cracked, eyes wild. I didn’t flinch. “Getting rid of mold.” “Bullshit!” He stepped closer, desperation in his voice. “These aren’t just things. They’re our memories.” Luther followed, eyes darting to the burning pile. He lunged to grab the map but yelped when the flames bit at his fingers. “You’re insane. You just destroyed everything we had.” I met his gaze, cold and steady. “You gave my car to Lavenia. She gets the gifts, she can keep the memories too.” “You’re really doing this? Are you still not done throwing tantrums? You ruined her birthday last night with your immaturity.” I smiled, bitter and calm. “Yeah. I’m done. This is the last time… you’ll ever see me.” They watched the smoke curl up to the ceiling, the ashes settling like the end of us. Funny how they almost burned the city down for Lavenia’s fake tears—but when I was breaking apart, not one of them asked why. Now, they cried over what was left in flames. Chapter 3 Jacob and Luther didn’t give up that easily. After seeing the photos burn, they tried to patch things up—two lost boys grasping at a thread. “Come on, Pearl,” Jacob said, rubbing the back of his neck like he was about to confess to a crime. “Let’s go out to dinner. Our treat.” Luther nodded, voice softer than usual. “Yeah. Our favorite restaurant. Let's go there. Please. Just one dinner. Let us make it right.” I said nothing but nodded. Inside, I already knew it would be our last night together. We rode in Jacob’s sleek black car, the silence thick and awkward like static between us. Then Luther’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and grimaced. “It’s Lavenia.” I heard the panic in his voice as he answered. “Lavenia? What’s wrong?” Her high-pitched voice shattered the quiet. “The power’s out... someone broke into the house. I’m so scared—there’s a thief. Please, come quick!” Jacob’s jaw tightened. He glanced at me and then back to Luther. “Pearl, get out.” “What?” I blinked, stunned. “We’ll be back after we check on Lavenia,” Jacob said sharply. “You can’t come with us.” Before I could argue, they opened the door and shoved me out onto the dark, wet street. Rain immediately soaked my hair and clothes. They didn’t even wait for me to reach shelter before speeding off, red taillights bleeding into the storm. I just stood there a moment, soaked to the bone, mascara bleeding like betrayal. Then I smiled. Bitter and clean. Because now I knew—this wasn’t the last dinner. This was the funeral feast. And they didn’t even realize they’d been attending their own eulogy. *** I kicked off my heels three blocks in. They were satin, too slippery in the rain, and my toes were already blistered. I held them by the straps as I walked barefoot down the soaked pavement, dress clinging to my skin, hair stuck to my neck, every breath colder than the last. No taxi stopped. Not one. They saw me, I know they did. Drivers slowed, took one look at the drenched girl limping through the dark, and sped up like I was a ghost they didn’t want to deal with. I didn’t cry. Not then. I turned into an alley I thought was a shortcut, thinking maybe if I just cut through to the main road I’d catch a cab or a bus or even collapse near a streetlamp like some poetic wreck. But the shortcut had teeth. He stepped out from behind a dumpster, face shadowed and hoodie soaked through. I saw the glint of the knife too late, felt the rough shove of his hand before I even registered what he said. Something about a wallet, maybe my bag, maybe my phone. I didn’t care. I fought back anyway. I punched and clawed and screamed until my throat broke open, and that’s when he stabbed me. Once in the gut, then again lower, and a third time when I tried to crawl away. The pain was sharp and hot and then cold, so cold it stole my breath. I remember falling. I remember the way the pavement kissed my cheek like a farewell. And then I remember headlights. A door slamming. Someone shouting my name. Arms lifting me. I tried to speak, tried to tell them to call my aunt, tell her I’m sorry, tell her I won’t be able to bring those cookies after all. But my lips didn’t move. My vision blurred into static. Then I saw him. That face. Him. The same stranger who had jumped into the ocean during Lavenia’s birthday party. The same man who pulled me out of the freezing water when Jacob pushed me from the yacht deck “by accident.” I thought I hallucinated him that night. I thought maybe the sea gave me an angel. But he was real. He looked down at me as I bled through his white dress shirt, cradled in his arms, soaked from rain and blood and regret. “Stay with me, Pearl,” he said, voice deep and calm and commanding. “You’re not dying tonight. Not like this.” “Who… are you?” I think I whispered. He gave the ghost of a smile. “Sebastian.” Then he vanished again. Not in smoke or light, but in the clean, cruel way people like him do—when a secretary called his name and he slipped from the hospital room without asking for thanks. I stayed there for a week. Tubes in my arms, stitches in my stomach, silence in my soul. No visitors. No calls. Not even my mom—I told the nurses not to tell her. What was the point? I needed to lie still and feel it. The death of whatever part of me still hoped someone would come. And then on the day I was discharged, still pale and in a hospital gown, they appeared. Lavenia was on a stretcher, bleeding from her arms, wrists wrapped in soaked gauze, mascara smeared across her perfect porcelain face. She wailed like a siren. Jacob held her hand, whispering something soft, and Luther was right behind, holding her bag like a loyal mule. I stood in the corridor and they passed me. And they froze. Jacob blinked like he saw a corpse. Luther looked like he’d been sucker-punched. Pearl? That was all Jacob said. I looked at them both, then down at the IV tape still on my hand. I hadn’t even changed yet. The nurses were packing my things. I was supposed to go home. Instead, I met them. “You’re here?” Luther asked, voice hollow. “You were in the hospital?” Jacob stepped forward, reaching, but I stepped back. I laughed. Not loud. Not crazy. Just broken. “You didn’t even know,” I said quietly, “I was here for a week. Fighting to live. And none of you even noticed I was gone.” Their mouths opened but no words came out. And behind them, Lavenia screamed again, stealing all their attention. Of course she did. And once again, they turned toward her. And once again, I walked away. This time barefoot. This time bleeding inside. This time—free. Chapter 4 The apartment was still dark when I arrived. No lights. No warmth. Just stale air and the faint scent of something rotting in the sink. I didn’t bother flipping the switch. I dropped my bag by the door and kicked it shut behind me, each step echoing too loudly in the silence. I didn’t even change. The hospital gown was thin under my hoodie, but I didn’t care. I collapsed onto the couch face-first, arms dangling over the side like I was boneless. The fabric scratched against my bandages, but exhaustion won. Sleep wasn’t kind. It never is when your dreams know the truth before your mouth does. Hours passed. I woke up groggy and sore, blinking into the darkness, and then I heard it. Clattering. From the kitchen. I sat up slowly, my body heavy and cold and aching, and I padded toward the sound with bare feet. I thought maybe I was imagining things, that maybe I had left the TV on or someone was breaking in, but when I turned the corner, I saw them. Jacob was at the stove, grilling steak. Luther stood by the counter, chopping vegetables with precise, clean movements. The table was already set—plates, cutlery, glasses, even a folded napkin at each seat. They both looked up when they saw me standing there. Jacob was the first to speak. “We thought you were at your aunt’s,” he said, like that explained everything. “We didn’t want to disturb you.” Luther looked guilty, eyes flicking down to his knife and then back to me. “We didn’t know you were in the hospital,” he said, voice low. I didn’t answer. I just walked in and sat down at the table. I didn’t touch the food. Jacob frowned and turned off the stove. “You have to eat. You just got discharged.” I looked at him then. Cold. Clear. “You didn’t check on me for a week.” The silence that followed was loud enough to split bone. No one moved. No one breathed. Then the doorbell rang. Jacob and Luther both turned toward it, and Luther moved first, walking quickly to open the door. Lavenia stood there. She was pale and fragile, her wrists wrapped in clean bandages hidden beneath the sleeves of a delicate blouse, and she looked like a porcelain doll that had cracked but hadn’t shattered yet. The moment they saw her, they moved. Jacob rushed to her and picked her up like she weighed nothing, carrying her in his arms and laying her gently down on the couch. “You shouldn’t be out,” he whispered, brushing the hair from her face. “What if something happens to you?” “I was alone in the hospital room,” she said, looking up at Jacob with those wide, doe eyes. “And I kept thinking what if I never woke up again? What if I opened my eyes and no one was there? I panicked. I didn’t want to be alone tonight.” Jacob softened immediately and moved toward her, but she raised a hand weakly. “If it’s too much, I can go back,” she whispered. “Really. I didn’t mean to be a burden.” “Hey, hey, no,” Jacob murmured, voice full of worry. “You’re not a burden, okay? You should’ve called sooner. We’ll take care of you.” Luther hovered behind Jacob and said, “We’ll go back to the hospital after we check on Pearl. Then we’ll stay with you tonight.” I didn’t speak. I just picked up my fork and started eating. The steak was dry and overdone and still pink in the center, and I hated every bite. I chewed like it was cardboard, like it was ashes, and I kept eating anyway because I didn’t want them to see me stop. He made steak. My least favorite. They didn’t even remember. I forced out a laugh—small and bitter and almost invisible—and swallowed it down with a sip of water. Jacob and Luther were setting a place at the table for her now, helping her sit up and encouraging her to eat like she was made of glass. She took their attention like it was her birthright, and every so often she glanced at me with eyes that said you lost. And then my phone buzzed. I glanced at it and saw the name: Mom. She’d sent me over a dozen photos of wedding dresses—lace and silk and heavy beading, dramatic trains and cathedral veils, each more extravagant than the last. I scrolled through them with numb fingers, pausing on the third one—a satin off-the-shoulder gown with a cinched waist and cascading ruffles. I tapped the call button before I could change my mind. She picked up on the third ring, her voice warm and full of anticipation. “Pearl, did you get the dresses? I think the third one would suit you best. But if your fiancé prefers white—” “I love the third,” I said quickly, and this time I made sure my voice was light, even cheerful. “It’s perfect. I can already picture it. I’m really… excited.” She paused, maybe surprised by the change in my tone. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad. I knew you'd love it once you really looked. You always liked the more classic silhouettes.” I nodded even though she couldn’t see me and forced a small laugh. “Yeah. I think it’ll be beautiful. I’m really looking forward to the WEDDING.” There was a flicker of movement across the room. I didn’t look up. “How much longer do you need over there?” she asked. “Just a week. I’ll finish up and be home.” “Good. Everything here’s almost ready.” I hung up and set the phone down on the table, and that’s when I felt it—that silence that isn’t empty, but heavy. Like breath being held. I looked up. Jacob and Luther were staring at me. Lavenia had frozen where she sat, a fork suspended halfway to her mouth. Her expression was still soft, still wounded, but her eyes had gone sharp. Jacob was the first to move. He stepped away from Lavenia and crossed the room in seconds, voice cutting. “Wedding?” Luther followed close behind, brows furrowed, jaw tight. “What wedding?” #LoveAndLies #SecondChance #Betrayal #LoveTriangle #RevengeAndRedemption 📚Only a limited number of chapters can be displayed here. Click "Read More" to open the application and continue reading (it will automatically navigate to the corresponding book page).👇👇👇
🔥💔They betrayed me, and when I was left for dead, a stranger saved me. Now, the man who cheated thinks he still has a chance—he’s wrong. I’m marrying someone else.💣💥 Chapter 1 "Your father arranged a marriage for you years ago. Now that your health’s stabilized… will you go through with it?" I didn’t hesitate. "Yes," I said, my voice flat. "Tell Father to prepare the paperwork. And make sure the wedding isn’t tacky. I’m not here for romance. I’m here to win." My mother didn’t flinch at my tone. She agreed, offered a few suggestions, and I gave her a list of my own before hanging up. It was supposed to be Lavenia’s birthday. One weekend on Jacob’s yacht. Glitter, champagne, fake smiles. Instead, I watched her kiss my boyfriend. Jacob. Upper deck. Frosting on her cheek. His hands on her waist. His brother, Luther—who used to be like a big brother to me—handing her a towel like this wasn’t betrayal in HD. Lavenia. My best friend. My ride-or-die since age nine. She used to braid my hair and swear she’d never touch what was mine. Now she’s licking cake off Jacob’s fingers like it’s foreplay. And Jacob? The man who bled for me. Who once called me his future. He didn’t even flinch when I walked past. Didn’t blink. I didn’t cry. Didn’t scream. I just came downstairs. Sea air thick in my lungs. Heart dead quiet. Sat on the velvet lounge sofa tucked into the yacht’s lower deck suite and called my mother. Because if I want revenge, I need power. And power doesn’t come from tears. A few minutes later, I heard designer heels tapping on the staircase. Then a knock on my cabin door. “Pearl?” a sugary voice chimed. I didn’t answer. She pushed the door open anyway. Lavenia waltzed in like she owned the yacht, carrying a Black Forest cake with one candle stuck dead center. Her makeup was flawless—glossy lips, fluttery lashes—but there were a few smudges of whipped cream on her cheek. Deliberate. Always. “Pearl, will you come upstairs? Everyone’s asking about you.” Her tone was sweet, eyes wide like some Disney deer. But I’d seen her fangs too many times. “No,” I said flatly, not even turning around. “I have work.” A flicker of something crossed her face. Disappointment? No. Calculation. “You don’t like me,” she said softly. “That’s why you’re always avoiding me.” I raised an eyebrow. “Are we doing this again?” She blinked rapidly, like she was about to cry on cue. And maybe she was. I’d seen her pull this routine on Jacob a thousand times. “I’m not in the mood, Lavenia. Save the performance for your fan club.” I moved toward the door. She stepped back—then suddenly stumbled, gasping as the cake flew from her hands and smashed across her chest, rich chocolate and whipped cream splattering like a crime scene. Right on cue, Jacob and Luther appeared at the top of the staircase like trained guard dogs. They rushed toward her, shoving past me like I didn’t exist. “Lavi! Oh my god—what happened?” Jacob’s voice was tight, eyes locked on her frosting-smeared dress. “She shoved me,” Lavenia whimpered, clutching the ruined cake like it was a mortal wound. “I was just trying to bring her something sweet. For old times. She—she pushed it into me.” I stared at her, stunned. “What?” “She what?” Luther’s eyes blazed. “Pearl, what the hell is wrong with you?” “I didn’t touch her,” I snapped. “She dropped it herself. You all saw nothing but you're ready to believe this?” Jacob didn’t even glance my way. He was too busy dabbing frosting off Lavenia’s shoulder like it was acid. “Lavi, does it hurt?” he murmured. She sniffled and leaned into his chest. “Just a little. It’s okay… I shouldn’t have bothered her. She hates me now.” “You were her best friend,” Luther said, glaring at me. “You were like sisters. She always called you her only real friend. And this is how you treat her? Because you're jealous?” Jealous. I laughed—quiet, bitter. “You two belong in a soap opera. All that’s missing is a coma and a fake baby.” Jacob turned, jaw clenched. “You’re going to apologize." I blinked. “Excuse me?” “You heard me,” he said, voice low and furious. “Apologize to Lavenia. Now.” I stared him down, arms crossed. “No.” His eyes narrowed. “Then forget about the wedding we planned. You don’t apologize by tomorrow, I’m not proposing to you next month. Consider it off the table.” Silence snapped tight between us. Luther scoffed behind him. “You still wanna marry her, bro? Her true colors are showing now. What a waste. If I were you, I’d never marry a woman like her.” I tilted my head slowly, eyes locked on him. “That’s why no one ever would,” I said, voice like satin over steel. Luther flushed. Jacob's jaw ticked. Lavenia looked positively radiant, loving every second of the chaos she brewed. Then I turned toward the side railing to head back inside—but Jacob’s hand gripped my wrist. I barely had time to blink before he shoved me. Over the rail. Into the sea. Splash. The cold hit me like knives. My lungs clenched. The darkness swallowed me whole. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream. Help. My hands flailed above the surface, mouth gasping, choking on salt and panic. The water dragged at me like an anchor. I didn’t know how to swim. They knew that. “Pearl?!” Lavenia’s voice rang out behind me, loud and dramatic. “Somebody help—Pearl doesn’t know how to swim!” But it wasn’t panic. It was a performance. “Let her be,” Jacob said coolly, standing above like a god with no mercy. “That’s for bullying you. She's pain in the ass and maybe she’ll learn something after this.” I couldn’t even gasp anymore. I sank. That’s when I felt arms break through the water—strong, foreign, unfamiliar. A hand wrapped around my waist. The pull of the surface returned. A stranger’s voice, low and steady. “I’ve got you.” I coughed violently as my head broke above water. Chapter 2 The yacht docked at port just after dawn. No one said a word to me. Not Jacob. Not Luther. Not even Lavenia, who had cried so hard last night I almost believed her. Almost. I stepped off the deck in silence, soaked to the marrow with salt and humiliation, my skin still chilled from nearly drowning—and not just in water. Jacob had pushed me. Straight into the dark waves. And he hadn’t even flinched. “That's what you get,” he’d said afterward. “For being jealous. For acting like the world owes you something.” Not a sorry. Not a hand offered. Not even a glance of regret. And when that stranger dove in, dragging me back to the dock—he vanished like mist. No name. No thanks. Just a blur in the crowd. A ghost in human form. I stumbled back to the apartment alone. Shaking. Done. The second I stepped inside, I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I packed. Drawers opened. Suitcases filled. Clothes. Passports. Hard drives. The necklace my grandmother gave me. Anything worth keeping—anything untouched by them—was coming with me. I was folding my last coat when my phone buzzed. A message from Lavenia. Not even pretending to be subtle this time. “Hey Pearl~ Check out my Insta! New pics!” The nerve. I tapped the screen, already knowing what I’d see. There she was again—crowned and smug. Draped in one of my silk robes, the pink one from Milan I’d left on the yacht. Jacob beside her, shirtless, half-asleep, his arm around her and his nose nearly grazing her almost exposed breast. Luther on her other side, holding her like she was some kind of queen. A queen of snakes. Caption: “Best night ever with my fav boys. Thanks for making my birthday unforgettable. I loved every whip and bit of cream you gave me. ” “And guess what, Pearl? Jacob gave me your brand-new car. Said it was his money anyway, and the color suits me better. But don’t worry—I’ll let you borrow it… if you say please.” Then she posted my car on her insta. I just laughed. I tapped the little heart under her post, let it turn red, and tossed my phone on the bed. Tomorrow, I’d be gone. And when I left, I wasn’t taking ghosts with me. *** I submitted my resignation at the firm that afternoon, handed it in with a smile and shook a few hands like I wasn’t dismantling my entire life. When I got back to the apartment, it was time for the final cut. I dragged out a worn leather box from under the bed—heavy with memories and promises. Inside were the tokens of my past with them, each one a shard of what we used to be. Jacob’s silver necklace, delicate and engraved with a secret phrase only we ever knew. Luther’s old cigarette lighter, battered and cold, but still weighted with memories of smoky nights and whispered secrets. The cracked glass of Jacob’s luxury watch, frozen in time, ticking no more. I pulled out the crumpled love letters Jacob had written me when I was sixteen—folded poems hidden away, words I’d believed once were forever. Alongside them, notes from Luther—carefully folded, tucked beneath my door during sleepless nights at college. There was the leather jacket Jacob promised would be mine forever, its worn sleeves smelling faintly of his cologne. Luther’s dented motorcycle helmet, the one we’d joked about racing across the countryside with. And the tiny music box that played our song—the one we all loved—now silent and gathering dust. Click. Flame. I set the edge of the leather jacket alight first. It curled, blackening quickly. I tossed in the letters, the necklace, the lighter, the watch. Each item caught fire, the flames licking hungrily at the remnants of us. By the time Jacob burst into the room, half my past was already ash. “Pearl—what the fuck are you doing?!” His voice cracked, eyes wild. I didn’t flinch. “Getting rid of mold.” “Bullshit!” He stepped closer, desperation in his voice. “These aren’t just things. They’re our memories.” Luther followed, eyes darting to the burning pile. He lunged to grab the map but yelped when the flames bit at his fingers. “You’re insane. You just destroyed everything we had.” I met his gaze, cold and steady. “You gave my car to Lavenia. She gets the gifts, she can keep the memories too.” “You’re really doing this? Are you still not done throwing tantrums? You ruined her birthday last night with your immaturity.” I smiled, bitter and calm. “Yeah. I’m done. This is the last time… you’ll ever see me.” They watched the smoke curl up to the ceiling, the ashes settling like the end of us. Funny how they almost burned the city down for Lavenia’s fake tears—but when I was breaking apart, not one of them asked why. Now, they cried over what was left in flames. Chapter 3 Jacob and Luther didn’t give up that easily. After seeing the photos burn, they tried to patch things up—two lost boys grasping at a thread. “Come on, Pearl,” Jacob said, rubbing the back of his neck like he was about to confess to a crime. “Let’s go out to dinner. Our treat.” Luther nodded, voice softer than usual. “Yeah. Our favorite restaurant. Let's go there. Please. Just one dinner. Let us make it right.” I said nothing but nodded. Inside, I already knew it would be our last night together. We rode in Jacob’s sleek black car, the silence thick and awkward like static between us. Then Luther’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and grimaced. “It’s Lavenia.” I heard the panic in his voice as he answered. “Lavenia? What’s wrong?” Her high-pitched voice shattered the quiet. “The power’s out... someone broke into the house. I’m so scared—there’s a thief. Please, come quick!” Jacob’s jaw tightened. He glanced at me and then back to Luther. “Pearl, get out.” “What?” I blinked, stunned. “We’ll be back after we check on Lavenia,” Jacob said sharply. “You can’t come with us.” Before I could argue, they opened the door and shoved me out onto the dark, wet street. Rain immediately soaked my hair and clothes. They didn’t even wait for me to reach shelter before speeding off, red taillights bleeding into the storm. I just stood there a moment, soaked to the bone, mascara bleeding like betrayal. Then I smiled. Bitter and clean. Because now I knew—this wasn’t the last dinner. This was the funeral feast. And they didn’t even realize they’d been attending their own eulogy. *** I kicked off my heels three blocks in. They were satin, too slippery in the rain, and my toes were already blistered. I held them by the straps as I walked barefoot down the soaked pavement, dress clinging to my skin, hair stuck to my neck, every breath colder than the last. No taxi stopped. Not one. They saw me, I know they did. Drivers slowed, took one look at the drenched girl limping through the dark, and sped up like I was a ghost they didn’t want to deal with. I didn’t cry. Not then. I turned into an alley I thought was a shortcut, thinking maybe if I just cut through to the main road I’d catch a cab or a bus or even collapse near a streetlamp like some poetic wreck. But the shortcut had teeth. He stepped out from behind a dumpster, face shadowed and hoodie soaked through. I saw the glint of the knife too late, felt the rough shove of his hand before I even registered what he said. Something about a wallet, maybe my bag, maybe my phone. I didn’t care. I fought back anyway. I punched and clawed and screamed until my throat broke open, and that’s when he stabbed me. Once in the gut, then again lower, and a third time when I tried to crawl away. The pain was sharp and hot and then cold, so cold it stole my breath. I remember falling. I remember the way the pavement kissed my cheek like a farewell. And then I remember headlights. A door slamming. Someone shouting my name. Arms lifting me. I tried to speak, tried to tell them to call my aunt, tell her I’m sorry, tell her I won’t be able to bring those cookies after all. But my lips didn’t move. My vision blurred into static. Then I saw him. That face. Him. The same stranger who had jumped into the ocean during Lavenia’s birthday party. The same man who pulled me out of the freezing water when Jacob pushed me from the yacht deck “by accident.” I thought I hallucinated him that night. I thought maybe the sea gave me an angel. But he was real. He looked down at me as I bled through his white dress shirt, cradled in his arms, soaked from rain and blood and regret. “Stay with me, Pearl,” he said, voice deep and calm and commanding. “You’re not dying tonight. Not like this.” “Who… are you?” I think I whispered. He gave the ghost of a smile. “Sebastian.” Then he vanished again. Not in smoke or light, but in the clean, cruel way people like him do—when a secretary called his name and he slipped from the hospital room without asking for thanks. I stayed there for a week. Tubes in my arms, stitches in my stomach, silence in my soul. No visitors. No calls. Not even my mom—I told the nurses not to tell her. What was the point? I needed to lie still and feel it. The death of whatever part of me still hoped someone would come. And then on the day I was discharged, still pale and in a hospital gown, they appeared. Lavenia was on a stretcher, bleeding from her arms, wrists wrapped in soaked gauze, mascara smeared across her perfect porcelain face. She wailed like a siren. Jacob held her hand, whispering something soft, and Luther was right behind, holding her bag like a loyal mule. I stood in the corridor and they passed me. And they froze. Jacob blinked like he saw a corpse. Luther looked like he’d been sucker-punched. Pearl? That was all Jacob said. I looked at them both, then down at the IV tape still on my hand. I hadn’t even changed yet. The nurses were packing my things. I was supposed to go home. Instead, I met them. “You’re here?” Luther asked, voice hollow. “You were in the hospital?” Jacob stepped forward, reaching, but I stepped back. I laughed. Not loud. Not crazy. Just broken. “You didn’t even know,” I said quietly, “I was here for a week. Fighting to live. And none of you even noticed I was gone.” Their mouths opened but no words came out. And behind them, Lavenia screamed again, stealing all their attention. Of course she did. And once again, they turned toward her. And once again, I walked away. This time barefoot. This time bleeding inside. This time—free. Chapter 4 The apartment was still dark when I arrived. No lights. No warmth. Just stale air and the faint scent of something rotting in the sink. I didn’t bother flipping the switch. I dropped my bag by the door and kicked it shut behind me, each step echoing too loudly in the silence. I didn’t even change. The hospital gown was thin under my hoodie, but I didn’t care. I collapsed onto the couch face-first, arms dangling over the side like I was boneless. The fabric scratched against my bandages, but exhaustion won. Sleep wasn’t kind. It never is when your dreams know the truth before your mouth does. Hours passed. I woke up groggy and sore, blinking into the darkness, and then I heard it. Clattering. From the kitchen. I sat up slowly, my body heavy and cold and aching, and I padded toward the sound with bare feet. I thought maybe I was imagining things, that maybe I had left the TV on or someone was breaking in, but when I turned the corner, I saw them. Jacob was at the stove, grilling steak. Luther stood by the counter, chopping vegetables with precise, clean movements. The table was already set—plates, cutlery, glasses, even a folded napkin at each seat. They both looked up when they saw me standing there. Jacob was the first to speak. “We thought you were at your aunt’s,” he said, like that explained everything. “We didn’t want to disturb you.” Luther looked guilty, eyes flicking down to his knife and then back to me. “We didn’t know you were in the hospital,” he said, voice low. I didn’t answer. I just walked in and sat down at the table. I didn’t touch the food. Jacob frowned and turned off the stove. “You have to eat. You just got discharged.” I looked at him then. Cold. Clear. “You didn’t check on me for a week.” The silence that followed was loud enough to split bone. No one moved. No one breathed. Then the doorbell rang. Jacob and Luther both turned toward it, and Luther moved first, walking quickly to open the door. Lavenia stood there. She was pale and fragile, her wrists wrapped in clean bandages hidden beneath the sleeves of a delicate blouse, and she looked like a porcelain doll that had cracked but hadn’t shattered yet. The moment they saw her, they moved. Jacob rushed to her and picked her up like she weighed nothing, carrying her in his arms and laying her gently down on the couch. “You shouldn’t be out,” he whispered, brushing the hair from her face. “What if something happens to you?” “I was alone in the hospital room,” she said, looking up at Jacob with those wide, doe eyes. “And I kept thinking what if I never woke up again? What if I opened my eyes and no one was there? I panicked. I didn’t want to be alone tonight.” Jacob softened immediately and moved toward her, but she raised a hand weakly. “If it’s too much, I can go back,” she whispered. “Really. I didn’t mean to be a burden.” “Hey, hey, no,” Jacob murmured, voice full of worry. “You’re not a burden, okay? You should’ve called sooner. We’ll take care of you.” Luther hovered behind Jacob and said, “We’ll go back to the hospital after we check on Pearl. Then we’ll stay with you tonight.” I didn’t speak. I just picked up my fork and started eating. The steak was dry and overdone and still pink in the center, and I hated every bite. I chewed like it was cardboard, like it was ashes, and I kept eating anyway because I didn’t want them to see me stop. He made steak. My least favorite. They didn’t even remember. I forced out a laugh—small and bitter and almost invisible—and swallowed it down with a sip of water. Jacob and Luther were setting a place at the table for her now, helping her sit up and encouraging her to eat like she was made of glass. She took their attention like it was her birthright, and every so often she glanced at me with eyes that said you lost. And then my phone buzzed. I glanced at it and saw the name: Mom. She’d sent me over a dozen photos of wedding dresses—lace and silk and heavy beading, dramatic trains and cathedral veils, each more extravagant than the last. I scrolled through them with numb fingers, pausing on the third one—a satin off-the-shoulder gown with a cinched waist and cascading ruffles. I tapped the call button before I could change my mind. She picked up on the third ring, her voice warm and full of anticipation. “Pearl, did you get the dresses? I think the third one would suit you best. But if your fiancé prefers white—” “I love the third,” I said quickly, and this time I made sure my voice was light, even cheerful. “It’s perfect. I can already picture it. I’m really… excited.” She paused, maybe surprised by the change in my tone. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad. I knew you'd love it once you really looked. You always liked the more classic silhouettes.” I nodded even though she couldn’t see me and forced a small laugh. “Yeah. I think it’ll be beautiful. I’m really looking forward to the WEDDING.” There was a flicker of movement across the room. I didn’t look up. “How much longer do you need over there?” she asked. “Just a week. I’ll finish up and be home.” “Good. Everything here’s almost ready.” I hung up and set the phone down on the table, and that’s when I felt it—that silence that isn’t empty, but heavy. Like breath being held. I looked up. Jacob and Luther were staring at me. Lavenia had frozen where she sat, a fork suspended halfway to her mouth. Her expression was still soft, still wounded, but her eyes had gone sharp. Jacob was the first to move. He stepped away from Lavenia and crossed the room in seconds, voice cutting. “Wedding?” Luther followed close behind, brows furrowed, jaw tight. “What wedding?” #LoveAndLies #SecondChance #Betrayal #LoveTriangle #RevengeAndRedemption 📚Only a limited number of chapters can be displayed here. Click "Read More" to open the application and continue reading (it will automatically navigate to the corresponding book page).👇👇👇
🔥💔They betrayed me, and when I was left for dead, a stranger saved me. Now, the man who cheated thinks he still has a chance—he’s wrong. I’m marrying someone else.💣💥 Chapter 1 "Your father arranged a marriage for you years ago. Now that your health’s stabilized… will you go through with it?" I didn’t hesitate. "Yes," I said, my voice flat. "Tell Father to prepare the paperwork. And make sure the wedding isn’t tacky. I’m not here for romance. I’m here to win." My mother didn’t flinch at my tone. She agreed, offered a few suggestions, and I gave her a list of my own before hanging up. It was supposed to be Lavenia’s birthday. One weekend on Jacob’s yacht. Glitter, champagne, fake smiles. Instead, I watched her kiss my boyfriend. Jacob. Upper deck. Frosting on her cheek. His hands on her waist. His brother, Luther—who used to be like a big brother to me—handing her a towel like this wasn’t betrayal in HD. Lavenia. My best friend. My ride-or-die since age nine. She used to braid my hair and swear she’d never touch what was mine. Now she’s licking cake off Jacob’s fingers like it’s foreplay. And Jacob? The man who bled for me. Who once called me his future. He didn’t even flinch when I walked past. Didn’t blink. I didn’t cry. Didn’t scream. I just came downstairs. Sea air thick in my lungs. Heart dead quiet. Sat on the velvet lounge sofa tucked into the yacht’s lower deck suite and called my mother. Because if I want revenge, I need power. And power doesn’t come from tears. A few minutes later, I heard designer heels tapping on the staircase. Then a knock on my cabin door. “Pearl?” a sugary voice chimed. I didn’t answer. She pushed the door open anyway. Lavenia waltzed in like she owned the yacht, carrying a Black Forest cake with one candle stuck dead center. Her makeup was flawless—glossy lips, fluttery lashes—but there were a few smudges of whipped cream on her cheek. Deliberate. Always. “Pearl, will you come upstairs? Everyone’s asking about you.” Her tone was sweet, eyes wide like some Disney deer. But I’d seen her fangs too many times. “No,” I said flatly, not even turning around. “I have work.” A flicker of something crossed her face. Disappointment? No. Calculation. “You don’t like me,” she said softly. “That’s why you’re always avoiding me.” I raised an eyebrow. “Are we doing this again?” She blinked rapidly, like she was about to cry on cue. And maybe she was. I’d seen her pull this routine on Jacob a thousand times. “I’m not in the mood, Lavenia. Save the performance for your fan club.” I moved toward the door. She stepped back—then suddenly stumbled, gasping as the cake flew from her hands and smashed across her chest, rich chocolate and whipped cream splattering like a crime scene. Right on cue, Jacob and Luther appeared at the top of the staircase like trained guard dogs. They rushed toward her, shoving past me like I didn’t exist. “Lavi! Oh my god—what happened?” Jacob’s voice was tight, eyes locked on her frosting-smeared dress. “She shoved me,” Lavenia whimpered, clutching the ruined cake like it was a mortal wound. “I was just trying to bring her something sweet. For old times. She—she pushed it into me.” I stared at her, stunned. “What?” “She what?” Luther’s eyes blazed. “Pearl, what the hell is wrong with you?” “I didn’t touch her,” I snapped. “She dropped it herself. You all saw nothing but you're ready to believe this?” Jacob didn’t even glance my way. He was too busy dabbing frosting off Lavenia’s shoulder like it was acid. “Lavi, does it hurt?” he murmured. She sniffled and leaned into his chest. “Just a little. It’s okay… I shouldn’t have bothered her. She hates me now.” “You were her best friend,” Luther said, glaring at me. “You were like sisters. She always called you her only real friend. And this is how you treat her? Because you're jealous?” Jealous. I laughed—quiet, bitter. “You two belong in a soap opera. All that’s missing is a coma and a fake baby.” Jacob turned, jaw clenched. “You’re going to apologize." I blinked. “Excuse me?” “You heard me,” he said, voice low and furious. “Apologize to Lavenia. Now.” I stared him down, arms crossed. “No.” His eyes narrowed. “Then forget about the wedding we planned. You don’t apologize by tomorrow, I’m not proposing to you next month. Consider it off the table.” Silence snapped tight between us. Luther scoffed behind him. “You still wanna marry her, bro? Her true colors are showing now. What a waste. If I were you, I’d never marry a woman like her.” I tilted my head slowly, eyes locked on him. “That’s why no one ever would,” I said, voice like satin over steel. Luther flushed. Jacob's jaw ticked. Lavenia looked positively radiant, loving every second of the chaos she brewed. Then I turned toward the side railing to head back inside—but Jacob’s hand gripped my wrist. I barely had time to blink before he shoved me. Over the rail. Into the sea. Splash. The cold hit me like knives. My lungs clenched. The darkness swallowed me whole. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream. Help. My hands flailed above the surface, mouth gasping, choking on salt and panic. The water dragged at me like an anchor. I didn’t know how to swim. They knew that. “Pearl?!” Lavenia’s voice rang out behind me, loud and dramatic. “Somebody help—Pearl doesn’t know how to swim!” But it wasn’t panic. It was a performance. “Let her be,” Jacob said coolly, standing above like a god with no mercy. “That’s for bullying you. She's pain in the ass and maybe she’ll learn something after this.” I couldn’t even gasp anymore. I sank. That’s when I felt arms break through the water—strong, foreign, unfamiliar. A hand wrapped around my waist. The pull of the surface returned. A stranger’s voice, low and steady. “I’ve got you.” I coughed violently as my head broke above water. Chapter 2 The yacht docked at port just after dawn. No one said a word to me. Not Jacob. Not Luther. Not even Lavenia, who had cried so hard last night I almost believed her. Almost. I stepped off the deck in silence, soaked to the marrow with salt and humiliation, my skin still chilled from nearly drowning—and not just in water. Jacob had pushed me. Straight into the dark waves. And he hadn’t even flinched. “That's what you get,” he’d said afterward. “For being jealous. For acting like the world owes you something.” Not a sorry. Not a hand offered. Not even a glance of regret. And when that stranger dove in, dragging me back to the dock—he vanished like mist. No name. No thanks. Just a blur in the crowd. A ghost in human form. I stumbled back to the apartment alone. Shaking. Done. The second I stepped inside, I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I packed. Drawers opened. Suitcases filled. Clothes. Passports. Hard drives. The necklace my grandmother gave me. Anything worth keeping—anything untouched by them—was coming with me. I was folding my last coat when my phone buzzed. A message from Lavenia. Not even pretending to be subtle this time. “Hey Pearl~ Check out my Insta! New pics!” The nerve. I tapped the screen, already knowing what I’d see. There she was again—crowned and smug. Draped in one of my silk robes, the pink one from Milan I’d left on the yacht. Jacob beside her, shirtless, half-asleep, his arm around her and his nose nearly grazing her almost exposed breast. Luther on her other side, holding her like she was some kind of queen. A queen of snakes. Caption: “Best night ever with my fav boys. Thanks for making my birthday unforgettable. I loved every whip and bit of cream you gave me. ” “And guess what, Pearl? Jacob gave me your brand-new car. Said it was his money anyway, and the color suits me better. But don’t worry—I’ll let you borrow it… if you say please.” Then she posted my car on her insta. I just laughed. I tapped the little heart under her post, let it turn red, and tossed my phone on the bed. Tomorrow, I’d be gone. And when I left, I wasn’t taking ghosts with me. *** I submitted my resignation at the firm that afternoon, handed it in with a smile and shook a few hands like I wasn’t dismantling my entire life. When I got back to the apartment, it was time for the final cut. I dragged out a worn leather box from under the bed—heavy with memories and promises. Inside were the tokens of my past with them, each one a shard of what we used to be. Jacob’s silver necklace, delicate and engraved with a secret phrase only we ever knew. Luther’s old cigarette lighter, battered and cold, but still weighted with memories of smoky nights and whispered secrets. The cracked glass of Jacob’s luxury watch, frozen in time, ticking no more. I pulled out the crumpled love letters Jacob had written me when I was sixteen—folded poems hidden away, words I’d believed once were forever. Alongside them, notes from Luther—carefully folded, tucked beneath my door during sleepless nights at college. There was the leather jacket Jacob promised would be mine forever, its worn sleeves smelling faintly of his cologne. Luther’s dented motorcycle helmet, the one we’d joked about racing across the countryside with. And the tiny music box that played our song—the one we all loved—now silent and gathering dust. Click. Flame. I set the edge of the leather jacket alight first. It curled, blackening quickly. I tossed in the letters, the necklace, the lighter, the watch. Each item caught fire, the flames licking hungrily at the remnants of us. By the time Jacob burst into the room, half my past was already ash. “Pearl—what the fuck are you doing?!” His voice cracked, eyes wild. I didn’t flinch. “Getting rid of mold.” “Bullshit!” He stepped closer, desperation in his voice. “These aren’t just things. They’re our memories.” Luther followed, eyes darting to the burning pile. He lunged to grab the map but yelped when the flames bit at his fingers. “You’re insane. You just destroyed everything we had.” I met his gaze, cold and steady. “You gave my car to Lavenia. She gets the gifts, she can keep the memories too.” “You’re really doing this? Are you still not done throwing tantrums? You ruined her birthday last night with your immaturity.” I smiled, bitter and calm. “Yeah. I’m done. This is the last time… you’ll ever see me.” They watched the smoke curl up to the ceiling, the ashes settling like the end of us. Funny how they almost burned the city down for Lavenia’s fake tears—but when I was breaking apart, not one of them asked why. Now, they cried over what was left in flames. Chapter 3 Jacob and Luther didn’t give up that easily. After seeing the photos burn, they tried to patch things up—two lost boys grasping at a thread. “Come on, Pearl,” Jacob said, rubbing the back of his neck like he was about to confess to a crime. “Let’s go out to dinner. Our treat.” Luther nodded, voice softer than usual. “Yeah. Our favorite restaurant. Let's go there. Please. Just one dinner. Let us make it right.” I said nothing but nodded. Inside, I already knew it would be our last night together. We rode in Jacob’s sleek black car, the silence thick and awkward like static between us. Then Luther’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and grimaced. “It’s Lavenia.” I heard the panic in his voice as he answered. “Lavenia? What’s wrong?” Her high-pitched voice shattered the quiet. “The power’s out... someone broke into the house. I’m so scared—there’s a thief. Please, come quick!” Jacob’s jaw tightened. He glanced at me and then back to Luther. “Pearl, get out.” “What?” I blinked, stunned. “We’ll be back after we check on Lavenia,” Jacob said sharply. “You can’t come with us.” Before I could argue, they opened the door and shoved me out onto the dark, wet street. Rain immediately soaked my hair and clothes. They didn’t even wait for me to reach shelter before speeding off, red taillights bleeding into the storm. I just stood there a moment, soaked to the bone, mascara bleeding like betrayal. Then I smiled. Bitter and clean. Because now I knew—this wasn’t the last dinner. This was the funeral feast. And they didn’t even realize they’d been attending their own eulogy. *** I kicked off my heels three blocks in. They were satin, too slippery in the rain, and my toes were already blistered. I held them by the straps as I walked barefoot down the soaked pavement, dress clinging to my skin, hair stuck to my neck, every breath colder than the last. No taxi stopped. Not one. They saw me, I know they did. Drivers slowed, took one look at the drenched girl limping through the dark, and sped up like I was a ghost they didn’t want to deal with. I didn’t cry. Not then. I turned into an alley I thought was a shortcut, thinking maybe if I just cut through to the main road I’d catch a cab or a bus or even collapse near a streetlamp like some poetic wreck. But the shortcut had teeth. He stepped out from behind a dumpster, face shadowed and hoodie soaked through. I saw the glint of the knife too late, felt the rough shove of his hand before I even registered what he said. Something about a wallet, maybe my bag, maybe my phone. I didn’t care. I fought back anyway. I punched and clawed and screamed until my throat broke open, and that’s when he stabbed me. Once in the gut, then again lower, and a third time when I tried to crawl away. The pain was sharp and hot and then cold, so cold it stole my breath. I remember falling. I remember the way the pavement kissed my cheek like a farewell. And then I remember headlights. A door slamming. Someone shouting my name. Arms lifting me. I tried to speak, tried to tell them to call my aunt, tell her I’m sorry, tell her I won’t be able to bring those cookies after all. But my lips didn’t move. My vision blurred into static. Then I saw him. That face. Him. The same stranger who had jumped into the ocean during Lavenia’s birthday party. The same man who pulled me out of the freezing water when Jacob pushed me from the yacht deck “by accident.” I thought I hallucinated him that night. I thought maybe the sea gave me an angel. But he was real. He looked down at me as I bled through his white dress shirt, cradled in his arms, soaked from rain and blood and regret. “Stay with me, Pearl,” he said, voice deep and calm and commanding. “You’re not dying tonight. Not like this.” “Who… are you?” I think I whispered. He gave the ghost of a smile. “Sebastian.” Then he vanished again. Not in smoke or light, but in the clean, cruel way people like him do—when a secretary called his name and he slipped from the hospital room without asking for thanks. I stayed there for a week. Tubes in my arms, stitches in my stomach, silence in my soul. No visitors. No calls. Not even my mom—I told the nurses not to tell her. What was the point? I needed to lie still and feel it. The death of whatever part of me still hoped someone would come. And then on the day I was discharged, still pale and in a hospital gown, they appeared. Lavenia was on a stretcher, bleeding from her arms, wrists wrapped in soaked gauze, mascara smeared across her perfect porcelain face. She wailed like a siren. Jacob held her hand, whispering something soft, and Luther was right behind, holding her bag like a loyal mule. I stood in the corridor and they passed me. And they froze. Jacob blinked like he saw a corpse. Luther looked like he’d been sucker-punched. Pearl? That was all Jacob said. I looked at them both, then down at the IV tape still on my hand. I hadn’t even changed yet. The nurses were packing my things. I was supposed to go home. Instead, I met them. “You’re here?” Luther asked, voice hollow. “You were in the hospital?” Jacob stepped forward, reaching, but I stepped back. I laughed. Not loud. Not crazy. Just broken. “You didn’t even know,” I said quietly, “I was here for a week. Fighting to live. And none of you even noticed I was gone.” Their mouths opened but no words came out. And behind them, Lavenia screamed again, stealing all their attention. Of course she did. And once again, they turned toward her. And once again, I walked away. This time barefoot. This time bleeding inside. This time—free. Chapter 4 The apartment was still dark when I arrived. No lights. No warmth. Just stale air and the faint scent of something rotting in the sink. I didn’t bother flipping the switch. I dropped my bag by the door and kicked it shut behind me, each step echoing too loudly in the silence. I didn’t even change. The hospital gown was thin under my hoodie, but I didn’t care. I collapsed onto the couch face-first, arms dangling over the side like I was boneless. The fabric scratched against my bandages, but exhaustion won. Sleep wasn’t kind. It never is when your dreams know the truth before your mouth does. Hours passed. I woke up groggy and sore, blinking into the darkness, and then I heard it. Clattering. From the kitchen. I sat up slowly, my body heavy and cold and aching, and I padded toward the sound with bare feet. I thought maybe I was imagining things, that maybe I had left the TV on or someone was breaking in, but when I turned the corner, I saw them. Jacob was at the stove, grilling steak. Luther stood by the counter, chopping vegetables with precise, clean movements. The table was already set—plates, cutlery, glasses, even a folded napkin at each seat. They both looked up when they saw me standing there. Jacob was the first to speak. “We thought you were at your aunt’s,” he said, like that explained everything. “We didn’t want to disturb you.” Luther looked guilty, eyes flicking down to his knife and then back to me. “We didn’t know you were in the hospital,” he said, voice low. I didn’t answer. I just walked in and sat down at the table. I didn’t touch the food. Jacob frowned and turned off the stove. “You have to eat. You just got discharged.” I looked at him then. Cold. Clear. “You didn’t check on me for a week.” The silence that followed was loud enough to split bone. No one moved. No one breathed. Then the doorbell rang. Jacob and Luther both turned toward it, and Luther moved first, walking quickly to open the door. Lavenia stood there. She was pale and fragile, her wrists wrapped in clean bandages hidden beneath the sleeves of a delicate blouse, and she looked like a porcelain doll that had cracked but hadn’t shattered yet. The moment they saw her, they moved. Jacob rushed to her and picked her up like she weighed nothing, carrying her in his arms and laying her gently down on the couch. “You shouldn’t be out,” he whispered, brushing the hair from her face. “What if something happens to you?” “I was alone in the hospital room,” she said, looking up at Jacob with those wide, doe eyes. “And I kept thinking what if I never woke up again? What if I opened my eyes and no one was there? I panicked. I didn’t want to be alone tonight.” Jacob softened immediately and moved toward her, but she raised a hand weakly. “If it’s too much, I can go back,” she whispered. “Really. I didn’t mean to be a burden.” “Hey, hey, no,” Jacob murmured, voice full of worry. “You’re not a burden, okay? You should’ve called sooner. We’ll take care of you.” Luther hovered behind Jacob and said, “We’ll go back to the hospital after we check on Pearl. Then we’ll stay with you tonight.” I didn’t speak. I just picked up my fork and started eating. The steak was dry and overdone and still pink in the center, and I hated every bite. I chewed like it was cardboard, like it was ashes, and I kept eating anyway because I didn’t want them to see me stop. He made steak. My least favorite. They didn’t even remember. I forced out a laugh—small and bitter and almost invisible—and swallowed it down with a sip of water. Jacob and Luther were setting a place at the table for her now, helping her sit up and encouraging her to eat like she was made of glass. She took their attention like it was her birthright, and every so often she glanced at me with eyes that said you lost. And then my phone buzzed. I glanced at it and saw the name: Mom. She’d sent me over a dozen photos of wedding dresses—lace and silk and heavy beading, dramatic trains and cathedral veils, each more extravagant than the last. I scrolled through them with numb fingers, pausing on the third one—a satin off-the-shoulder gown with a cinched waist and cascading ruffles. I tapped the call button before I could change my mind. She picked up on the third ring, her voice warm and full of anticipation. “Pearl, did you get the dresses? I think the third one would suit you best. But if your fiancé prefers white—” “I love the third,” I said quickly, and this time I made sure my voice was light, even cheerful. “It’s perfect. I can already picture it. I’m really… excited.” She paused, maybe surprised by the change in my tone. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad. I knew you'd love it once you really looked. You always liked the more classic silhouettes.” I nodded even though she couldn’t see me and forced a small laugh. “Yeah. I think it’ll be beautiful. I’m really looking forward to the WEDDING.” There was a flicker of movement across the room. I didn’t look up. “How much longer do you need over there?” she asked. “Just a week. I’ll finish up and be home.” “Good. Everything here’s almost ready.” I hung up and set the phone down on the table, and that’s when I felt it—that silence that isn’t empty, but heavy. Like breath being held. I looked up. Jacob and Luther were staring at me. Lavenia had frozen where she sat, a fork suspended halfway to her mouth. Her expression was still soft, still wounded, but her eyes had gone sharp. Jacob was the first to move. He stepped away from Lavenia and crossed the room in seconds, voice cutting. “Wedding?” Luther followed close behind, brows furrowed, jaw tight. “What wedding?” #LoveAndLies #SecondChance #Betrayal #LoveTriangle #RevengeAndRedemption 📚Only a limited number of chapters can be displayed here. Click "Read More" to open the application and continue reading (it will automatically navigate to the corresponding book page).👇👇👇
🔥💔They betrayed me, and when I was left for dead, a stranger saved me. Now, the man who cheated thinks he still has a chance—he’s wrong. I’m marrying someone else.💣💥 Chapter 1 "Your father arranged a marriage for you years ago. Now that your health’s stabilized… will you go through with it?" I didn’t hesitate. "Yes," I said, my voice flat. "Tell Father to prepare the paperwork. And make sure the wedding isn’t tacky. I’m not here for romance. I’m here to win." My mother didn’t flinch at my tone. She agreed, offered a few suggestions, and I gave her a list of my own before hanging up. It was supposed to be Lavenia’s birthday. One weekend on Jacob’s yacht. Glitter, champagne, fake smiles. Instead, I watched her kiss my boyfriend. Jacob. Upper deck. Frosting on her cheek. His hands on her waist. His brother, Luther—who used to be like a big brother to me—handing her a towel like this wasn’t betrayal in HD. Lavenia. My best friend. My ride-or-die since age nine. She used to braid my hair and swear she’d never touch what was mine. Now she’s licking cake off Jacob’s fingers like it’s foreplay. And Jacob? The man who bled for me. Who once called me his future. He didn’t even flinch when I walked past. Didn’t blink. I didn’t cry. Didn’t scream. I just came downstairs. Sea air thick in my lungs. Heart dead quiet. Sat on the velvet lounge sofa tucked into the yacht’s lower deck suite and called my mother. Because if I want revenge, I need power. And power doesn’t come from tears. A few minutes later, I heard designer heels tapping on the staircase. Then a knock on my cabin door. “Pearl?” a sugary voice chimed. I didn’t answer. She pushed the door open anyway. Lavenia waltzed in like she owned the yacht, carrying a Black Forest cake with one candle stuck dead center. Her makeup was flawless—glossy lips, fluttery lashes—but there were a few smudges of whipped cream on her cheek. Deliberate. Always. “Pearl, will you come upstairs? Everyone’s asking about you.” Her tone was sweet, eyes wide like some Disney deer. But I’d seen her fangs too many times. “No,” I said flatly, not even turning around. “I have work.” A flicker of something crossed her face. Disappointment? No. Calculation. “You don’t like me,” she said softly. “That’s why you’re always avoiding me.” I raised an eyebrow. “Are we doing this again?” She blinked rapidly, like she was about to cry on cue. And maybe she was. I’d seen her pull this routine on Jacob a thousand times. “I’m not in the mood, Lavenia. Save the performance for your fan club.” I moved toward the door. She stepped back—then suddenly stumbled, gasping as the cake flew from her hands and smashed across her chest, rich chocolate and whipped cream splattering like a crime scene. Right on cue, Jacob and Luther appeared at the top of the staircase like trained guard dogs. They rushed toward her, shoving past me like I didn’t exist. “Lavi! Oh my god—what happened?” Jacob’s voice was tight, eyes locked on her frosting-smeared dress. “She shoved me,” Lavenia whimpered, clutching the ruined cake like it was a mortal wound. “I was just trying to bring her something sweet. For old times. She—she pushed it into me.” I stared at her, stunned. “What?” “She what?” Luther’s eyes blazed. “Pearl, what the hell is wrong with you?” “I didn’t touch her,” I snapped. “She dropped it herself. You all saw nothing but you're ready to believe this?” Jacob didn’t even glance my way. He was too busy dabbing frosting off Lavenia’s shoulder like it was acid. “Lavi, does it hurt?” he murmured. She sniffled and leaned into his chest. “Just a little. It’s okay… I shouldn’t have bothered her. She hates me now.” “You were her best friend,” Luther said, glaring at me. “You were like sisters. She always called you her only real friend. And this is how you treat her? Because you're jealous?” Jealous. I laughed—quiet, bitter. “You two belong in a soap opera. All that’s missing is a coma and a fake baby.” Jacob turned, jaw clenched. “You’re going to apologize." I blinked. “Excuse me?” “You heard me,” he said, voice low and furious. “Apologize to Lavenia. Now.” I stared him down, arms crossed. “No.” His eyes narrowed. “Then forget about the wedding we planned. You don’t apologize by tomorrow, I’m not proposing to you next month. Consider it off the table.” Silence snapped tight between us. Luther scoffed behind him. “You still wanna marry her, bro? Her true colors are showing now. What a waste. If I were you, I’d never marry a woman like her.” I tilted my head slowly, eyes locked on him. “That’s why no one ever would,” I said, voice like satin over steel. Luther flushed. Jacob's jaw ticked. Lavenia looked positively radiant, loving every second of the chaos she brewed. Then I turned toward the side railing to head back inside—but Jacob’s hand gripped my wrist. I barely had time to blink before he shoved me. Over the rail. Into the sea. Splash. The cold hit me like knives. My lungs clenched. The darkness swallowed me whole. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream. Help. My hands flailed above the surface, mouth gasping, choking on salt and panic. The water dragged at me like an anchor. I didn’t know how to swim. They knew that. “Pearl?!” Lavenia’s voice rang out behind me, loud and dramatic. “Somebody help—Pearl doesn’t know how to swim!” But it wasn’t panic. It was a performance. “Let her be,” Jacob said coolly, standing above like a god with no mercy. “That’s for bullying you. She's pain in the ass and maybe she’ll learn something after this.” I couldn’t even gasp anymore. I sank. That’s when I felt arms break through the water—strong, foreign, unfamiliar. A hand wrapped around my waist. The pull of the surface returned. A stranger’s voice, low and steady. “I’ve got you.” I coughed violently as my head broke above water. Chapter 2 The yacht docked at port just after dawn. No one said a word to me. Not Jacob. Not Luther. Not even Lavenia, who had cried so hard last night I almost believed her. Almost. I stepped off the deck in silence, soaked to the marrow with salt and humiliation, my skin still chilled from nearly drowning—and not just in water. Jacob had pushed me. Straight into the dark waves. And he hadn’t even flinched. “That's what you get,” he’d said afterward. “For being jealous. For acting like the world owes you something.” Not a sorry. Not a hand offered. Not even a glance of regret. And when that stranger dove in, dragging me back to the dock—he vanished like mist. No name. No thanks. Just a blur in the crowd. A ghost in human form. I stumbled back to the apartment alone. Shaking. Done. The second I stepped inside, I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I packed. Drawers opened. Suitcases filled. Clothes. Passports. Hard drives. The necklace my grandmother gave me. Anything worth keeping—anything untouched by them—was coming with me. I was folding my last coat when my phone buzzed. A message from Lavenia. Not even pretending to be subtle this time. “Hey Pearl~ Check out my Insta! New pics!” The nerve. I tapped the screen, already knowing what I’d see. There she was again—crowned and smug. Draped in one of my silk robes, the pink one from Milan I’d left on the yacht. Jacob beside her, shirtless, half-asleep, his arm around her and his nose nearly grazing her almost exposed breast. Luther on her other side, holding her like she was some kind of queen. A queen of snakes. Caption: “Best night ever with my fav boys. Thanks for making my birthday unforgettable. I loved every whip and bit of cream you gave me. ” “And guess what, Pearl? Jacob gave me your brand-new car. Said it was his money anyway, and the color suits me better. But don’t worry—I’ll let you borrow it… if you say please.” Then she posted my car on her insta. I just laughed. I tapped the little heart under her post, let it turn red, and tossed my phone on the bed. Tomorrow, I’d be gone. And when I left, I wasn’t taking ghosts with me. *** I submitted my resignation at the firm that afternoon, handed it in with a smile and shook a few hands like I wasn’t dismantling my entire life. When I got back to the apartment, it was time for the final cut. I dragged out a worn leather box from under the bed—heavy with memories and promises. Inside were the tokens of my past with them, each one a shard of what we used to be. Jacob’s silver necklace, delicate and engraved with a secret phrase only we ever knew. Luther’s old cigarette lighter, battered and cold, but still weighted with memories of smoky nights and whispered secrets. The cracked glass of Jacob’s luxury watch, frozen in time, ticking no more. I pulled out the crumpled love letters Jacob had written me when I was sixteen—folded poems hidden away, words I’d believed once were forever. Alongside them, notes from Luther—carefully folded, tucked beneath my door during sleepless nights at college. There was the leather jacket Jacob promised would be mine forever, its worn sleeves smelling faintly of his cologne. Luther’s dented motorcycle helmet, the one we’d joked about racing across the countryside with. And the tiny music box that played our song—the one we all loved—now silent and gathering dust. Click. Flame. I set the edge of the leather jacket alight first. It curled, blackening quickly. I tossed in the letters, the necklace, the lighter, the watch. Each item caught fire, the flames licking hungrily at the remnants of us. By the time Jacob burst into the room, half my past was already ash. “Pearl—what the fuck are you doing?!” His voice cracked, eyes wild. I didn’t flinch. “Getting rid of mold.” “Bullshit!” He stepped closer, desperation in his voice. “These aren’t just things. They’re our memories.” Luther followed, eyes darting to the burning pile. He lunged to grab the map but yelped when the flames bit at his fingers. “You’re insane. You just destroyed everything we had.” I met his gaze, cold and steady. “You gave my car to Lavenia. She gets the gifts, she can keep the memories too.” “You’re really doing this? Are you still not done throwing tantrums? You ruined her birthday last night with your immaturity.” I smiled, bitter and calm. “Yeah. I’m done. This is the last time… you’ll ever see me.” They watched the smoke curl up to the ceiling, the ashes settling like the end of us. Funny how they almost burned the city down for Lavenia’s fake tears—but when I was breaking apart, not one of them asked why. Now, they cried over what was left in flames. Chapter 3 Jacob and Luther didn’t give up that easily. After seeing the photos burn, they tried to patch things up—two lost boys grasping at a thread. “Come on, Pearl,” Jacob said, rubbing the back of his neck like he was about to confess to a crime. “Let’s go out to dinner. Our treat.” Luther nodded, voice softer than usual. “Yeah. Our favorite restaurant. Let's go there. Please. Just one dinner. Let us make it right.” I said nothing but nodded. Inside, I already knew it would be our last night together. We rode in Jacob’s sleek black car, the silence thick and awkward like static between us. Then Luther’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and grimaced. “It’s Lavenia.” I heard the panic in his voice as he answered. “Lavenia? What’s wrong?” Her high-pitched voice shattered the quiet. “The power’s out... someone broke into the house. I’m so scared—there’s a thief. Please, come quick!” Jacob’s jaw tightened. He glanced at me and then back to Luther. “Pearl, get out.” “What?” I blinked, stunned. “We’ll be back after we check on Lavenia,” Jacob said sharply. “You can’t come with us.” Before I could argue, they opened the door and shoved me out onto the dark, wet street. Rain immediately soaked my hair and clothes. They didn’t even wait for me to reach shelter before speeding off, red taillights bleeding into the storm. I just stood there a moment, soaked to the bone, mascara bleeding like betrayal. Then I smiled. Bitter and clean. Because now I knew—this wasn’t the last dinner. This was the funeral feast. And they didn’t even realize they’d been attending their own eulogy. *** I kicked off my heels three blocks in. They were satin, too slippery in the rain, and my toes were already blistered. I held them by the straps as I walked barefoot down the soaked pavement, dress clinging to my skin, hair stuck to my neck, every breath colder than the last. No taxi stopped. Not one. They saw me, I know they did. Drivers slowed, took one look at the drenched girl limping through the dark, and sped up like I was a ghost they didn’t want to deal with. I didn’t cry. Not then. I turned into an alley I thought was a shortcut, thinking maybe if I just cut through to the main road I’d catch a cab or a bus or even collapse near a streetlamp like some poetic wreck. But the shortcut had teeth. He stepped out from behind a dumpster, face shadowed and hoodie soaked through. I saw the glint of the knife too late, felt the rough shove of his hand before I even registered what he said. Something about a wallet, maybe my bag, maybe my phone. I didn’t care. I fought back anyway. I punched and clawed and screamed until my throat broke open, and that’s when he stabbed me. Once in the gut, then again lower, and a third time when I tried to crawl away. The pain was sharp and hot and then cold, so cold it stole my breath. I remember falling. I remember the way the pavement kissed my cheek like a farewell. And then I remember headlights. A door slamming. Someone shouting my name. Arms lifting me. I tried to speak, tried to tell them to call my aunt, tell her I’m sorry, tell her I won’t be able to bring those cookies after all. But my lips didn’t move. My vision blurred into static. Then I saw him. That face. Him. The same stranger who had jumped into the ocean during Lavenia’s birthday party. The same man who pulled me out of the freezing water when Jacob pushed me from the yacht deck “by accident.” I thought I hallucinated him that night. I thought maybe the sea gave me an angel. But he was real. He looked down at me as I bled through his white dress shirt, cradled in his arms, soaked from rain and blood and regret. “Stay with me, Pearl,” he said, voice deep and calm and commanding. “You’re not dying tonight. Not like this.” “Who… are you?” I think I whispered. He gave the ghost of a smile. “Sebastian.” Then he vanished again. Not in smoke or light, but in the clean, cruel way people like him do—when a secretary called his name and he slipped from the hospital room without asking for thanks. I stayed there for a week. Tubes in my arms, stitches in my stomach, silence in my soul. No visitors. No calls. Not even my mom—I told the nurses not to tell her. What was the point? I needed to lie still and feel it. The death of whatever part of me still hoped someone would come. And then on the day I was discharged, still pale and in a hospital gown, they appeared. Lavenia was on a stretcher, bleeding from her arms, wrists wrapped in soaked gauze, mascara smeared across her perfect porcelain face. She wailed like a siren. Jacob held her hand, whispering something soft, and Luther was right behind, holding her bag like a loyal mule. I stood in the corridor and they passed me. And they froze. Jacob blinked like he saw a corpse. Luther looked like he’d been sucker-punched. Pearl? That was all Jacob said. I looked at them both, then down at the IV tape still on my hand. I hadn’t even changed yet. The nurses were packing my things. I was supposed to go home. Instead, I met them. “You’re here?” Luther asked, voice hollow. “You were in the hospital?” Jacob stepped forward, reaching, but I stepped back. I laughed. Not loud. Not crazy. Just broken. “You didn’t even know,” I said quietly, “I was here for a week. Fighting to live. And none of you even noticed I was gone.” Their mouths opened but no words came out. And behind them, Lavenia screamed again, stealing all their attention. Of course she did. And once again, they turned toward her. And once again, I walked away. This time barefoot. This time bleeding inside. This time—free. Chapter 4 The apartment was still dark when I arrived. No lights. No warmth. Just stale air and the faint scent of something rotting in the sink. I didn’t bother flipping the switch. I dropped my bag by the door and kicked it shut behind me, each step echoing too loudly in the silence. I didn’t even change. The hospital gown was thin under my hoodie, but I didn’t care. I collapsed onto the couch face-first, arms dangling over the side like I was boneless. The fabric scratched against my bandages, but exhaustion won. Sleep wasn’t kind. It never is when your dreams know the truth before your mouth does. Hours passed. I woke up groggy and sore, blinking into the darkness, and then I heard it. Clattering. From the kitchen. I sat up slowly, my body heavy and cold and aching, and I padded toward the sound with bare feet. I thought maybe I was imagining things, that maybe I had left the TV on or someone was breaking in, but when I turned the corner, I saw them. Jacob was at the stove, grilling steak. Luther stood by the counter, chopping vegetables with precise, clean movements. The table was already set—plates, cutlery, glasses, even a folded napkin at each seat. They both looked up when they saw me standing there. Jacob was the first to speak. “We thought you were at your aunt’s,” he said, like that explained everything. “We didn’t want to disturb you.” Luther looked guilty, eyes flicking down to his knife and then back to me. “We didn’t know you were in the hospital,” he said, voice low. I didn’t answer. I just walked in and sat down at the table. I didn’t touch the food. Jacob frowned and turned off the stove. “You have to eat. You just got discharged.” I looked at him then. Cold. Clear. “You didn’t check on me for a week.” The silence that followed was loud enough to split bone. No one moved. No one breathed. Then the doorbell rang. Jacob and Luther both turned toward it, and Luther moved first, walking quickly to open the door. Lavenia stood there. She was pale and fragile, her wrists wrapped in clean bandages hidden beneath the sleeves of a delicate blouse, and she looked like a porcelain doll that had cracked but hadn’t shattered yet. The moment they saw her, they moved. Jacob rushed to her and picked her up like she weighed nothing, carrying her in his arms and laying her gently down on the couch. “You shouldn’t be out,” he whispered, brushing the hair from her face. “What if something happens to you?” “I was alone in the hospital room,” she said, looking up at Jacob with those wide, doe eyes. “And I kept thinking what if I never woke up again? What if I opened my eyes and no one was there? I panicked. I didn’t want to be alone tonight.” Jacob softened immediately and moved toward her, but she raised a hand weakly. “If it’s too much, I can go back,” she whispered. “Really. I didn’t mean to be a burden.” “Hey, hey, no,” Jacob murmured, voice full of worry. “You’re not a burden, okay? You should’ve called sooner. We’ll take care of you.” Luther hovered behind Jacob and said, “We’ll go back to the hospital after we check on Pearl. Then we’ll stay with you tonight.” I didn’t speak. I just picked up my fork and started eating. The steak was dry and overdone and still pink in the center, and I hated every bite. I chewed like it was cardboard, like it was ashes, and I kept eating anyway because I didn’t want them to see me stop. He made steak. My least favorite. They didn’t even remember. I forced out a laugh—small and bitter and almost invisible—and swallowed it down with a sip of water. Jacob and Luther were setting a place at the table for her now, helping her sit up and encouraging her to eat like she was made of glass. She took their attention like it was her birthright, and every so often she glanced at me with eyes that said you lost. And then my phone buzzed. I glanced at it and saw the name: Mom. She’d sent me over a dozen photos of wedding dresses—lace and silk and heavy beading, dramatic trains and cathedral veils, each more extravagant than the last. I scrolled through them with numb fingers, pausing on the third one—a satin off-the-shoulder gown with a cinched waist and cascading ruffles. I tapped the call button before I could change my mind. She picked up on the third ring, her voice warm and full of anticipation. “Pearl, did you get the dresses? I think the third one would suit you best. But if your fiancé prefers white—” “I love the third,” I said quickly, and this time I made sure my voice was light, even cheerful. “It’s perfect. I can already picture it. I’m really… excited.” She paused, maybe surprised by the change in my tone. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad. I knew you'd love it once you really looked. You always liked the more classic silhouettes.” I nodded even though she couldn’t see me and forced a small laugh. “Yeah. I think it’ll be beautiful. I’m really looking forward to the WEDDING.” There was a flicker of movement across the room. I didn’t look up. “How much longer do you need over there?” she asked. “Just a week. I’ll finish up and be home.” “Good. Everything here’s almost ready.” I hung up and set the phone down on the table, and that’s when I felt it—that silence that isn’t empty, but heavy. Like breath being held. I looked up. Jacob and Luther were staring at me. Lavenia had frozen where she sat, a fork suspended halfway to her mouth. Her expression was still soft, still wounded, but her eyes had gone sharp. Jacob was the first to move. He stepped away from Lavenia and crossed the room in seconds, voice cutting. “Wedding?” Luther followed close behind, brows furrowed, jaw tight. “What wedding?” #LoveAndLies #SecondChance #Betrayal #LoveTriangle #RevengeAndRedemption 📚Only a limited number of chapters can be displayed here. Click "Read More" to open the application and continue reading (it will automatically navigate to the corresponding book page).👇👇👇
🔥💔They betrayed me, and when I was left for dead, a stranger saved me. Now, the man who cheated thinks he still has a chance—he’s wrong. I’m marrying someone else.💣💥 Chapter 1 "Your father arranged a marriage for you years ago. Now that your health’s stabilized… will you go through with it?" I didn’t hesitate. "Yes," I said, my voice flat. "Tell Father to prepare the paperwork. And make sure the wedding isn’t tacky. I’m not here for romance. I’m here to win." My mother didn’t flinch at my tone. She agreed, offered a few suggestions, and I gave her a list of my own before hanging up. It was supposed to be Lavenia’s birthday. One weekend on Jacob’s yacht. Glitter, champagne, fake smiles. Instead, I watched her kiss my boyfriend. Jacob. Upper deck. Frosting on her cheek. His hands on her waist. His brother, Luther—who used to be like a big brother to me—handing her a towel like this wasn’t betrayal in HD. Lavenia. My best friend. My ride-or-die since age nine. She used to braid my hair and swear she’d never touch what was mine. Now she’s licking cake off Jacob’s fingers like it’s foreplay. And Jacob? The man who bled for me. Who once called me his future. He didn’t even flinch when I walked past. Didn’t blink. I didn’t cry. Didn’t scream. I just came downstairs. Sea air thick in my lungs. Heart dead quiet. Sat on the velvet lounge sofa tucked into the yacht’s lower deck suite and called my mother. Because if I want revenge, I need power. And power doesn’t come from tears. A few minutes later, I heard designer heels tapping on the staircase. Then a knock on my cabin door. “Pearl?” a sugary voice chimed. I didn’t answer. She pushed the door open anyway. Lavenia waltzed in like she owned the yacht, carrying a Black Forest cake with one candle stuck dead center. Her makeup was flawless—glossy lips, fluttery lashes—but there were a few smudges of whipped cream on her cheek. Deliberate. Always. “Pearl, will you come upstairs? Everyone’s asking about you.” Her tone was sweet, eyes wide like some Disney deer. But I’d seen her fangs too many times. “No,” I said flatly, not even turning around. “I have work.” A flicker of something crossed her face. Disappointment? No. Calculation. “You don’t like me,” she said softly. “That’s why you’re always avoiding me.” I raised an eyebrow. “Are we doing this again?” She blinked rapidly, like she was about to cry on cue. And maybe she was. I’d seen her pull this routine on Jacob a thousand times. “I’m not in the mood, Lavenia. Save the performance for your fan club.” I moved toward the door. She stepped back—then suddenly stumbled, gasping as the cake flew from her hands and smashed across her chest, rich chocolate and whipped cream splattering like a crime scene. Right on cue, Jacob and Luther appeared at the top of the staircase like trained guard dogs. They rushed toward her, shoving past me like I didn’t exist. “Lavi! Oh my god—what happened?” Jacob’s voice was tight, eyes locked on her frosting-smeared dress. “She shoved me,” Lavenia whimpered, clutching the ruined cake like it was a mortal wound. “I was just trying to bring her something sweet. For old times. She—she pushed it into me.” I stared at her, stunned. “What?” “She what?” Luther’s eyes blazed. “Pearl, what the hell is wrong with you?” “I didn’t touch her,” I snapped. “She dropped it herself. You all saw nothing but you're ready to believe this?” Jacob didn’t even glance my way. He was too busy dabbing frosting off Lavenia’s shoulder like it was acid. “Lavi, does it hurt?” he murmured. She sniffled and leaned into his chest. “Just a little. It’s okay… I shouldn’t have bothered her. She hates me now.” “You were her best friend,” Luther said, glaring at me. “You were like sisters. She always called you her only real friend. And this is how you treat her? Because you're jealous?” Jealous. I laughed—quiet, bitter. “You two belong in a soap opera. All that’s missing is a coma and a fake baby.” Jacob turned, jaw clenched. “You’re going to apologize." I blinked. “Excuse me?” “You heard me,” he said, voice low and furious. “Apologize to Lavenia. Now.” I stared him down, arms crossed. “No.” His eyes narrowed. “Then forget about the wedding we planned. You don’t apologize by tomorrow, I’m not proposing to you next month. Consider it off the table.” Silence snapped tight between us. Luther scoffed behind him. “You still wanna marry her, bro? Her true colors are showing now. What a waste. If I were you, I’d never marry a woman like her.” I tilted my head slowly, eyes locked on him. “That’s why no one ever would,” I said, voice like satin over steel. Luther flushed. Jacob's jaw ticked. Lavenia looked positively radiant, loving every second of the chaos she brewed. Then I turned toward the side railing to head back inside—but Jacob’s hand gripped my wrist. I barely had time to blink before he shoved me. Over the rail. Into the sea. Splash. The cold hit me like knives. My lungs clenched. The darkness swallowed me whole. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream. Help. My hands flailed above the surface, mouth gasping, choking on salt and panic. The water dragged at me like an anchor. I didn’t know how to swim. They knew that. “Pearl?!” Lavenia’s voice rang out behind me, loud and dramatic. “Somebody help—Pearl doesn’t know how to swim!” But it wasn’t panic. It was a performance. “Let her be,” Jacob said coolly, standing above like a god with no mercy. “That’s for bullying you. She's pain in the ass and maybe she’ll learn something after this.” I couldn’t even gasp anymore. I sank. That’s when I felt arms break through the water—strong, foreign, unfamiliar. A hand wrapped around my waist. The pull of the surface returned. A stranger’s voice, low and steady. “I’ve got you.” I coughed violently as my head broke above water. Chapter 2 The yacht docked at port just after dawn. No one said a word to me. Not Jacob. Not Luther. Not even Lavenia, who had cried so hard last night I almost believed her. Almost. I stepped off the deck in silence, soaked to the marrow with salt and humiliation, my skin still chilled from nearly drowning—and not just in water. Jacob had pushed me. Straight into the dark waves. And he hadn’t even flinched. “That's what you get,” he’d said afterward. “For being jealous. For acting like the world owes you something.” Not a sorry. Not a hand offered. Not even a glance of regret. And when that stranger dove in, dragging me back to the dock—he vanished like mist. No name. No thanks. Just a blur in the crowd. A ghost in human form. I stumbled back to the apartment alone. Shaking. Done. The second I stepped inside, I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I packed. Drawers opened. Suitcases filled. Clothes. Passports. Hard drives. The necklace my grandmother gave me. Anything worth keeping—anything untouched by them—was coming with me. I was folding my last coat when my phone buzzed. A message from Lavenia. Not even pretending to be subtle this time. “Hey Pearl~ Check out my Insta! New pics!” The nerve. I tapped the screen, already knowing what I’d see. There she was again—crowned and smug. Draped in one of my silk robes, the pink one from Milan I’d left on the yacht. Jacob beside her, shirtless, half-asleep, his arm around her and his nose nearly grazing her almost exposed breast. Luther on her other side, holding her like she was some kind of queen. A queen of snakes. Caption: “Best night ever with my fav boys. Thanks for making my birthday unforgettable. I loved every whip and bit of cream you gave me. ” “And guess what, Pearl? Jacob gave me your brand-new car. Said it was his money anyway, and the color suits me better. But don’t worry—I’ll let you borrow it… if you say please.” Then she posted my car on her insta. I just laughed. I tapped the little heart under her post, let it turn red, and tossed my phone on the bed. Tomorrow, I’d be gone. And when I left, I wasn’t taking ghosts with me. *** I submitted my resignation at the firm that afternoon, handed it in with a smile and shook a few hands like I wasn’t dismantling my entire life. When I got back to the apartment, it was time for the final cut. I dragged out a worn leather box from under the bed—heavy with memories and promises. Inside were the tokens of my past with them, each one a shard of what we used to be. Jacob’s silver necklace, delicate and engraved with a secret phrase only we ever knew. Luther’s old cigarette lighter, battered and cold, but still weighted with memories of smoky nights and whispered secrets. The cracked glass of Jacob’s luxury watch, frozen in time, ticking no more. I pulled out the crumpled love letters Jacob had written me when I was sixteen—folded poems hidden away, words I’d believed once were forever. Alongside them, notes from Luther—carefully folded, tucked beneath my door during sleepless nights at college. There was the leather jacket Jacob promised would be mine forever, its worn sleeves smelling faintly of his cologne. Luther’s dented motorcycle helmet, the one we’d joked about racing across the countryside with. And the tiny music box that played our song—the one we all loved—now silent and gathering dust. Click. Flame. I set the edge of the leather jacket alight first. It curled, blackening quickly. I tossed in the letters, the necklace, the lighter, the watch. Each item caught fire, the flames licking hungrily at the remnants of us. By the time Jacob burst into the room, half my past was already ash. “Pearl—what the fuck are you doing?!” His voice cracked, eyes wild. I didn’t flinch. “Getting rid of mold.” “Bullshit!” He stepped closer, desperation in his voice. “These aren’t just things. They’re our memories.” Luther followed, eyes darting to the burning pile. He lunged to grab the map but yelped when the flames bit at his fingers. “You’re insane. You just destroyed everything we had.” I met his gaze, cold and steady. “You gave my car to Lavenia. She gets the gifts, she can keep the memories too.” “You’re really doing this? Are you still not done throwing tantrums? You ruined her birthday last night with your immaturity.” I smiled, bitter and calm. “Yeah. I’m done. This is the last time… you’ll ever see me.” They watched the smoke curl up to the ceiling, the ashes settling like the end of us. Funny how they almost burned the city down for Lavenia’s fake tears—but when I was breaking apart, not one of them asked why. Now, they cried over what was left in flames. Chapter 3 Jacob and Luther didn’t give up that easily. After seeing the photos burn, they tried to patch things up—two lost boys grasping at a thread. “Come on, Pearl,” Jacob said, rubbing the back of his neck like he was about to confess to a crime. “Let’s go out to dinner. Our treat.” Luther nodded, voice softer than usual. “Yeah. Our favorite restaurant. Let's go there. Please. Just one dinner. Let us make it right.” I said nothing but nodded. Inside, I already knew it would be our last night together. We rode in Jacob’s sleek black car, the silence thick and awkward like static between us. Then Luther’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and grimaced. “It’s Lavenia.” I heard the panic in his voice as he answered. “Lavenia? What’s wrong?” Her high-pitched voice shattered the quiet. “The power’s out... someone broke into the house. I’m so scared—there’s a thief. Please, come quick!” Jacob’s jaw tightened. He glanced at me and then back to Luther. “Pearl, get out.” “What?” I blinked, stunned. “We’ll be back after we check on Lavenia,” Jacob said sharply. “You can’t come with us.” Before I could argue, they opened the door and shoved me out onto the dark, wet street. Rain immediately soaked my hair and clothes. They didn’t even wait for me to reach shelter before speeding off, red taillights bleeding into the storm. I just stood there a moment, soaked to the bone, mascara bleeding like betrayal. Then I smiled. Bitter and clean. Because now I knew—this wasn’t the last dinner. This was the funeral feast. And they didn’t even realize they’d been attending their own eulogy. *** I kicked off my heels three blocks in. They were satin, too slippery in the rain, and my toes were already blistered. I held them by the straps as I walked barefoot down the soaked pavement, dress clinging to my skin, hair stuck to my neck, every breath colder than the last. No taxi stopped. Not one. They saw me, I know they did. Drivers slowed, took one look at the drenched girl limping through the dark, and sped up like I was a ghost they didn’t want to deal with. I didn’t cry. Not then. I turned into an alley I thought was a shortcut, thinking maybe if I just cut through to the main road I’d catch a cab or a bus or even collapse near a streetlamp like some poetic wreck. But the shortcut had teeth. He stepped out from behind a dumpster, face shadowed and hoodie soaked through. I saw the glint of the knife too late, felt the rough shove of his hand before I even registered what he said. Something about a wallet, maybe my bag, maybe my phone. I didn’t care. I fought back anyway. I punched and clawed and screamed until my throat broke open, and that’s when he stabbed me. Once in the gut, then again lower, and a third time when I tried to crawl away. The pain was sharp and hot and then cold, so cold it stole my breath. I remember falling. I remember the way the pavement kissed my cheek like a farewell. And then I remember headlights. A door slamming. Someone shouting my name. Arms lifting me. I tried to speak, tried to tell them to call my aunt, tell her I’m sorry, tell her I won’t be able to bring those cookies after all. But my lips didn’t move. My vision blurred into static. Then I saw him. That face. Him. The same stranger who had jumped into the ocean during Lavenia’s birthday party. The same man who pulled me out of the freezing water when Jacob pushed me from the yacht deck “by accident.” I thought I hallucinated him that night. I thought maybe the sea gave me an angel. But he was real. He looked down at me as I bled through his white dress shirt, cradled in his arms, soaked from rain and blood and regret. “Stay with me, Pearl,” he said, voice deep and calm and commanding. “You’re not dying tonight. Not like this.” “Who… are you?” I think I whispered. He gave the ghost of a smile. “Sebastian.” Then he vanished again. Not in smoke or light, but in the clean, cruel way people like him do—when a secretary called his name and he slipped from the hospital room without asking for thanks. I stayed there for a week. Tubes in my arms, stitches in my stomach, silence in my soul. No visitors. No calls. Not even my mom—I told the nurses not to tell her. What was the point? I needed to lie still and feel it. The death of whatever part of me still hoped someone would come. And then on the day I was discharged, still pale and in a hospital gown, they appeared. Lavenia was on a stretcher, bleeding from her arms, wrists wrapped in soaked gauze, mascara smeared across her perfect porcelain face. She wailed like a siren. Jacob held her hand, whispering something soft, and Luther was right behind, holding her bag like a loyal mule. I stood in the corridor and they passed me. And they froze. Jacob blinked like he saw a corpse. Luther looked like he’d been sucker-punched. Pearl? That was all Jacob said. I looked at them both, then down at the IV tape still on my hand. I hadn’t even changed yet. The nurses were packing my things. I was supposed to go home. Instead, I met them. “You’re here?” Luther asked, voice hollow. “You were in the hospital?” Jacob stepped forward, reaching, but I stepped back. I laughed. Not loud. Not crazy. Just broken. “You didn’t even know,” I said quietly, “I was here for a week. Fighting to live. And none of you even noticed I was gone.” Their mouths opened but no words came out. And behind them, Lavenia screamed again, stealing all their attention. Of course she did. And once again, they turned toward her. And once again, I walked away. This time barefoot. This time bleeding inside. This time—free. Chapter 4 The apartment was still dark when I arrived. No lights. No warmth. Just stale air and the faint scent of something rotting in the sink. I didn’t bother flipping the switch. I dropped my bag by the door and kicked it shut behind me, each step echoing too loudly in the silence. I didn’t even change. The hospital gown was thin under my hoodie, but I didn’t care. I collapsed onto the couch face-first, arms dangling over the side like I was boneless. The fabric scratched against my bandages, but exhaustion won. Sleep wasn’t kind. It never is when your dreams know the truth before your mouth does. Hours passed. I woke up groggy and sore, blinking into the darkness, and then I heard it. Clattering. From the kitchen. I sat up slowly, my body heavy and cold and aching, and I padded toward the sound with bare feet. I thought maybe I was imagining things, that maybe I had left the TV on or someone was breaking in, but when I turned the corner, I saw them. Jacob was at the stove, grilling steak. Luther stood by the counter, chopping vegetables with precise, clean movements. The table was already set—plates, cutlery, glasses, even a folded napkin at each seat. They both looked up when they saw me standing there. Jacob was the first to speak. “We thought you were at your aunt’s,” he said, like that explained everything. “We didn’t want to disturb you.” Luther looked guilty, eyes flicking down to his knife and then back to me. “We didn’t know you were in the hospital,” he said, voice low. I didn’t answer. I just walked in and sat down at the table. I didn’t touch the food. Jacob frowned and turned off the stove. “You have to eat. You just got discharged.” I looked at him then. Cold. Clear. “You didn’t check on me for a week.” The silence that followed was loud enough to split bone. No one moved. No one breathed. Then the doorbell rang. Jacob and Luther both turned toward it, and Luther moved first, walking quickly to open the door. Lavenia stood there. She was pale and fragile, her wrists wrapped in clean bandages hidden beneath the sleeves of a delicate blouse, and she looked like a porcelain doll that had cracked but hadn’t shattered yet. The moment they saw her, they moved. Jacob rushed to her and picked her up like she weighed nothing, carrying her in his arms and laying her gently down on the couch. “You shouldn’t be out,” he whispered, brushing the hair from her face. “What if something happens to you?” “I was alone in the hospital room,” she said, looking up at Jacob with those wide, doe eyes. “And I kept thinking what if I never woke up again? What if I opened my eyes and no one was there? I panicked. I didn’t want to be alone tonight.” Jacob softened immediately and moved toward her, but she raised a hand weakly. “If it’s too much, I can go back,” she whispered. “Really. I didn’t mean to be a burden.” “Hey, hey, no,” Jacob murmured, voice full of worry. “You’re not a burden, okay? You should’ve called sooner. We’ll take care of you.” Luther hovered behind Jacob and said, “We’ll go back to the hospital after we check on Pearl. Then we’ll stay with you tonight.” I didn’t speak. I just picked up my fork and started eating. The steak was dry and overdone and still pink in the center, and I hated every bite. I chewed like it was cardboard, like it was ashes, and I kept eating anyway because I didn’t want them to see me stop. He made steak. My least favorite. They didn’t even remember. I forced out a laugh—small and bitter and almost invisible—and swallowed it down with a sip of water. Jacob and Luther were setting a place at the table for her now, helping her sit up and encouraging her to eat like she was made of glass. She took their attention like it was her birthright, and every so often she glanced at me with eyes that said you lost. And then my phone buzzed. I glanced at it and saw the name: Mom. She’d sent me over a dozen photos of wedding dresses—lace and silk and heavy beading, dramatic trains and cathedral veils, each more extravagant than the last. I scrolled through them with numb fingers, pausing on the third one—a satin off-the-shoulder gown with a cinched waist and cascading ruffles. I tapped the call button before I could change my mind. She picked up on the third ring, her voice warm and full of anticipation. “Pearl, did you get the dresses? I think the third one would suit you best. But if your fiancé prefers white—” “I love the third,” I said quickly, and this time I made sure my voice was light, even cheerful. “It’s perfect. I can already picture it. I’m really… excited.” She paused, maybe surprised by the change in my tone. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad. I knew you'd love it once you really looked. You always liked the more classic silhouettes.” I nodded even though she couldn’t see me and forced a small laugh. “Yeah. I think it’ll be beautiful. I’m really looking forward to the WEDDING.” There was a flicker of movement across the room. I didn’t look up. “How much longer do you need over there?” she asked. “Just a week. I’ll finish up and be home.” “Good. Everything here’s almost ready.” I hung up and set the phone down on the table, and that’s when I felt it—that silence that isn’t empty, but heavy. Like breath being held. I looked up. Jacob and Luther were staring at me. Lavenia had frozen where she sat, a fork suspended halfway to her mouth. Her expression was still soft, still wounded, but her eyes had gone sharp. Jacob was the first to move. He stepped away from Lavenia and crossed the room in seconds, voice cutting. “Wedding?” Luther followed close behind, brows furrowed, jaw tight. “What wedding?” #LoveAndLies #SecondChance #Betrayal #LoveTriangle #RevengeAndRedemption 📚Only a limited number of chapters can be displayed here. Click "Read More" to open the application and continue reading (it will automatically navigate to the corresponding book page).👇👇👇
Right there—in our bed—my biker was buried in some club bimbo. Me? Just a prey for his hunting game. Frozen in the doorway, I watched a pretty curly-haired brunette was draped over my biker Skull's lap, her pouty lips swallowing down his co-ck. "Your fu-cking perfect mouth, Rose." Skull rasped, fu-cking her deeper before pulling out, and making her a whining sound. The sight in front of me sucked the air out of my lungs, making it hard for me to stand still with my shivering legs. Rose moaned around his co-ck, teasing, a lazy smirk playing on her ki-ss-swollen lips. "How about the girl you've been chasing these days? Let her join us. I promise I know how to share." Skull laughed—a low, cruel sound that made my blood curdle. "Isla? Just a baby nurse. A next target. I'll fu-ck her, get her out of my system, and toss her aside. Soon." Tears burned behind my eyes, hot and sharp, as those two labels echoed over and over in my head: Baby nurse. Target. I'd been so stupid to think I was his only woman, that I was special—but I was no different from a club girl. —— SKULL Tangling her dark curls in my fist, I watch her pouty lips swallow down my co-ck. I'm standing at the edge of the bed while my identical twin, Bones, fu-cks Rose, one of the club girls, from behind. "Fu-ck, you always take us so well," he grits out, slapping her as-s hard. The sound echoes through the room. "You like having two big co-cks to play with, don't you? Show Skull just how good that mouth is." She moans around my co-ck, which sends a tingle down my spine. She knows what she's doing. We've fu-cked Rose plenty of times, always together. She's up for anything, and that's why she's one of the favorites here at Serpents of Chaos MC. She's been with all of the brothers at one time or another, but she hasn't started any sh-it with any of the old ladies, so she gets extra points for that. She knows the score, and we won't have to worry about her trying to get clingy with us tomorrow. "That fu-cking mouth," I rasp, fu-cking her deeper before pulling out. She makes a whining sound, wanting it back. Bones starts to fu-ck her harder, then pulls out and spins her around. We know what the other is thinking and what the other wants, and we work together like a well-oiled machine. This isn't our first rodeo, and the women we share never leave unsatisfied. I slide on a con-dom and start to fu-ck her pus-sy while Bones gets her mouth. She moans around his di-ck, loving every second of what she's getting. "What do you think, brother? Should we let her come again?" Bones rasps, gripping her hair and fu-cking her face. I reach between us and start stroking her cl-it. "Yeah, we can't let her leave here without coming at least six times. What do you think?" "I'm going to come in her mouth, and she's going to swallow every drop down like the good little who-re she is," he orders, looking down at her. "Aren't you, Rose?" She nods around him, then starts to scream as she comes all over my co-ck. "Fu-ck," I grunt as I follow her, gripping her as-s cheeks so hard I know she's going to have bruises tomorrow. Bones finishes with us. "Open your mouth and show me," he growls, and she does as she's told. "Good girl," he praises, letting go of her hair and lying down on the bed. "Stay here, Rose. We aren't done with you yet." She lies down between us, catching her breath. "Fu-ck, I came so hard that time." She sighs, closing her eyes. We let her sleep for an hour before waking her again. Still hungover from the celebrations the night before, I cover my eyes with my arm, trying to block the sunlight. My phone vibrates, and I feel like it isn't the first time. "Yeah," I bark, not checking to see who it is. "Skull, you and Bones need to get to the hospital right now," Scorp demands, and something in his tone has me sliding off my sheet and sitting up. "What is it?" I ask, standing. "Daisy showed up here last night and had the baby. She had left town but decided to come back to give birth." He pauses and takes a deep breath. My heart starts hammering in my chest. He can't be saying what I think he's saying, right? "I quickly ran the tests, and the baby is either yours or Bones." Fu-ck. No. We knew this was a slight possibility. We had both fu-cked Daisy. Yeah, we wore protection, but accidents happen. I guess it was twice as lucky that we were the father, since we both had her. What a fu-cking sh-it show. I quickly shower, get dressed, and head next door to my brother's room. Rose is still nak-ed in bed with him. We might have both fu-cked her last night, but while he allows sleepovers, I do not. "Bones, get up," I say, and his blue eyes, identical to my own, open. "What?" "Get dressed, we have to go to the hospital. Scorp called." His brows knit as he tries to process my words while he's still half asleep. He quickly gets up and stands in front of me. "Who's hurt?" "It's Daisy," I say, swallowing hard. "The baby. It's ours." He makes a choking sound, mixed with laughter that lacks his usual humor. "Stop messing around." "I'm not," I say quietly. We share a look. "Fu-ck," he grunts, stalking toward the bathroom with his hands behind his neck. Neither of us is father material. The first baby we ever held was Zade, Ora's son, and that was just last week. It's the blind fu-cking leading the blind here, and the child's mother is a club girl. What life is this baby going to have? While Bones gets ready, I pull out my phone and search the internet for what newborns need. Apparently, a lot. I'm going to need Ora's help with this one. On our way to our bikes, I turn to Bones. "Should we bring something?" At the same time, he says, "We should bring something, right?" One mind. "What though? I don't know what a baby needs." I nod in agreement. "Let's go check out the situation, and then we can go buy everything." I pause. "Should we bring Daisy flowers or something? She did just push out our baby." A muscle works in his jaw. "Yeah, all right. We can get something in the hospital gift shop." We take care of what's ours. It doesn't matter who the baby actually belongs to. He or she is ours. It's as simple and as complicated as that. When we step into the hospital, we find Scorp waiting for us at reception. My eyes drop to the tag that reads 'Dr. James.' The concerned look on his face doesn't bode well for us. He looks away from the paperwork in his hands, his green eyes darting from one of us to the other. "I don't know how to say this." "Just tell us," I demand quietly. He rubs the back of his neck. "Daisy left. She had the baby, and she left." I share a look with Bones. "What do you mean she fu-cking left?" Bones snarls, his jaw tightening. "Where the he-ll did she go?" "She left a note," Scorp says, handing it to us. I don't want this baby. Give it to her father. "Did she even know that we were the father?" I ask, trying to figure out why the fu-ck she has done something so heartless to an innocent child. "No," he admits, shaking his head. He lowers his tone. "She doesn't know I ran those tests. I still had the samples we took before she ran off. So I just tested your DNA with the baby's. It was a match. If you want, we can run more tests to find out which one of you is definitely the father." "No," we reply at the same time. "I thought as much." He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, his muscles straining against his fancy white doctor coat. "I think you should find out. You can both still raise her, but how is she going to call both of you dad? Think about it." She? We have a daughter. A little girl. Why am I more terrified than I was before? "We have a little girl?" Bones mutters, shaking his head like he's clearing his thoughts. "I'm going to need more guns." "There's more. Your daughter is in the NICU because she was born underweight. She's only a tiny little thing, and she needs some feeding and breathing support. We want to watch over her for a few more days to be safe," he explains, and my heart starts racing with pure fear. "But she will be okay?" I ask, frowning. "Yes, she will. Come on, you can both go see her." At the first sight of our daughter, lying in the clear crib, sound asleep, I instantly fall in love with her. A full head of blonde hair, long dark lashes, and the tiniest set of fingers and toes I've ever seen. She's perfect. Scorp lets us hold her hand through the circle holes in the crib. That has to be enough for today. We stay with her for hours. Bones heads home to sleep, and he will swap with me tomorrow morning. "She's the most adorable baby," the nurse says as she steps into the room. "Sorry to interrupt, I'm Isla. I'll be her night-shift nurse tonight." Her dark, thick hair is tied at her nape, big chocolate-brown doe eyes highlight her face, and even her scrubs can't hide her curvy body. "Skull," I reply. She's wearing glasses that I find really-fu-cking-adorable and hasn't checked me out even once. Isla picks up my baby girl's chart and reads over it, smiling down at her. "I caught her with her eyes open yesterday. Big blue eyes." She turns to me and looks me in the eye for the first time. "Just like yours." I study her for a few moments, but don't say anything in return. She goes about her business and then turns back to me. "You want me to get you anything. A coffee?" I'd love a coffee, but I shake my head. She must have seen just how much I wanted one on my face, because a few minutes later, she comes back and hands me one anyway. "I didn't know what you like so I guessed." I bring the cup to my lips. Black. One sugar. Just how I like it. "Thank you." "You're welcome, Daddy," she replies, flashing me an easy, amused smile, and then leaves once more. Daddy? Yeah, now is not the time, Skull. Little did I know how this one interaction with her would send me down a fu-cking rabbit hole. ISLA Clipboard in hand, I wince when I remember what I said to the hottest man I've ever seen in my life. Shoulder-length blond hair, intelligent crystal blue eyes, bluer than I've ever seen, framed in thick dark lashes, and tanned skin. Even sitting down, I can tell that he's tall and built. His biceps are straining against his white V-neck T-shirt, while his broad shoulders are the perfect perch for a woman to sit on. And I called him Daddy. To his face. Fu-ck my life. I knew I shouldn't have listened to all those BDSM audiobooks this month. He's here with his daughter, Isla. Shut it down and be professional. It's been a few days since that night, so hopefully he's forgotten all about our initial meeting. First impressions don't matter that much, right? I've never dated a patient, and I don't intend on breaking that rule now. Plus, a man who looks like that? Trouble. He's way out of my league. Definitely younger than me. A he-ll of a lot more attractive and fitter than me. Oh, and he just had a baby. I saw the note that said the mother had left the hospital without a backward glance, and he's the one raising the baby alone. I don't know how a woman could do that, but I'm here to help, not judge. And just because the baby's mother left, doesn't mean he's single. "Hello, how's the little angel today?" I say to him as I step into the room. He lifts his head and smiles. "She's good. I was wondering when I was going to see you again," he rasps, running a hand through his hair. "And why is that?" I ask, keeping my voice even. He smirks, but says nothing. He just studies me with that intelligent gaze before returning his attention to his daughter. I read the doctor's notes and smile. "I see Dr. James came in to see you both. Do you want to hold her?" I ask, and he lifts those blue eyes to mine as he nods. "Skin-to-skin contact is so important," I murmur, washing and drying my hands thoroughly. I clear my throat. "So if you want to remove your T-shirt, I can lay her on your chest." It's a normal suggestion I'd make, but it feels a little different this time. Without missing a beat, he stands to his full height. He's tall. I try to look away, I really do, but when he grips his T-shirt at his nape and reveals a smooth and ripped chest, indented abs, and a trail of blond hair pointing down the middle of his jeans, my mouth is suddenly dry. My pus-sy, not so much. If the other nurses see this, he's going to cause a riot. Some of them might come to work for free. When our eyes lock and hold, I don't miss the flicker of amusement there. He slowly sits back down, carefully lifting his daughter and resting her on his chest. He looks down at her, and the gentle look in his eyes makes me feel like I'm intruding on their moment. I cover them both with a warm blanket and keep myself busy, giving them their moment but not wanting to leave in case she needs anything. About thirty minutes later, he's still watching his baby girl so closely, like if he even blinks, she might disappear. He gently ki-sses the top of her head, and the sight melts my heart. I know how hard it is for parents to see their kids in the NICU, but his daughter is doing well. She'll be out of here and thriving in no time. He finally breaks the comfortable silence. "We still can't decide on a name for her." We. So there is another woman on the scene. "What do you have it narrowed down to?" I ask gently. "Natalia or Nyla." "Both beautiful names," I murmur, trying to picture which one would suit the adorable blonde hair, blue-eyed baby more. Natalia. I think she's a Natalia. I notice a book on the table next to him, a bookmark sitting halfway through it. Curiosity has me peering over to see what he's reading. I can make out the word emperor, but that's it. I find it incredibly se-xy that he reads, especially as a reader myself. I'm on my Kindle almost every night and have my audiobooks playing in the car on the way to and from work. "It's a good book," he comments, and when I look at him, I find his eyes already on me. "You can read it when I'm finished if you like." My lip twitches. "It doesn't look like my usual read." He grins, flashing straight white teeth. "Let me guess, you're a romance girl. No... dark romance." I laugh, sliding my pen out of my pocket and making a note on the chart. "I might enjoy a good fictional romance now and again." "Only fictional?" he asks, tilting his head to the side and studying me. Why does it feel like he can see right through me? Like if I lied about something, he would know. He's reading me, and I don't know if I like it. "That's the only place love like that exists," I mutter, and I know I sound cynical. But when you've been through what I have, you can't help but lose faith in dating and men in general. His daughter stirs, and I get some milk ready for her. When I hand him the bottle, our fingers touch. My eyes widen when he takes my hand and holds it. "I don't think that's true. Which name do you prefer?" I scan his face, trying to read him. "Natalia." Once he finally releases me, there's a reluctance on both our parts to move away from each other. When Dr. James steps in, I get the he-ll out of there. I don't need to be attracted to a man who goes by the name of Skull. Liz, one of my closest friends and also a nurse here, told me that he's a biker. She knows all the gossip. A biker. He's a walking, talking red flag of a bad boy book boyfriend. You know, one of those you love to read about but would be a total fu-cking disaster in real life? So what if he's the most beautifully masculine man I've ever seen in real life? So what if his muscles look like they've been sculptured by the gods themselves? Instalove is not one of my favorite tropes.
Right there—in our bed—my biker was buried in some club bimbo. Me? Just a prey for his hunting game. Frozen in the doorway, I watched a pretty curly-haired brunette was draped over my biker Skull's lap, her pouty lips swallowing down his co-ck. "Your fu-cking perfect mouth, Rose." Skull rasped, fu-cking her deeper before pulling out, and making her a whining sound. The sight in front of me sucked the air out of my lungs, making it hard for me to stand still with my shivering legs. Rose moaned around his co-ck, teasing, a lazy smirk playing on her ki-ss-swollen lips. "How about the girl you've been chasing these days? Let her join us. I promise I know how to share." Skull laughed—a low, cruel sound that made my blood curdle. "Isla? Just a baby nurse. A next target. I'll fu-ck her, get her out of my system, and toss her aside. Soon." Tears burned behind my eyes, hot and sharp, as those two labels echoed over and over in my head: Baby nurse. Target. I'd been so stupid to think I was his only woman, that I was special—but I was no different from a club girl. —— SKULL Tangling her dark curls in my fist, I watch her pouty lips swallow down my co-ck. I'm standing at the edge of the bed while my identical twin, Bones, fu-cks Rose, one of the club girls, from behind. "Fu-ck, you always take us so well," he grits out, slapping her as-s hard. The sound echoes through the room. "You like having two big co-cks to play with, don't you? Show Skull just how good that mouth is." She moans around my co-ck, which sends a tingle down my spine. She knows what she's doing. We've fu-cked Rose plenty of times, always together. She's up for anything, and that's why she's one of the favorites here at Serpents of Chaos MC. She's been with all of the brothers at one time or another, but she hasn't started any sh-it with any of the old ladies, so she gets extra points for that. She knows the score, and we won't have to worry about her trying to get clingy with us tomorrow. "That fu-cking mouth," I rasp, fu-cking her deeper before pulling out. She makes a whining sound, wanting it back. Bones starts to fu-ck her harder, then pulls out and spins her around. We know what the other is thinking and what the other wants, and we work together like a well-oiled machine. This isn't our first rodeo, and the women we share never leave unsatisfied. I slide on a con-dom and start to fu-ck her pus-sy while Bones gets her mouth. She moans around his di-ck, loving every second of what she's getting. "What do you think, brother? Should we let her come again?" Bones rasps, gripping her hair and fu-cking her face. I reach between us and start stroking her cl-it. "Yeah, we can't let her leave here without coming at least six times. What do you think?" "I'm going to come in her mouth, and she's going to swallow every drop down like the good little who-re she is," he orders, looking down at her. "Aren't you, Rose?" She nods around him, then starts to scream as she comes all over my co-ck. "Fu-ck," I grunt as I follow her, gripping her as-s cheeks so hard I know she's going to have bruises tomorrow. Bones finishes with us. "Open your mouth and show me," he growls, and she does as she's told. "Good girl," he praises, letting go of her hair and lying down on the bed. "Stay here, Rose. We aren't done with you yet." She lies down between us, catching her breath. "Fu-ck, I came so hard that time." She sighs, closing her eyes. We let her sleep for an hour before waking her again. Still hungover from the celebrations the night before, I cover my eyes with my arm, trying to block the sunlight. My phone vibrates, and I feel like it isn't the first time. "Yeah," I bark, not checking to see who it is. "Skull, you and Bones need to get to the hospital right now," Scorp demands, and something in his tone has me sliding off my sheet and sitting up. "What is it?" I ask, standing. "Daisy showed up here last night and had the baby. She had left town but decided to come back to give birth." He pauses and takes a deep breath. My heart starts hammering in my chest. He can't be saying what I think he's saying, right? "I quickly ran the tests, and the baby is either yours or Bones." Fu-ck. No. We knew this was a slight possibility. We had both fu-cked Daisy. Yeah, we wore protection, but accidents happen. I guess it was twice as lucky that we were the father, since we both had her. What a fu-cking sh-it show. I quickly shower, get dressed, and head next door to my brother's room. Rose is still nak-ed in bed with him. We might have both fu-cked her last night, but while he allows sleepovers, I do not. "Bones, get up," I say, and his blue eyes, identical to my own, open. "What?" "Get dressed, we have to go to the hospital. Scorp called." His brows knit as he tries to process my words while he's still half asleep. He quickly gets up and stands in front of me. "Who's hurt?" "It's Daisy," I say, swallowing hard. "The baby. It's ours." He makes a choking sound, mixed with laughter that lacks his usual humor. "Stop messing around." "I'm not," I say quietly. We share a look. "Fu-ck," he grunts, stalking toward the bathroom with his hands behind his neck. Neither of us is father material. The first baby we ever held was Zade, Ora's son, and that was just last week. It's the blind fu-cking leading the blind here, and the child's mother is a club girl. What life is this baby going to have? While Bones gets ready, I pull out my phone and search the internet for what newborns need. Apparently, a lot. I'm going to need Ora's help with this one. On our way to our bikes, I turn to Bones. "Should we bring something?" At the same time, he says, "We should bring something, right?" One mind. "What though? I don't know what a baby needs." I nod in agreement. "Let's go check out the situation, and then we can go buy everything." I pause. "Should we bring Daisy flowers or something? She did just push out our baby." A muscle works in his jaw. "Yeah, all right. We can get something in the hospital gift shop." We take care of what's ours. It doesn't matter who the baby actually belongs to. He or she is ours. It's as simple and as complicated as that. When we step into the hospital, we find Scorp waiting for us at reception. My eyes drop to the tag that reads 'Dr. James.' The concerned look on his face doesn't bode well for us. He looks away from the paperwork in his hands, his green eyes darting from one of us to the other. "I don't know how to say this." "Just tell us," I demand quietly. He rubs the back of his neck. "Daisy left. She had the baby, and she left." I share a look with Bones. "What do you mean she fu-cking left?" Bones snarls, his jaw tightening. "Where the he-ll did she go?" "She left a note," Scorp says, handing it to us. I don't want this baby. Give it to her father. "Did she even know that we were the father?" I ask, trying to figure out why the fu-ck she has done something so heartless to an innocent child. "No," he admits, shaking his head. He lowers his tone. "She doesn't know I ran those tests. I still had the samples we took before she ran off. So I just tested your DNA with the baby's. It was a match. If you want, we can run more tests to find out which one of you is definitely the father." "No," we reply at the same time. "I thought as much." He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, his muscles straining against his fancy white doctor coat. "I think you should find out. You can both still raise her, but how is she going to call both of you dad? Think about it." She? We have a daughter. A little girl. Why am I more terrified than I was before? "We have a little girl?" Bones mutters, shaking his head like he's clearing his thoughts. "I'm going to need more guns." "There's more. Your daughter is in the NICU because she was born underweight. She's only a tiny little thing, and she needs some feeding and breathing support. We want to watch over her for a few more days to be safe," he explains, and my heart starts racing with pure fear. "But she will be okay?" I ask, frowning. "Yes, she will. Come on, you can both go see her." At the first sight of our daughter, lying in the clear crib, sound asleep, I instantly fall in love with her. A full head of blonde hair, long dark lashes, and the tiniest set of fingers and toes I've ever seen. She's perfect. Scorp lets us hold her hand through the circle holes in the crib. That has to be enough for today. We stay with her for hours. Bones heads home to sleep, and he will swap with me tomorrow morning. "She's the most adorable baby," the nurse says as she steps into the room. "Sorry to interrupt, I'm Isla. I'll be her night-shift nurse tonight." Her dark, thick hair is tied at her nape, big chocolate-brown doe eyes highlight her face, and even her scrubs can't hide her curvy body. "Skull," I reply. She's wearing glasses that I find really-fu-cking-adorable and hasn't checked me out even once. Isla picks up my baby girl's chart and reads over it, smiling down at her. "I caught her with her eyes open yesterday. Big blue eyes." She turns to me and looks me in the eye for the first time. "Just like yours." I study her for a few moments, but don't say anything in return. She goes about her business and then turns back to me. "You want me to get you anything. A coffee?" I'd love a coffee, but I shake my head. She must have seen just how much I wanted one on my face, because a few minutes later, she comes back and hands me one anyway. "I didn't know what you like so I guessed." I bring the cup to my lips. Black. One sugar. Just how I like it. "Thank you." "You're welcome, Daddy," she replies, flashing me an easy, amused smile, and then leaves once more. Daddy? Yeah, now is not the time, Skull. Little did I know how this one interaction with her would send me down a fu-cking rabbit hole. ISLA Clipboard in hand, I wince when I remember what I said to the hottest man I've ever seen in my life. Shoulder-length blond hair, intelligent crystal blue eyes, bluer than I've ever seen, framed in thick dark lashes, and tanned skin. Even sitting down, I can tell that he's tall and built. His biceps are straining against his white V-neck T-shirt, while his broad shoulders are the perfect perch for a woman to sit on. And I called him Daddy. To his face. Fu-ck my life. I knew I shouldn't have listened to all those BDSM audiobooks this month. He's here with his daughter, Isla. Shut it down and be professional. It's been a few days since that night, so hopefully he's forgotten all about our initial meeting. First impressions don't matter that much, right? I've never dated a patient, and I don't intend on breaking that rule now. Plus, a man who looks like that? Trouble. He's way out of my league. Definitely younger than me. A he-ll of a lot more attractive and fitter than me. Oh, and he just had a baby. I saw the note that said the mother had left the hospital without a backward glance, and he's the one raising the baby alone. I don't know how a woman could do that, but I'm here to help, not judge. And just because the baby's mother left, doesn't mean he's single. "Hello, how's the little angel today?" I say to him as I step into the room. He lifts his head and smiles. "She's good. I was wondering when I was going to see you again," he rasps, running a hand through his hair. "And why is that?" I ask, keeping my voice even. He smirks, but says nothing. He just studies me with that intelligent gaze before returning his attention to his daughter. I read the doctor's notes and smile. "I see Dr. James came in to see you both. Do you want to hold her?" I ask, and he lifts those blue eyes to mine as he nods. "Skin-to-skin contact is so important," I murmur, washing and drying my hands thoroughly. I clear my throat. "So if you want to remove your T-shirt, I can lay her on your chest." It's a normal suggestion I'd make, but it feels a little different this time. Without missing a beat, he stands to his full height. He's tall. I try to look away, I really do, but when he grips his T-shirt at his nape and reveals a smooth and ripped chest, indented abs, and a trail of blond hair pointing down the middle of his jeans, my mouth is suddenly dry. My pus-sy, not so much. If the other nurses see this, he's going to cause a riot. Some of them might come to work for free. When our eyes lock and hold, I don't miss the flicker of amusement there. He slowly sits back down, carefully lifting his daughter and resting her on his chest. He looks down at her, and the gentle look in his eyes makes me feel like I'm intruding on their moment. I cover them both with a warm blanket and keep myself busy, giving them their moment but not wanting to leave in case she needs anything. About thirty minutes later, he's still watching his baby girl so closely, like if he even blinks, she might disappear. He gently ki-sses the top of her head, and the sight melts my heart. I know how hard it is for parents to see their kids in the NICU, but his daughter is doing well. She'll be out of here and thriving in no time. He finally breaks the comfortable silence. "We still can't decide on a name for her." We. So there is another woman on the scene. "What do you have it narrowed down to?" I ask gently. "Natalia or Nyla." "Both beautiful names," I murmur, trying to picture which one would suit the adorable blonde hair, blue-eyed baby more. Natalia. I think she's a Natalia. I notice a book on the table next to him, a bookmark sitting halfway through it. Curiosity has me peering over to see what he's reading. I can make out the word emperor, but that's it. I find it incredibly se-xy that he reads, especially as a reader myself. I'm on my Kindle almost every night and have my audiobooks playing in the car on the way to and from work. "It's a good book," he comments, and when I look at him, I find his eyes already on me. "You can read it when I'm finished if you like." My lip twitches. "It doesn't look like my usual read." He grins, flashing straight white teeth. "Let me guess, you're a romance girl. No... dark romance." I laugh, sliding my pen out of my pocket and making a note on the chart. "I might enjoy a good fictional romance now and again." "Only fictional?" he asks, tilting his head to the side and studying me. Why does it feel like he can see right through me? Like if I lied about something, he would know. He's reading me, and I don't know if I like it. "That's the only place love like that exists," I mutter, and I know I sound cynical. But when you've been through what I have, you can't help but lose faith in dating and men in general. His daughter stirs, and I get some milk ready for her. When I hand him the bottle, our fingers touch. My eyes widen when he takes my hand and holds it. "I don't think that's true. Which name do you prefer?" I scan his face, trying to read him. "Natalia." Once he finally releases me, there's a reluctance on both our parts to move away from each other. When Dr. James steps in, I get the he-ll out of there. I don't need to be attracted to a man who goes by the name of Skull. Liz, one of my closest friends and also a nurse here, told me that he's a biker. She knows all the gossip. A biker. He's a walking, talking red flag of a bad boy book boyfriend. You know, one of those you love to read about but would be a total fu-cking disaster in real life? So what if he's the most beautifully masculine man I've ever seen in real life? So what if his muscles look like they've been sculptured by the gods themselves? Instalove is not one of my favorite tropes.
Right there—in our bed—my biker was buried in some club bimbo. Me? Just a prey for his hunting game. Frozen in the doorway, I watched a pretty curly-haired brunette was draped over my biker Skull's lap, her pouty lips swallowing down his co-ck. "Your fu-cking perfect mouth, Rose." Skull rasped, fu-cking her deeper before pulling out, and making her a whining sound. The sight in front of me sucked the air out of my lungs, making it hard for me to stand still with my shivering legs. Rose moaned around his co-ck, teasing, a lazy smirk playing on her ki-ss-swollen lips. "How about the girl you've been chasing these days? Let her join us. I promise I know how to share." Skull laughed—a low, cruel sound that made my blood curdle. "Isla? Just a baby nurse. A next target. I'll fu-ck her, get her out of my system, and toss her aside. Soon." Tears burned behind my eyes, hot and sharp, as those two labels echoed over and over in my head: Baby nurse. Target. I'd been so stupid to think I was his only woman, that I was special—but I was no different from a club girl. —— SKULL Tangling her dark curls in my fist, I watch her pouty lips swallow down my co-ck. I'm standing at the edge of the bed while my identical twin, Bones, fu-cks Rose, one of the club girls, from behind. "Fu-ck, you always take us so well," he grits out, slapping her as-s hard. The sound echoes through the room. "You like having two big co-cks to play with, don't you? Show Skull just how good that mouth is." She moans around my co-ck, which sends a tingle down my spine. She knows what she's doing. We've fu-cked Rose plenty of times, always together. She's up for anything, and that's why she's one of the favorites here at Serpents of Chaos MC. She's been with all of the brothers at one time or another, but she hasn't started any sh-it with any of the old ladies, so she gets extra points for that. She knows the score, and we won't have to worry about her trying to get clingy with us tomorrow. "That fu-cking mouth," I rasp, fu-cking her deeper before pulling out. She makes a whining sound, wanting it back. Bones starts to fu-ck her harder, then pulls out and spins her around. We know what the other is thinking and what the other wants, and we work together like a well-oiled machine. This isn't our first rodeo, and the women we share never leave unsatisfied. I slide on a con-dom and start to fu-ck her pus-sy while Bones gets her mouth. She moans around his di-ck, loving every second of what she's getting. "What do you think, brother? Should we let her come again?" Bones rasps, gripping her hair and fu-cking her face. I reach between us and start stroking her cl-it. "Yeah, we can't let her leave here without coming at least six times. What do you think?" "I'm going to come in her mouth, and she's going to swallow every drop down like the good little who-re she is," he orders, looking down at her. "Aren't you, Rose?" She nods around him, then starts to scream as she comes all over my co-ck. "Fu-ck," I grunt as I follow her, gripping her as-s cheeks so hard I know she's going to have bruises tomorrow. Bones finishes with us. "Open your mouth and show me," he growls, and she does as she's told. "Good girl," he praises, letting go of her hair and lying down on the bed. "Stay here, Rose. We aren't done with you yet." She lies down between us, catching her breath. "Fu-ck, I came so hard that time." She sighs, closing her eyes. We let her sleep for an hour before waking her again. Still hungover from the celebrations the night before, I cover my eyes with my arm, trying to block the sunlight. My phone vibrates, and I feel like it isn't the first time. "Yeah," I bark, not checking to see who it is. "Skull, you and Bones need to get to the hospital right now," Scorp demands, and something in his tone has me sliding off my sheet and sitting up. "What is it?" I ask, standing. "Daisy showed up here last night and had the baby. She had left town but decided to come back to give birth." He pauses and takes a deep breath. My heart starts hammering in my chest. He can't be saying what I think he's saying, right? "I quickly ran the tests, and the baby is either yours or Bones." Fu-ck. No. We knew this was a slight possibility. We had both fu-cked Daisy. Yeah, we wore protection, but accidents happen. I guess it was twice as lucky that we were the father, since we both had her. What a fu-cking sh-it show. I quickly shower, get dressed, and head next door to my brother's room. Rose is still nak-ed in bed with him. We might have both fu-cked her last night, but while he allows sleepovers, I do not. "Bones, get up," I say, and his blue eyes, identical to my own, open. "What?" "Get dressed, we have to go to the hospital. Scorp called." His brows knit as he tries to process my words while he's still half asleep. He quickly gets up and stands in front of me. "Who's hurt?" "It's Daisy," I say, swallowing hard. "The baby. It's ours." He makes a choking sound, mixed with laughter that lacks his usual humor. "Stop messing around." "I'm not," I say quietly. We share a look. "Fu-ck," he grunts, stalking toward the bathroom with his hands behind his neck. Neither of us is father material. The first baby we ever held was Zade, Ora's son, and that was just last week. It's the blind fu-cking leading the blind here, and the child's mother is a club girl. What life is this baby going to have? While Bones gets ready, I pull out my phone and search the internet for what newborns need. Apparently, a lot. I'm going to need Ora's help with this one. On our way to our bikes, I turn to Bones. "Should we bring something?" At the same time, he says, "We should bring something, right?" One mind. "What though? I don't know what a baby needs." I nod in agreement. "Let's go check out the situation, and then we can go buy everything." I pause. "Should we bring Daisy flowers or something? She did just push out our baby." A muscle works in his jaw. "Yeah, all right. We can get something in the hospital gift shop." We take care of what's ours. It doesn't matter who the baby actually belongs to. He or she is ours. It's as simple and as complicated as that. When we step into the hospital, we find Scorp waiting for us at reception. My eyes drop to the tag that reads 'Dr. James.' The concerned look on his face doesn't bode well for us. He looks away from the paperwork in his hands, his green eyes darting from one of us to the other. "I don't know how to say this." "Just tell us," I demand quietly. He rubs the back of his neck. "Daisy left. She had the baby, and she left." I share a look with Bones. "What do you mean she fu-cking left?" Bones snarls, his jaw tightening. "Where the he-ll did she go?" "She left a note," Scorp says, handing it to us. I don't want this baby. Give it to her father. "Did she even know that we were the father?" I ask, trying to figure out why the fu-ck she has done something so heartless to an innocent child. "No," he admits, shaking his head. He lowers his tone. "She doesn't know I ran those tests. I still had the samples we took before she ran off. So I just tested your DNA with the baby's. It was a match. If you want, we can run more tests to find out which one of you is definitely the father." "No," we reply at the same time. "I thought as much." He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, his muscles straining against his fancy white doctor coat. "I think you should find out. You can both still raise her, but how is she going to call both of you dad? Think about it." She? We have a daughter. A little girl. Why am I more terrified than I was before? "We have a little girl?" Bones mutters, shaking his head like he's clearing his thoughts. "I'm going to need more guns." "There's more. Your daughter is in the NICU because she was born underweight. She's only a tiny little thing, and she needs some feeding and breathing support. We want to watch over her for a few more days to be safe," he explains, and my heart starts racing with pure fear. "But she will be okay?" I ask, frowning. "Yes, she will. Come on, you can both go see her." At the first sight of our daughter, lying in the clear crib, sound asleep, I instantly fall in love with her. A full head of blonde hair, long dark lashes, and the tiniest set of fingers and toes I've ever seen. She's perfect. Scorp lets us hold her hand through the circle holes in the crib. That has to be enough for today. We stay with her for hours. Bones heads home to sleep, and he will swap with me tomorrow morning. "She's the most adorable baby," the nurse says as she steps into the room. "Sorry to interrupt, I'm Isla. I'll be her night-shift nurse tonight." Her dark, thick hair is tied at her nape, big chocolate-brown doe eyes highlight her face, and even her scrubs can't hide her curvy body. "Skull," I reply. She's wearing glasses that I find really-fu-cking-adorable and hasn't checked me out even once. Isla picks up my baby girl's chart and reads over it, smiling down at her. "I caught her with her eyes open yesterday. Big blue eyes." She turns to me and looks me in the eye for the first time. "Just like yours." I study her for a few moments, but don't say anything in return. She goes about her business and then turns back to me. "You want me to get you anything. A coffee?" I'd love a coffee, but I shake my head. She must have seen just how much I wanted one on my face, because a few minutes later, she comes back and hands me one anyway. "I didn't know what you like so I guessed." I bring the cup to my lips. Black. One sugar. Just how I like it. "Thank you." "You're welcome, Daddy," she replies, flashing me an easy, amused smile, and then leaves once more. Daddy? Yeah, now is not the time, Skull. Little did I know how this one interaction with her would send me down a fu-cking rabbit hole. ISLA Clipboard in hand, I wince when I remember what I said to the hottest man I've ever seen in my life. Shoulder-length blond hair, intelligent crystal blue eyes, bluer than I've ever seen, framed in thick dark lashes, and tanned skin. Even sitting down, I can tell that he's tall and built. His biceps are straining against his white V-neck T-shirt, while his broad shoulders are the perfect perch for a woman to sit on. And I called him Daddy. To his face. Fu-ck my life. I knew I shouldn't have listened to all those BDSM audiobooks this month. He's here with his daughter, Isla. Shut it down and be professional. It's been a few days since that night, so hopefully he's forgotten all about our initial meeting. First impressions don't matter that much, right? I've never dated a patient, and I don't intend on breaking that rule now. Plus, a man who looks like that? Trouble. He's way out of my league. Definitely younger than me. A he-ll of a lot more attractive and fitter than me. Oh, and he just had a baby. I saw the note that said the mother had left the hospital without a backward glance, and he's the one raising the baby alone. I don't know how a woman could do that, but I'm here to help, not judge. And just because the baby's mother left, doesn't mean he's single. "Hello, how's the little angel today?" I say to him as I step into the room. He lifts his head and smiles. "She's good. I was wondering when I was going to see you again," he rasps, running a hand through his hair. "And why is that?" I ask, keeping my voice even. He smirks, but says nothing. He just studies me with that intelligent gaze before returning his attention to his daughter. I read the doctor's notes and smile. "I see Dr. James came in to see you both. Do you want to hold her?" I ask, and he lifts those blue eyes to mine as he nods. "Skin-to-skin contact is so important," I murmur, washing and drying my hands thoroughly. I clear my throat. "So if you want to remove your T-shirt, I can lay her on your chest." It's a normal suggestion I'd make, but it feels a little different this time. Without missing a beat, he stands to his full height. He's tall. I try to look away, I really do, but when he grips his T-shirt at his nape and reveals a smooth and ripped chest, indented abs, and a trail of blond hair pointing down the middle of his jeans, my mouth is suddenly dry. My pus-sy, not so much. If the other nurses see this, he's going to cause a riot. Some of them might come to work for free. When our eyes lock and hold, I don't miss the flicker of amusement there. He slowly sits back down, carefully lifting his daughter and resting her on his chest. He looks down at her, and the gentle look in his eyes makes me feel like I'm intruding on their moment. I cover them both with a warm blanket and keep myself busy, giving them their moment but not wanting to leave in case she needs anything. About thirty minutes later, he's still watching his baby girl so closely, like if he even blinks, she might disappear. He gently ki-sses the top of her head, and the sight melts my heart. I know how hard it is for parents to see their kids in the NICU, but his daughter is doing well. She'll be out of here and thriving in no time. He finally breaks the comfortable silence. "We still can't decide on a name for her." We. So there is another woman on the scene. "What do you have it narrowed down to?" I ask gently. "Natalia or Nyla." "Both beautiful names," I murmur, trying to picture which one would suit the adorable blonde hair, blue-eyed baby more. Natalia. I think she's a Natalia. I notice a book on the table next to him, a bookmark sitting halfway through it. Curiosity has me peering over to see what he's reading. I can make out the word emperor, but that's it. I find it incredibly se-xy that he reads, especially as a reader myself. I'm on my Kindle almost every night and have my audiobooks playing in the car on the way to and from work. "It's a good book," he comments, and when I look at him, I find his eyes already on me. "You can read it when I'm finished if you like." My lip twitches. "It doesn't look like my usual read." He grins, flashing straight white teeth. "Let me guess, you're a romance girl. No... dark romance." I laugh, sliding my pen out of my pocket and making a note on the chart. "I might enjoy a good fictional romance now and again." "Only fictional?" he asks, tilting his head to the side and studying me. Why does it feel like he can see right through me? Like if I lied about something, he would know. He's reading me, and I don't know if I like it. "That's the only place love like that exists," I mutter, and I know I sound cynical. But when you've been through what I have, you can't help but lose faith in dating and men in general. His daughter stirs, and I get some milk ready for her. When I hand him the bottle, our fingers touch. My eyes widen when he takes my hand and holds it. "I don't think that's true. Which name do you prefer?" I scan his face, trying to read him. "Natalia." Once he finally releases me, there's a reluctance on both our parts to move away from each other. When Dr. James steps in, I get the he-ll out of there. I don't need to be attracted to a man who goes by the name of Skull. Liz, one of my closest friends and also a nurse here, told me that he's a biker. She knows all the gossip. A biker. He's a walking, talking red flag of a bad boy book boyfriend. You know, one of those you love to read about but would be a total fu-cking disaster in real life? So what if he's the most beautifully masculine man I've ever seen in real life? So what if his muscles look like they've been sculptured by the gods themselves? Instalove is not one of my favorite tropes.
Right there—in our bed—my biker was buried in some club bimbo. Me? Just a prey for his hunting game. Frozen in the doorway, I watched a pretty curly-haired brunette was draped over my biker Skull's lap, her pouty lips swallowing down his co-ck. "Your fu-cking perfect mouth, Rose." Skull rasped, fu-cking her deeper before pulling out, and making her a whining sound. The sight in front of me sucked the air out of my lungs, making it hard for me to stand still with my shivering legs. Rose moaned around his co-ck, teasing, a lazy smirk playing on her ki-ss-swollen lips. "How about the girl you've been chasing these days? Let her join us. I promise I know how to share." Skull laughed—a low, cruel sound that made my blood curdle. "Isla? Just a baby nurse. A next target. I'll fu-ck her, get her out of my system, and toss her aside. Soon." Tears burned behind my eyes, hot and sharp, as those two labels echoed over and over in my head: Baby nurse. Target. I'd been so stupid to think I was his only woman, that I was special—but I was no different from a club girl. —— SKULL Tangling her dark curls in my fist, I watch her pouty lips swallow down my co-ck. I'm standing at the edge of the bed while my identical twin, Bones, fu-cks Rose, one of the club girls, from behind. "Fu-ck, you always take us so well," he grits out, slapping her as-s hard. The sound echoes through the room. "You like having two big co-cks to play with, don't you? Show Skull just how good that mouth is." She moans around my co-ck, which sends a tingle down my spine. She knows what she's doing. We've fu-cked Rose plenty of times, always together. She's up for anything, and that's why she's one of the favorites here at Serpents of Chaos MC. She's been with all of the brothers at one time or another, but she hasn't started any sh-it with any of the old ladies, so she gets extra points for that. She knows the score, and we won't have to worry about her trying to get clingy with us tomorrow. "That fu-cking mouth," I rasp, fu-cking her deeper before pulling out. She makes a whining sound, wanting it back. Bones starts to fu-ck her harder, then pulls out and spins her around. We know what the other is thinking and what the other wants, and we work together like a well-oiled machine. This isn't our first rodeo, and the women we share never leave unsatisfied. I slide on a con-dom and start to fu-ck her pus-sy while Bones gets her mouth. She moans around his di-ck, loving every second of what she's getting. "What do you think, brother? Should we let her come again?" Bones rasps, gripping her hair and fu-cking her face. I reach between us and start stroking her cl-it. "Yeah, we can't let her leave here without coming at least six times. What do you think?" "I'm going to come in her mouth, and she's going to swallow every drop down like the good little who-re she is," he orders, looking down at her. "Aren't you, Rose?" She nods around him, then starts to scream as she comes all over my co-ck. "Fu-ck," I grunt as I follow her, gripping her as-s cheeks so hard I know she's going to have bruises tomorrow. Bones finishes with us. "Open your mouth and show me," he growls, and she does as she's told. "Good girl," he praises, letting go of her hair and lying down on the bed. "Stay here, Rose. We aren't done with you yet." She lies down between us, catching her breath. "Fu-ck, I came so hard that time." She sighs, closing her eyes. We let her sleep for an hour before waking her again. Still hungover from the celebrations the night before, I cover my eyes with my arm, trying to block the sunlight. My phone vibrates, and I feel like it isn't the first time. "Yeah," I bark, not checking to see who it is. "Skull, you and Bones need to get to the hospital right now," Scorp demands, and something in his tone has me sliding off my sheet and sitting up. "What is it?" I ask, standing. "Daisy showed up here last night and had the baby. She had left town but decided to come back to give birth." He pauses and takes a deep breath. My heart starts hammering in my chest. He can't be saying what I think he's saying, right? "I quickly ran the tests, and the baby is either yours or Bones." Fu-ck. No. We knew this was a slight possibility. We had both fu-cked Daisy. Yeah, we wore protection, but accidents happen. I guess it was twice as lucky that we were the father, since we both had her. What a fu-cking sh-it show. I quickly shower, get dressed, and head next door to my brother's room. Rose is still nak-ed in bed with him. We might have both fu-cked her last night, but while he allows sleepovers, I do not. "Bones, get up," I say, and his blue eyes, identical to my own, open. "What?" "Get dressed, we have to go to the hospital. Scorp called." His brows knit as he tries to process my words while he's still half asleep. He quickly gets up and stands in front of me. "Who's hurt?" "It's Daisy," I say, swallowing hard. "The baby. It's ours." He makes a choking sound, mixed with laughter that lacks his usual humor. "Stop messing around." "I'm not," I say quietly. We share a look. "Fu-ck," he grunts, stalking toward the bathroom with his hands behind his neck. Neither of us is father material. The first baby we ever held was Zade, Ora's son, and that was just last week. It's the blind fu-cking leading the blind here, and the child's mother is a club girl. What life is this baby going to have? While Bones gets ready, I pull out my phone and search the internet for what newborns need. Apparently, a lot. I'm going to need Ora's help with this one. On our way to our bikes, I turn to Bones. "Should we bring something?" At the same time, he says, "We should bring something, right?" One mind. "What though? I don't know what a baby needs." I nod in agreement. "Let's go check out the situation, and then we can go buy everything." I pause. "Should we bring Daisy flowers or something? She did just push out our baby." A muscle works in his jaw. "Yeah, all right. We can get something in the hospital gift shop." We take care of what's ours. It doesn't matter who the baby actually belongs to. He or she is ours. It's as simple and as complicated as that. When we step into the hospital, we find Scorp waiting for us at reception. My eyes drop to the tag that reads 'Dr. James.' The concerned look on his face doesn't bode well for us. He looks away from the paperwork in his hands, his green eyes darting from one of us to the other. "I don't know how to say this." "Just tell us," I demand quietly. He rubs the back of his neck. "Daisy left. She had the baby, and she left." I share a look with Bones. "What do you mean she fu-cking left?" Bones snarls, his jaw tightening. "Where the he-ll did she go?" "She left a note," Scorp says, handing it to us. I don't want this baby. Give it to her father. "Did she even know that we were the father?" I ask, trying to figure out why the fu-ck she has done something so heartless to an innocent child. "No," he admits, shaking his head. He lowers his tone. "She doesn't know I ran those tests. I still had the samples we took before she ran off. So I just tested your DNA with the baby's. It was a match. If you want, we can run more tests to find out which one of you is definitely the father." "No," we reply at the same time. "I thought as much." He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, his muscles straining against his fancy white doctor coat. "I think you should find out. You can both still raise her, but how is she going to call both of you dad? Think about it." She? We have a daughter. A little girl. Why am I more terrified than I was before? "We have a little girl?" Bones mutters, shaking his head like he's clearing his thoughts. "I'm going to need more guns." "There's more. Your daughter is in the NICU because she was born underweight. She's only a tiny little thing, and she needs some feeding and breathing support. We want to watch over her for a few more days to be safe," he explains, and my heart starts racing with pure fear. "But she will be okay?" I ask, frowning. "Yes, she will. Come on, you can both go see her." At the first sight of our daughter, lying in the clear crib, sound asleep, I instantly fall in love with her. A full head of blonde hair, long dark lashes, and the tiniest set of fingers and toes I've ever seen. She's perfect. Scorp lets us hold her hand through the circle holes in the crib. That has to be enough for today. We stay with her for hours. Bones heads home to sleep, and he will swap with me tomorrow morning. "She's the most adorable baby," the nurse says as she steps into the room. "Sorry to interrupt, I'm Isla. I'll be her night-shift nurse tonight." Her dark, thick hair is tied at her nape, big chocolate-brown doe eyes highlight her face, and even her scrubs can't hide her curvy body. "Skull," I reply. She's wearing glasses that I find really-fu-cking-adorable and hasn't checked me out even once. Isla picks up my baby girl's chart and reads over it, smiling down at her. "I caught her with her eyes open yesterday. Big blue eyes." She turns to me and looks me in the eye for the first time. "Just like yours." I study her for a few moments, but don't say anything in return. She goes about her business and then turns back to me. "You want me to get you anything. A coffee?" I'd love a coffee, but I shake my head. She must have seen just how much I wanted one on my face, because a few minutes later, she comes back and hands me one anyway. "I didn't know what you like so I guessed." I bring the cup to my lips. Black. One sugar. Just how I like it. "Thank you." "You're welcome, Daddy," she replies, flashing me an easy, amused smile, and then leaves once more. Daddy? Yeah, now is not the time, Skull. Little did I know how this one interaction with her would send me down a fu-cking rabbit hole. ISLA Clipboard in hand, I wince when I remember what I said to the hottest man I've ever seen in my life. Shoulder-length blond hair, intelligent crystal blue eyes, bluer than I've ever seen, framed in thick dark lashes, and tanned skin. Even sitting down, I can tell that he's tall and built. His biceps are straining against his white V-neck T-shirt, while his broad shoulders are the perfect perch for a woman to sit on. And I called him Daddy. To his face. Fu-ck my life. I knew I shouldn't have listened to all those BDSM audiobooks this month. He's here with his daughter, Isla. Shut it down and be professional. It's been a few days since that night, so hopefully he's forgotten all about our initial meeting. First impressions don't matter that much, right? I've never dated a patient, and I don't intend on breaking that rule now. Plus, a man who looks like that? Trouble. He's way out of my league. Definitely younger than me. A he-ll of a lot more attractive and fitter than me. Oh, and he just had a baby. I saw the note that said the mother had left the hospital without a backward glance, and he's the one raising the baby alone. I don't know how a woman could do that, but I'm here to help, not judge. And just because the baby's mother left, doesn't mean he's single. "Hello, how's the little angel today?" I say to him as I step into the room. He lifts his head and smiles. "She's good. I was wondering when I was going to see you again," he rasps, running a hand through his hair. "And why is that?" I ask, keeping my voice even. He smirks, but says nothing. He just studies me with that intelligent gaze before returning his attention to his daughter. I read the doctor's notes and smile. "I see Dr. James came in to see you both. Do you want to hold her?" I ask, and he lifts those blue eyes to mine as he nods. "Skin-to-skin contact is so important," I murmur, washing and drying my hands thoroughly. I clear my throat. "So if you want to remove your T-shirt, I can lay her on your chest." It's a normal suggestion I'd make, but it feels a little different this time. Without missing a beat, he stands to his full height. He's tall. I try to look away, I really do, but when he grips his T-shirt at his nape and reveals a smooth and ripped chest, indented abs, and a trail of blond hair pointing down the middle of his jeans, my mouth is suddenly dry. My pus-sy, not so much. If the other nurses see this, he's going to cause a riot. Some of them might come to work for free. When our eyes lock and hold, I don't miss the flicker of amusement there. He slowly sits back down, carefully lifting his daughter and resting her on his chest. He looks down at her, and the gentle look in his eyes makes me feel like I'm intruding on their moment. I cover them both with a warm blanket and keep myself busy, giving them their moment but not wanting to leave in case she needs anything. About thirty minutes later, he's still watching his baby girl so closely, like if he even blinks, she might disappear. He gently ki-sses the top of her head, and the sight melts my heart. I know how hard it is for parents to see their kids in the NICU, but his daughter is doing well. She'll be out of here and thriving in no time. He finally breaks the comfortable silence. "We still can't decide on a name for her." We. So there is another woman on the scene. "What do you have it narrowed down to?" I ask gently. "Natalia or Nyla." "Both beautiful names," I murmur, trying to picture which one would suit the adorable blonde hair, blue-eyed baby more. Natalia. I think she's a Natalia. I notice a book on the table next to him, a bookmark sitting halfway through it. Curiosity has me peering over to see what he's reading. I can make out the word emperor, but that's it. I find it incredibly se-xy that he reads, especially as a reader myself. I'm on my Kindle almost every night and have my audiobooks playing in the car on the way to and from work. "It's a good book," he comments, and when I look at him, I find his eyes already on me. "You can read it when I'm finished if you like." My lip twitches. "It doesn't look like my usual read." He grins, flashing straight white teeth. "Let me guess, you're a romance girl. No... dark romance." I laugh, sliding my pen out of my pocket and making a note on the chart. "I might enjoy a good fictional romance now and again." "Only fictional?" he asks, tilting his head to the side and studying me. Why does it feel like he can see right through me? Like if I lied about something, he would know. He's reading me, and I don't know if I like it. "That's the only place love like that exists," I mutter, and I know I sound cynical. But when you've been through what I have, you can't help but lose faith in dating and men in general. His daughter stirs, and I get some milk ready for her. When I hand him the bottle, our fingers touch. My eyes widen when he takes my hand and holds it. "I don't think that's true. Which name do you prefer?" I scan his face, trying to read him. "Natalia." Once he finally releases me, there's a reluctance on both our parts to move away from each other. When Dr. James steps in, I get the he-ll out of there. I don't need to be attracted to a man who goes by the name of Skull. Liz, one of my closest friends and also a nurse here, told me that he's a biker. She knows all the gossip. A biker. He's a walking, talking red flag of a bad boy book boyfriend. You know, one of those you love to read about but would be a total fu-cking disaster in real life? So what if he's the most beautifully masculine man I've ever seen in real life? So what if his muscles look like they've been sculptured by the gods themselves? Instalove is not one of my favorite tropes.
Right there—in our bed—my biker was buried in some club bimbo. Me? Just a prey for his hunting game. Frozen in the doorway, I watched a pretty curly-haired brunette was draped over my biker Skull's lap, her pouty lips swallowing down his co-ck. "Your fu-cking perfect mouth, Rose." Skull rasped, fu-cking her deeper before pulling out, and making her a whining sound. The sight in front of me sucked the air out of my lungs, making it hard for me to stand still with my shivering legs. Rose moaned around his co-ck, teasing, a lazy smirk playing on her ki-ss-swollen lips. "How about the girl you've been chasing these days? Let her join us. I promise I know how to share." Skull laughed—a low, cruel sound that made my blood curdle. "Isla? Just a baby nurse. A next target. I'll fu-ck her, get her out of my system, and toss her aside. Soon." Tears burned behind my eyes, hot and sharp, as those two labels echoed over and over in my head: Baby nurse. Target. I'd been so stupid to think I was his only woman, that I was special—but I was no different from a club girl. —— SKULL Tangling her dark curls in my fist, I watch her pouty lips swallow down my co-ck. I'm standing at the edge of the bed while my identical twin, Bones, fu-cks Rose, one of the club girls, from behind. "Fu-ck, you always take us so well," he grits out, slapping her as-s hard. The sound echoes through the room. "You like having two big co-cks to play with, don't you? Show Skull just how good that mouth is." She moans around my co-ck, which sends a tingle down my spine. She knows what she's doing. We've fu-cked Rose plenty of times, always together. She's up for anything, and that's why she's one of the favorites here at Serpents of Chaos MC. She's been with all of the brothers at one time or another, but she hasn't started any sh-it with any of the old ladies, so she gets extra points for that. She knows the score, and we won't have to worry about her trying to get clingy with us tomorrow. "That fu-cking mouth," I rasp, fu-cking her deeper before pulling out. She makes a whining sound, wanting it back. Bones starts to fu-ck her harder, then pulls out and spins her around. We know what the other is thinking and what the other wants, and we work together like a well-oiled machine. This isn't our first rodeo, and the women we share never leave unsatisfied. I slide on a con-dom and start to fu-ck her pus-sy while Bones gets her mouth. She moans around his di-ck, loving every second of what she's getting. "What do you think, brother? Should we let her come again?" Bones rasps, gripping her hair and fu-cking her face. I reach between us and start stroking her cl-it. "Yeah, we can't let her leave here without coming at least six times. What do you think?" "I'm going to come in her mouth, and she's going to swallow every drop down like the good little who-re she is," he orders, looking down at her. "Aren't you, Rose?" She nods around him, then starts to scream as she comes all over my co-ck. "Fu-ck," I grunt as I follow her, gripping her as-s cheeks so hard I know she's going to have bruises tomorrow. Bones finishes with us. "Open your mouth and show me," he growls, and she does as she's told. "Good girl," he praises, letting go of her hair and lying down on the bed. "Stay here, Rose. We aren't done with you yet." She lies down between us, catching her breath. "Fu-ck, I came so hard that time." She sighs, closing her eyes. We let her sleep for an hour before waking her again. Still hungover from the celebrations the night before, I cover my eyes with my arm, trying to block the sunlight. My phone vibrates, and I feel like it isn't the first time. "Yeah," I bark, not checking to see who it is. "Skull, you and Bones need to get to the hospital right now," Scorp demands, and something in his tone has me sliding off my sheet and sitting up. "What is it?" I ask, standing. "Daisy showed up here last night and had the baby. She had left town but decided to come back to give birth." He pauses and takes a deep breath. My heart starts hammering in my chest. He can't be saying what I think he's saying, right? "I quickly ran the tests, and the baby is either yours or Bones." Fu-ck. No. We knew this was a slight possibility. We had both fu-cked Daisy. Yeah, we wore protection, but accidents happen. I guess it was twice as lucky that we were the father, since we both had her. What a fu-cking sh-it show. I quickly shower, get dressed, and head next door to my brother's room. Rose is still nak-ed in bed with him. We might have both fu-cked her last night, but while he allows sleepovers, I do not. "Bones, get up," I say, and his blue eyes, identical to my own, open. "What?" "Get dressed, we have to go to the hospital. Scorp called." His brows knit as he tries to process my words while he's still half asleep. He quickly gets up and stands in front of me. "Who's hurt?" "It's Daisy," I say, swallowing hard. "The baby. It's ours." He makes a choking sound, mixed with laughter that lacks his usual humor. "Stop messing around." "I'm not," I say quietly. We share a look. "Fu-ck," he grunts, stalking toward the bathroom with his hands behind his neck. Neither of us is father material. The first baby we ever held was Zade, Ora's son, and that was just last week. It's the blind fu-cking leading the blind here, and the child's mother is a club girl. What life is this baby going to have? While Bones gets ready, I pull out my phone and search the internet for what newborns need. Apparently, a lot. I'm going to need Ora's help with this one. On our way to our bikes, I turn to Bones. "Should we bring something?" At the same time, he says, "We should bring something, right?" One mind. "What though? I don't know what a baby needs." I nod in agreement. "Let's go check out the situation, and then we can go buy everything." I pause. "Should we bring Daisy flowers or something? She did just push out our baby." A muscle works in his jaw. "Yeah, all right. We can get something in the hospital gift shop." We take care of what's ours. It doesn't matter who the baby actually belongs to. He or she is ours. It's as simple and as complicated as that. When we step into the hospital, we find Scorp waiting for us at reception. My eyes drop to the tag that reads 'Dr. James.' The concerned look on his face doesn't bode well for us. He looks away from the paperwork in his hands, his green eyes darting from one of us to the other. "I don't know how to say this." "Just tell us," I demand quietly. He rubs the back of his neck. "Daisy left. She had the baby, and she left." I share a look with Bones. "What do you mean she fu-cking left?" Bones snarls, his jaw tightening. "Where the he-ll did she go?" "She left a note," Scorp says, handing it to us. I don't want this baby. Give it to her father. "Did she even know that we were the father?" I ask, trying to figure out why the fu-ck she has done something so heartless to an innocent child. "No," he admits, shaking his head. He lowers his tone. "She doesn't know I ran those tests. I still had the samples we took before she ran off. So I just tested your DNA with the baby's. It was a match. If you want, we can run more tests to find out which one of you is definitely the father." "No," we reply at the same time. "I thought as much." He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, his muscles straining against his fancy white doctor coat. "I think you should find out. You can both still raise her, but how is she going to call both of you dad? Think about it." She? We have a daughter. A little girl. Why am I more terrified than I was before? "We have a little girl?" Bones mutters, shaking his head like he's clearing his thoughts. "I'm going to need more guns." "There's more. Your daughter is in the NICU because she was born underweight. She's only a tiny little thing, and she needs some feeding and breathing support. We want to watch over her for a few more days to be safe," he explains, and my heart starts racing with pure fear. "But she will be okay?" I ask, frowning. "Yes, she will. Come on, you can both go see her." At the first sight of our daughter, lying in the clear crib, sound asleep, I instantly fall in love with her. A full head of blonde hair, long dark lashes, and the tiniest set of fingers and toes I've ever seen. She's perfect. Scorp lets us hold her hand through the circle holes in the crib. That has to be enough for today. We stay with her for hours. Bones heads home to sleep, and he will swap with me tomorrow morning. "She's the most adorable baby," the nurse says as she steps into the room. "Sorry to interrupt, I'm Isla. I'll be her night-shift nurse tonight." Her dark, thick hair is tied at her nape, big chocolate-brown doe eyes highlight her face, and even her scrubs can't hide her curvy body. "Skull," I reply. She's wearing glasses that I find really-fu-cking-adorable and hasn't checked me out even once. Isla picks up my baby girl's chart and reads over it, smiling down at her. "I caught her with her eyes open yesterday. Big blue eyes." She turns to me and looks me in the eye for the first time. "Just like yours." I study her for a few moments, but don't say anything in return. She goes about her business and then turns back to me. "You want me to get you anything. A coffee?" I'd love a coffee, but I shake my head. She must have seen just how much I wanted one on my face, because a few minutes later, she comes back and hands me one anyway. "I didn't know what you like so I guessed." I bring the cup to my lips. Black. One sugar. Just how I like it. "Thank you." "You're welcome, Daddy," she replies, flashing me an easy, amused smile, and then leaves once more. Daddy? Yeah, now is not the time, Skull. Little did I know how this one interaction with her would send me down a fu-cking rabbit hole. ISLA Clipboard in hand, I wince when I remember what I said to the hottest man I've ever seen in my life. Shoulder-length blond hair, intelligent crystal blue eyes, bluer than I've ever seen, framed in thick dark lashes, and tanned skin. Even sitting down, I can tell that he's tall and built. His biceps are straining against his white V-neck T-shirt, while his broad shoulders are the perfect perch for a woman to sit on. And I called him Daddy. To his face. Fu-ck my life. I knew I shouldn't have listened to all those BDSM audiobooks this month. He's here with his daughter, Isla. Shut it down and be professional. It's been a few days since that night, so hopefully he's forgotten all about our initial meeting. First impressions don't matter that much, right? I've never dated a patient, and I don't intend on breaking that rule now. Plus, a man who looks like that? Trouble. He's way out of my league. Definitely younger than me. A he-ll of a lot more attractive and fitter than me. Oh, and he just had a baby. I saw the note that said the mother had left the hospital without a backward glance, and he's the one raising the baby alone. I don't know how a woman could do that, but I'm here to help, not judge. And just because the baby's mother left, doesn't mean he's single. "Hello, how's the little angel today?" I say to him as I step into the room. He lifts his head and smiles. "She's good. I was wondering when I was going to see you again," he rasps, running a hand through his hair. "And why is that?" I ask, keeping my voice even. He smirks, but says nothing. He just studies me with that intelligent gaze before returning his attention to his daughter. I read the doctor's notes and smile. "I see Dr. James came in to see you both. Do you want to hold her?" I ask, and he lifts those blue eyes to mine as he nods. "Skin-to-skin contact is so important," I murmur, washing and drying my hands thoroughly. I clear my throat. "So if you want to remove your T-shirt, I can lay her on your chest." It's a normal suggestion I'd make, but it feels a little different this time. Without missing a beat, he stands to his full height. He's tall. I try to look away, I really do, but when he grips his T-shirt at his nape and reveals a smooth and ripped chest, indented abs, and a trail of blond hair pointing down the middle of his jeans, my mouth is suddenly dry. My pus-sy, not so much. If the other nurses see this, he's going to cause a riot. Some of them might come to work for free. When our eyes lock and hold, I don't miss the flicker of amusement there. He slowly sits back down, carefully lifting his daughter and resting her on his chest. He looks down at her, and the gentle look in his eyes makes me feel like I'm intruding on their moment. I cover them both with a warm blanket and keep myself busy, giving them their moment but not wanting to leave in case she needs anything. About thirty minutes later, he's still watching his baby girl so closely, like if he even blinks, she might disappear. He gently ki-sses the top of her head, and the sight melts my heart. I know how hard it is for parents to see their kids in the NICU, but his daughter is doing well. She'll be out of here and thriving in no time. He finally breaks the comfortable silence. "We still can't decide on a name for her." We. So there is another woman on the scene. "What do you have it narrowed down to?" I ask gently. "Natalia or Nyla." "Both beautiful names," I murmur, trying to picture which one would suit the adorable blonde hair, blue-eyed baby more. Natalia. I think she's a Natalia. I notice a book on the table next to him, a bookmark sitting halfway through it. Curiosity has me peering over to see what he's reading. I can make out the word emperor, but that's it. I find it incredibly se-xy that he reads, especially as a reader myself. I'm on my Kindle almost every night and have my audiobooks playing in the car on the way to and from work. "It's a good book," he comments, and when I look at him, I find his eyes already on me. "You can read it when I'm finished if you like." My lip twitches. "It doesn't look like my usual read." He grins, flashing straight white teeth. "Let me guess, you're a romance girl. No... dark romance." I laugh, sliding my pen out of my pocket and making a note on the chart. "I might enjoy a good fictional romance now and again." "Only fictional?" he asks, tilting his head to the side and studying me. Why does it feel like he can see right through me? Like if I lied about something, he would know. He's reading me, and I don't know if I like it. "That's the only place love like that exists," I mutter, and I know I sound cynical. But when you've been through what I have, you can't help but lose faith in dating and men in general. His daughter stirs, and I get some milk ready for her. When I hand him the bottle, our fingers touch. My eyes widen when he takes my hand and holds it. "I don't think that's true. Which name do you prefer?" I scan his face, trying to read him. "Natalia." Once he finally releases me, there's a reluctance on both our parts to move away from each other. When Dr. James steps in, I get the he-ll out of there. I don't need to be attracted to a man who goes by the name of Skull. Liz, one of my closest friends and also a nurse here, told me that he's a biker. She knows all the gossip. A biker. He's a walking, talking red flag of a bad boy book boyfriend. You know, one of those you love to read about but would be a total fu-cking disaster in real life? So what if he's the most beautifully masculine man I've ever seen in real life? So what if his muscles look like they've been sculptured by the gods themselves? Instalove is not one of my favorite tropes.
Right there—in our bed—my biker was buried in some club bimbo. Me? Just a prey for his hunting game. Frozen in the doorway, I watched a pretty curly-haired brunette was draped over my biker Skull's lap, her pouty lips swallowing down his co-ck. "Your fu-cking perfect mouth, Rose." Skull rasped, fu-cking her deeper before pulling out, and making her a whining sound. The sight in front of me sucked the air out of my lungs, making it hard for me to stand still with my shivering legs. Rose moaned around his co-ck, teasing, a lazy smirk playing on her ki-ss-swollen lips. "How about the girl you've been chasing these days? Let her join us. I promise I know how to share." Skull laughed—a low, cruel sound that made my blood curdle. "Isla? Just a baby nurse. A next target. I'll fu-ck her, get her out of my system, and toss her aside. Soon." Tears burned behind my eyes, hot and sharp, as those two labels echoed over and over in my head: Baby nurse. Target. I'd been so stupid to think I was his only woman, that I was special—but I was no different from a club girl. —— SKULL Tangling her dark curls in my fist, I watch her pouty lips swallow down my co-ck. I'm standing at the edge of the bed while my identical twin, Bones, fu-cks Rose, one of the club girls, from behind. "Fu-ck, you always take us so well," he grits out, slapping her as-s hard. The sound echoes through the room. "You like having two big co-cks to play with, don't you? Show Skull just how good that mouth is." She moans around my co-ck, which sends a tingle down my spine. She knows what she's doing. We've fu-cked Rose plenty of times, always together. She's up for anything, and that's why she's one of the favorites here at Serpents of Chaos MC. She's been with all of the brothers at one time or another, but she hasn't started any sh-it with any of the old ladies, so she gets extra points for that. She knows the score, and we won't have to worry about her trying to get clingy with us tomorrow. "That fu-cking mouth," I rasp, fu-cking her deeper before pulling out. She makes a whining sound, wanting it back. Bones starts to fu-ck her harder, then pulls out and spins her around. We know what the other is thinking and what the other wants, and we work together like a well-oiled machine. This isn't our first rodeo, and the women we share never leave unsatisfied. I slide on a con-dom and start to fu-ck her pus-sy while Bones gets her mouth. She moans around his di-ck, loving every second of what she's getting. "What do you think, brother? Should we let her come again?" Bones rasps, gripping her hair and fu-cking her face. I reach between us and start stroking her cl-it. "Yeah, we can't let her leave here without coming at least six times. What do you think?" "I'm going to come in her mouth, and she's going to swallow every drop down like the good little who-re she is," he orders, looking down at her. "Aren't you, Rose?" She nods around him, then starts to scream as she comes all over my co-ck. "Fu-ck," I grunt as I follow her, gripping her as-s cheeks so hard I know she's going to have bruises tomorrow. Bones finishes with us. "Open your mouth and show me," he growls, and she does as she's told. "Good girl," he praises, letting go of her hair and lying down on the bed. "Stay here, Rose. We aren't done with you yet." She lies down between us, catching her breath. "Fu-ck, I came so hard that time." She sighs, closing her eyes. We let her sleep for an hour before waking her again. Still hungover from the celebrations the night before, I cover my eyes with my arm, trying to block the sunlight. My phone vibrates, and I feel like it isn't the first time. "Yeah," I bark, not checking to see who it is. "Skull, you and Bones need to get to the hospital right now," Scorp demands, and something in his tone has me sliding off my sheet and sitting up. "What is it?" I ask, standing. "Daisy showed up here last night and had the baby. She had left town but decided to come back to give birth." He pauses and takes a deep breath. My heart starts hammering in my chest. He can't be saying what I think he's saying, right? "I quickly ran the tests, and the baby is either yours or Bones." Fu-ck. No. We knew this was a slight possibility. We had both fu-cked Daisy. Yeah, we wore protection, but accidents happen. I guess it was twice as lucky that we were the father, since we both had her. What a fu-cking sh-it show. I quickly shower, get dressed, and head next door to my brother's room. Rose is still nak-ed in bed with him. We might have both fu-cked her last night, but while he allows sleepovers, I do not. "Bones, get up," I say, and his blue eyes, identical to my own, open. "What?" "Get dressed, we have to go to the hospital. Scorp called." His brows knit as he tries to process my words while he's still half asleep. He quickly gets up and stands in front of me. "Who's hurt?" "It's Daisy," I say, swallowing hard. "The baby. It's ours." He makes a choking sound, mixed with laughter that lacks his usual humor. "Stop messing around." "I'm not," I say quietly. We share a look. "Fu-ck," he grunts, stalking toward the bathroom with his hands behind his neck. Neither of us is father material. The first baby we ever held was Zade, Ora's son, and that was just last week. It's the blind fu-cking leading the blind here, and the child's mother is a club girl. What life is this baby going to have? While Bones gets ready, I pull out my phone and search the internet for what newborns need. Apparently, a lot. I'm going to need Ora's help with this one. On our way to our bikes, I turn to Bones. "Should we bring something?" At the same time, he says, "We should bring something, right?" One mind. "What though? I don't know what a baby needs." I nod in agreement. "Let's go check out the situation, and then we can go buy everything." I pause. "Should we bring Daisy flowers or something? She did just push out our baby." A muscle works in his jaw. "Yeah, all right. We can get something in the hospital gift shop." We take care of what's ours. It doesn't matter who the baby actually belongs to. He or she is ours. It's as simple and as complicated as that. When we step into the hospital, we find Scorp waiting for us at reception. My eyes drop to the tag that reads 'Dr. James.' The concerned look on his face doesn't bode well for us. He looks away from the paperwork in his hands, his green eyes darting from one of us to the other. "I don't know how to say this." "Just tell us," I demand quietly. He rubs the back of his neck. "Daisy left. She had the baby, and she left." I share a look with Bones. "What do you mean she fu-cking left?" Bones snarls, his jaw tightening. "Where the he-ll did she go?" "She left a note," Scorp says, handing it to us. I don't want this baby. Give it to her father. "Did she even know that we were the father?" I ask, trying to figure out why the fu-ck she has done something so heartless to an innocent child. "No," he admits, shaking his head. He lowers his tone. "She doesn't know I ran those tests. I still had the samples we took before she ran off. So I just tested your DNA with the baby's. It was a match. If you want, we can run more tests to find out which one of you is definitely the father." "No," we reply at the same time. "I thought as much." He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, his muscles straining against his fancy white doctor coat. "I think you should find out. You can both still raise her, but how is she going to call both of you dad? Think about it." She? We have a daughter. A little girl. Why am I more terrified than I was before? "We have a little girl?" Bones mutters, shaking his head like he's clearing his thoughts. "I'm going to need more guns." "There's more. Your daughter is in the NICU because she was born underweight. She's only a tiny little thing, and she needs some feeding and breathing support. We want to watch over her for a few more days to be safe," he explains, and my heart starts racing with pure fear. "But she will be okay?" I ask, frowning. "Yes, she will. Come on, you can both go see her." At the first sight of our daughter, lying in the clear crib, sound asleep, I instantly fall in love with her. A full head of blonde hair, long dark lashes, and the tiniest set of fingers and toes I've ever seen. She's perfect. Scorp lets us hold her hand through the circle holes in the crib. That has to be enough for today. We stay with her for hours. Bones heads home to sleep, and he will swap with me tomorrow morning. "She's the most adorable baby," the nurse says as she steps into the room. "Sorry to interrupt, I'm Isla. I'll be her night-shift nurse tonight." Her dark, thick hair is tied at her nape, big chocolate-brown doe eyes highlight her face, and even her scrubs can't hide her curvy body. "Skull," I reply. She's wearing glasses that I find really-fu-cking-adorable and hasn't checked me out even once. Isla picks up my baby girl's chart and reads over it, smiling down at her. "I caught her with her eyes open yesterday. Big blue eyes." She turns to me and looks me in the eye for the first time. "Just like yours." I study her for a few moments, but don't say anything in return. She goes about her business and then turns back to me. "You want me to get you anything. A coffee?" I'd love a coffee, but I shake my head. She must have seen just how much I wanted one on my face, because a few minutes later, she comes back and hands me one anyway. "I didn't know what you like so I guessed." I bring the cup to my lips. Black. One sugar. Just how I like it. "Thank you." "You're welcome, Daddy," she replies, flashing me an easy, amused smile, and then leaves once more. Daddy? Yeah, now is not the time, Skull. Little did I know how this one interaction with her would send me down a fu-cking rabbit hole. ISLA Clipboard in hand, I wince when I remember what I said to the hottest man I've ever seen in my life. Shoulder-length blond hair, intelligent crystal blue eyes, bluer than I've ever seen, framed in thick dark lashes, and tanned skin. Even sitting down, I can tell that he's tall and built. His biceps are straining against his white V-neck T-shirt, while his broad shoulders are the perfect perch for a woman to sit on. And I called him Daddy. To his face. Fu-ck my life. I knew I shouldn't have listened to all those BDSM audiobooks this month. He's here with his daughter, Isla. Shut it down and be professional. It's been a few days since that night, so hopefully he's forgotten all about our initial meeting. First impressions don't matter that much, right? I've never dated a patient, and I don't intend on breaking that rule now. Plus, a man who looks like that? Trouble. He's way out of my league. Definitely younger than me. A he-ll of a lot more attractive and fitter than me. Oh, and he just had a baby. I saw the note that said the mother had left the hospital without a backward glance, and he's the one raising the baby alone. I don't know how a woman could do that, but I'm here to help, not judge. And just because the baby's mother left, doesn't mean he's single. "Hello, how's the little angel today?" I say to him as I step into the room. He lifts his head and smiles. "She's good. I was wondering when I was going to see you again," he rasps, running a hand through his hair. "And why is that?" I ask, keeping my voice even. He smirks, but says nothing. He just studies me with that intelligent gaze before returning his attention to his daughter. I read the doctor's notes and smile. "I see Dr. James came in to see you both. Do you want to hold her?" I ask, and he lifts those blue eyes to mine as he nods. "Skin-to-skin contact is so important," I murmur, washing and drying my hands thoroughly. I clear my throat. "So if you want to remove your T-shirt, I can lay her on your chest." It's a normal suggestion I'd make, but it feels a little different this time. Without missing a beat, he stands to his full height. He's tall. I try to look away, I really do, but when he grips his T-shirt at his nape and reveals a smooth and ripped chest, indented abs, and a trail of blond hair pointing down the middle of his jeans, my mouth is suddenly dry. My pus-sy, not so much. If the other nurses see this, he's going to cause a riot. Some of them might come to work for free. When our eyes lock and hold, I don't miss the flicker of amusement there. He slowly sits back down, carefully lifting his daughter and resting her on his chest. He looks down at her, and the gentle look in his eyes makes me feel like I'm intruding on their moment. I cover them both with a warm blanket and keep myself busy, giving them their moment but not wanting to leave in case she needs anything. About thirty minutes later, he's still watching his baby girl so closely, like if he even blinks, she might disappear. He gently ki-sses the top of her head, and the sight melts my heart. I know how hard it is for parents to see their kids in the NICU, but his daughter is doing well. She'll be out of here and thriving in no time. He finally breaks the comfortable silence. "We still can't decide on a name for her." We. So there is another woman on the scene. "What do you have it narrowed down to?" I ask gently. "Natalia or Nyla." "Both beautiful names," I murmur, trying to picture which one would suit the adorable blonde hair, blue-eyed baby more. Natalia. I think she's a Natalia. I notice a book on the table next to him, a bookmark sitting halfway through it. Curiosity has me peering over to see what he's reading. I can make out the word emperor, but that's it. I find it incredibly se-xy that he reads, especially as a reader myself. I'm on my Kindle almost every night and have my audiobooks playing in the car on the way to and from work. "It's a good book," he comments, and when I look at him, I find his eyes already on me. "You can read it when I'm finished if you like." My lip twitches. "It doesn't look like my usual read." He grins, flashing straight white teeth. "Let me guess, you're a romance girl. No... dark romance." I laugh, sliding my pen out of my pocket and making a note on the chart. "I might enjoy a good fictional romance now and again." "Only fictional?" he asks, tilting his head to the side and studying me. Why does it feel like he can see right through me? Like if I lied about something, he would know. He's reading me, and I don't know if I like it. "That's the only place love like that exists," I mutter, and I know I sound cynical. But when you've been through what I have, you can't help but lose faith in dating and men in general. His daughter stirs, and I get some milk ready for her. When I hand him the bottle, our fingers touch. My eyes widen when he takes my hand and holds it. "I don't think that's true. Which name do you prefer?" I scan his face, trying to read him. "Natalia." Once he finally releases me, there's a reluctance on both our parts to move away from each other. When Dr. James steps in, I get the he-ll out of there. I don't need to be attracted to a man who goes by the name of Skull. Liz, one of my closest friends and also a nurse here, told me that he's a biker. She knows all the gossip. A biker. He's a walking, talking red flag of a bad boy book boyfriend. You know, one of those you love to read about but would be a total fu-cking disaster in real life? So what if he's the most beautifully masculine man I've ever seen in real life? So what if his muscles look like they've been sculptured by the gods themselves? Instalove is not one of my favorite tropes.
Right there—in our bed—my biker was buried in some club bimbo. Me? Just a prey for his hunting game. Frozen in the doorway, I watched a pretty curly-haired brunette was draped over my biker Skull's lap, her pouty lips swallowing down his co-ck. "Your fu-cking perfect mouth, Rose." Skull rasped, fu-cking her deeper before pulling out, and making her a whining sound. The sight in front of me sucked the air out of my lungs, making it hard for me to stand still with my shivering legs. Rose moaned around his co-ck, teasing, a lazy smirk playing on her ki-ss-swollen lips. "How about the girl you've been chasing these days? Let her join us. I promise I know how to share." Skull laughed—a low, cruel sound that made my blood curdle. "Isla? Just a baby nurse. A next target. I'll fu-ck her, get her out of my system, and toss her aside. Soon." Tears burned behind my eyes, hot and sharp, as those two labels echoed over and over in my head: Baby nurse. Target. I'd been so stupid to think I was his only woman, that I was special—but I was no different from a club girl. —— SKULL Tangling her dark curls in my fist, I watch her pouty lips swallow down my co-ck. I'm standing at the edge of the bed while my identical twin, Bones, fu-cks Rose, one of the club girls, from behind. "Fu-ck, you always take us so well," he grits out, slapping her as-s hard. The sound echoes through the room. "You like having two big co-cks to play with, don't you? Show Skull just how good that mouth is." She moans around my co-ck, which sends a tingle down my spine. She knows what she's doing. We've fu-cked Rose plenty of times, always together. She's up for anything, and that's why she's one of the favorites here at Serpents of Chaos MC. She's been with all of the brothers at one time or another, but she hasn't started any sh-it with any of the old ladies, so she gets extra points for that. She knows the score, and we won't have to worry about her trying to get clingy with us tomorrow. "That fu-cking mouth," I rasp, fu-cking her deeper before pulling out. She makes a whining sound, wanting it back. Bones starts to fu-ck her harder, then pulls out and spins her around. We know what the other is thinking and what the other wants, and we work together like a well-oiled machine. This isn't our first rodeo, and the women we share never leave unsatisfied. I slide on a con-dom and start to fu-ck her pus-sy while Bones gets her mouth. She moans around his di-ck, loving every second of what she's getting. "What do you think, brother? Should we let her come again?" Bones rasps, gripping her hair and fu-cking her face. I reach between us and start stroking her cl-it. "Yeah, we can't let her leave here without coming at least six times. What do you think?" "I'm going to come in her mouth, and she's going to swallow every drop down like the good little who-re she is," he orders, looking down at her. "Aren't you, Rose?" She nods around him, then starts to scream as she comes all over my co-ck. "Fu-ck," I grunt as I follow her, gripping her as-s cheeks so hard I know she's going to have bruises tomorrow. Bones finishes with us. "Open your mouth and show me," he growls, and she does as she's told. "Good girl," he praises, letting go of her hair and lying down on the bed. "Stay here, Rose. We aren't done with you yet." She lies down between us, catching her breath. "Fu-ck, I came so hard that time." She sighs, closing her eyes. We let her sleep for an hour before waking her again. Still hungover from the celebrations the night before, I cover my eyes with my arm, trying to block the sunlight. My phone vibrates, and I feel like it isn't the first time. "Yeah," I bark, not checking to see who it is. "Skull, you and Bones need to get to the hospital right now," Scorp demands, and something in his tone has me sliding off my sheet and sitting up. "What is it?" I ask, standing. "Daisy showed up here last night and had the baby. She had left town but decided to come back to give birth." He pauses and takes a deep breath. My heart starts hammering in my chest. He can't be saying what I think he's saying, right? "I quickly ran the tests, and the baby is either yours or Bones." Fu-ck. No. We knew this was a slight possibility. We had both fu-cked Daisy. Yeah, we wore protection, but accidents happen. I guess it was twice as lucky that we were the father, since we both had her. What a fu-cking sh-it show. I quickly shower, get dressed, and head next door to my brother's room. Rose is still nak-ed in bed with him. We might have both fu-cked her last night, but while he allows sleepovers, I do not. "Bones, get up," I say, and his blue eyes, identical to my own, open. "What?" "Get dressed, we have to go to the hospital. Scorp called." His brows knit as he tries to process my words while he's still half asleep. He quickly gets up and stands in front of me. "Who's hurt?" "It's Daisy," I say, swallowing hard. "The baby. It's ours." He makes a choking sound, mixed with laughter that lacks his usual humor. "Stop messing around." "I'm not," I say quietly. We share a look. "Fu-ck," he grunts, stalking toward the bathroom with his hands behind his neck. Neither of us is father material. The first baby we ever held was Zade, Ora's son, and that was just last week. It's the blind fu-cking leading the blind here, and the child's mother is a club girl. What life is this baby going to have? While Bones gets ready, I pull out my phone and search the internet for what newborns need. Apparently, a lot. I'm going to need Ora's help with this one. On our way to our bikes, I turn to Bones. "Should we bring something?" At the same time, he says, "We should bring something, right?" One mind. "What though? I don't know what a baby needs." I nod in agreement. "Let's go check out the situation, and then we can go buy everything." I pause. "Should we bring Daisy flowers or something? She did just push out our baby." A muscle works in his jaw. "Yeah, all right. We can get something in the hospital gift shop." We take care of what's ours. It doesn't matter who the baby actually belongs to. He or she is ours. It's as simple and as complicated as that. When we step into the hospital, we find Scorp waiting for us at reception. My eyes drop to the tag that reads 'Dr. James.' The concerned look on his face doesn't bode well for us. He looks away from the paperwork in his hands, his green eyes darting from one of us to the other. "I don't know how to say this." "Just tell us," I demand quietly. He rubs the back of his neck. "Daisy left. She had the baby, and she left." I share a look with Bones. "What do you mean she fu-cking left?" Bones snarls, his jaw tightening. "Where the he-ll did she go?" "She left a note," Scorp says, handing it to us. I don't want this baby. Give it to her father. "Did she even know that we were the father?" I ask, trying to figure out why the fu-ck she has done something so heartless to an innocent child. "No," he admits, shaking his head. He lowers his tone. "She doesn't know I ran those tests. I still had the samples we took before she ran off. So I just tested your DNA with the baby's. It was a match. If you want, we can run more tests to find out which one of you is definitely the father." "No," we reply at the same time. "I thought as much." He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, his muscles straining against his fancy white doctor coat. "I think you should find out. You can both still raise her, but how is she going to call both of you dad? Think about it." She? We have a daughter. A little girl. Why am I more terrified than I was before? "We have a little girl?" Bones mutters, shaking his head like he's clearing his thoughts. "I'm going to need more guns." "There's more. Your daughter is in the NICU because she was born underweight. She's only a tiny little thing, and she needs some feeding and breathing support. We want to watch over her for a few more days to be safe," he explains, and my heart starts racing with pure fear. "But she will be okay?" I ask, frowning. "Yes, she will. Come on, you can both go see her." At the first sight of our daughter, lying in the clear crib, sound asleep, I instantly fall in love with her. A full head of blonde hair, long dark lashes, and the tiniest set of fingers and toes I've ever seen. She's perfect. Scorp lets us hold her hand through the circle holes in the crib. That has to be enough for today. We stay with her for hours. Bones heads home to sleep, and he will swap with me tomorrow morning. "She's the most adorable baby," the nurse says as she steps into the room. "Sorry to interrupt, I'm Isla. I'll be her night-shift nurse tonight." Her dark, thick hair is tied at her nape, big chocolate-brown doe eyes highlight her face, and even her scrubs can't hide her curvy body. "Skull," I reply. She's wearing glasses that I find really-fu-cking-adorable and hasn't checked me out even once. Isla picks up my baby girl's chart and reads over it, smiling down at her. "I caught her with her eyes open yesterday. Big blue eyes." She turns to me and looks me in the eye for the first time. "Just like yours." I study her for a few moments, but don't say anything in return. She goes about her business and then turns back to me. "You want me to get you anything. A coffee?" I'd love a coffee, but I shake my head. She must have seen just how much I wanted one on my face, because a few minutes later, she comes back and hands me one anyway. "I didn't know what you like so I guessed." I bring the cup to my lips. Black. One sugar. Just how I like it. "Thank you." "You're welcome, Daddy," she replies, flashing me an easy, amused smile, and then leaves once more. Daddy? Yeah, now is not the time, Skull. Little did I know how this one interaction with her would send me down a fu-cking rabbit hole. ISLA Clipboard in hand, I wince when I remember what I said to the hottest man I've ever seen in my life. Shoulder-length blond hair, intelligent crystal blue eyes, bluer than I've ever seen, framed in thick dark lashes, and tanned skin. Even sitting down, I can tell that he's tall and built. His biceps are straining against his white V-neck T-shirt, while his broad shoulders are the perfect perch for a woman to sit on. And I called him Daddy. To his face. Fu-ck my life. I knew I shouldn't have listened to all those BDSM audiobooks this month. He's here with his daughter, Isla. Shut it down and be professional. It's been a few days since that night, so hopefully he's forgotten all about our initial meeting. First impressions don't matter that much, right? I've never dated a patient, and I don't intend on breaking that rule now. Plus, a man who looks like that? Trouble. He's way out of my league. Definitely younger than me. A he-ll of a lot more attractive and fitter than me. Oh, and he just had a baby. I saw the note that said the mother had left the hospital without a backward glance, and he's the one raising the baby alone. I don't know how a woman could do that, but I'm here to help, not judge. And just because the baby's mother left, doesn't mean he's single. "Hello, how's the little angel today?" I say to him as I step into the room. He lifts his head and smiles. "She's good. I was wondering when I was going to see you again," he rasps, running a hand through his hair. "And why is that?" I ask, keeping my voice even. He smirks, but says nothing. He just studies me with that intelligent gaze before returning his attention to his daughter. I read the doctor's notes and smile. "I see Dr. James came in to see you both. Do you want to hold her?" I ask, and he lifts those blue eyes to mine as he nods. "Skin-to-skin contact is so important," I murmur, washing and drying my hands thoroughly. I clear my throat. "So if you want to remove your T-shirt, I can lay her on your chest." It's a normal suggestion I'd make, but it feels a little different this time. Without missing a beat, he stands to his full height. He's tall. I try to look away, I really do, but when he grips his T-shirt at his nape and reveals a smooth and ripped chest, indented abs, and a trail of blond hair pointing down the middle of his jeans, my mouth is suddenly dry. My pus-sy, not so much. If the other nurses see this, he's going to cause a riot. Some of them might come to work for free. When our eyes lock and hold, I don't miss the flicker of amusement there. He slowly sits back down, carefully lifting his daughter and resting her on his chest. He looks down at her, and the gentle look in his eyes makes me feel like I'm intruding on their moment. I cover them both with a warm blanket and keep myself busy, giving them their moment but not wanting to leave in case she needs anything. About thirty minutes later, he's still watching his baby girl so closely, like if he even blinks, she might disappear. He gently ki-sses the top of her head, and the sight melts my heart. I know how hard it is for parents to see their kids in the NICU, but his daughter is doing well. She'll be out of here and thriving in no time. He finally breaks the comfortable silence. "We still can't decide on a name for her." We. So there is another woman on the scene. "What do you have it narrowed down to?" I ask gently. "Natalia or Nyla." "Both beautiful names," I murmur, trying to picture which one would suit the adorable blonde hair, blue-eyed baby more. Natalia. I think she's a Natalia. I notice a book on the table next to him, a bookmark sitting halfway through it. Curiosity has me peering over to see what he's reading. I can make out the word emperor, but that's it. I find it incredibly se-xy that he reads, especially as a reader myself. I'm on my Kindle almost every night and have my audiobooks playing in the car on the way to and from work. "It's a good book," he comments, and when I look at him, I find his eyes already on me. "You can read it when I'm finished if you like." My lip twitches. "It doesn't look like my usual read." He grins, flashing straight white teeth. "Let me guess, you're a romance girl. No... dark romance." I laugh, sliding my pen out of my pocket and making a note on the chart. "I might enjoy a good fictional romance now and again." "Only fictional?" he asks, tilting his head to the side and studying me. Why does it feel like he can see right through me? Like if I lied about something, he would know. He's reading me, and I don't know if I like it. "That's the only place love like that exists," I mutter, and I know I sound cynical. But when you've been through what I have, you can't help but lose faith in dating and men in general. His daughter stirs, and I get some milk ready for her. When I hand him the bottle, our fingers touch. My eyes widen when he takes my hand and holds it. "I don't think that's true. Which name do you prefer?" I scan his face, trying to read him. "Natalia." Once he finally releases me, there's a reluctance on both our parts to move away from each other. When Dr. James steps in, I get the he-ll out of there. I don't need to be attracted to a man who goes by the name of Skull. Liz, one of my closest friends and also a nurse here, told me that he's a biker. She knows all the gossip. A biker. He's a walking, talking red flag of a bad boy book boyfriend. You know, one of those you love to read about but would be a total fu-cking disaster in real life? So what if he's the most beautifully masculine man I've ever seen in real life? So what if his muscles look like they've been sculptured by the gods themselves? Instalove is not one of my favorite tropes.
Right there—in our bed—my biker was buried in some club bimbo. Me? Just a prey for his hunting game. Frozen in the doorway, I watched a pretty curly-haired brunette was draped over my biker Skull's lap, her pouty lips swallowing down his co-ck. "Your fu-cking perfect mouth, Rose." Skull rasped, fu-cking her deeper before pulling out, and making her a whining sound. The sight in front of me sucked the air out of my lungs, making it hard for me to stand still with my shivering legs. Rose moaned around his co-ck, teasing, a lazy smirk playing on her ki-ss-swollen lips. "How about the girl you've been chasing these days? Let her join us. I promise I know how to share." Skull laughed—a low, cruel sound that made my blood curdle. "Isla? Just a baby nurse. A next target. I'll fu-ck her, get her out of my system, and toss her aside. Soon." Tears burned behind my eyes, hot and sharp, as those two labels echoed over and over in my head: Baby nurse. Target. I'd been so stupid to think I was his only woman, that I was special—but I was no different from a club girl. —— SKULL Tangling her dark curls in my fist, I watch her pouty lips swallow down my co-ck. I'm standing at the edge of the bed while my identical twin, Bones, fu-cks Rose, one of the club girls, from behind. "Fu-ck, you always take us so well," he grits out, slapping her as-s hard. The sound echoes through the room. "You like having two big co-cks to play with, don't you? Show Skull just how good that mouth is." She moans around my co-ck, which sends a tingle down my spine. She knows what she's doing. We've fu-cked Rose plenty of times, always together. She's up for anything, and that's why she's one of the favorites here at Serpents of Chaos MC. She's been with all of the brothers at one time or another, but she hasn't started any sh-it with any of the old ladies, so she gets extra points for that. She knows the score, and we won't have to worry about her trying to get clingy with us tomorrow. "That fu-cking mouth," I rasp, fu-cking her deeper before pulling out. She makes a whining sound, wanting it back. Bones starts to fu-ck her harder, then pulls out and spins her around. We know what the other is thinking and what the other wants, and we work together like a well-oiled machine. This isn't our first rodeo, and the women we share never leave unsatisfied. I slide on a con-dom and start to fu-ck her pus-sy while Bones gets her mouth. She moans around his di-ck, loving every second of what she's getting. "What do you think, brother? Should we let her come again?" Bones rasps, gripping her hair and fu-cking her face. I reach between us and start stroking her cl-it. "Yeah, we can't let her leave here without coming at least six times. What do you think?" "I'm going to come in her mouth, and she's going to swallow every drop down like the good little who-re she is," he orders, looking down at her. "Aren't you, Rose?" She nods around him, then starts to scream as she comes all over my co-ck. "Fu-ck," I grunt as I follow her, gripping her as-s cheeks so hard I know she's going to have bruises tomorrow. Bones finishes with us. "Open your mouth and show me," he growls, and she does as she's told. "Good girl," he praises, letting go of her hair and lying down on the bed. "Stay here, Rose. We aren't done with you yet." She lies down between us, catching her breath. "Fu-ck, I came so hard that time." She sighs, closing her eyes. We let her sleep for an hour before waking her again. Still hungover from the celebrations the night before, I cover my eyes with my arm, trying to block the sunlight. My phone vibrates, and I feel like it isn't the first time. "Yeah," I bark, not checking to see who it is. "Skull, you and Bones need to get to the hospital right now," Scorp demands, and something in his tone has me sliding off my sheet and sitting up. "What is it?" I ask, standing. "Daisy showed up here last night and had the baby. She had left town but decided to come back to give birth." He pauses and takes a deep breath. My heart starts hammering in my chest. He can't be saying what I think he's saying, right? "I quickly ran the tests, and the baby is either yours or Bones." Fu-ck. No. We knew this was a slight possibility. We had both fu-cked Daisy. Yeah, we wore protection, but accidents happen. I guess it was twice as lucky that we were the father, since we both had her. What a fu-cking sh-it show. I quickly shower, get dressed, and head next door to my brother's room. Rose is still nak-ed in bed with him. We might have both fu-cked her last night, but while he allows sleepovers, I do not. "Bones, get up," I say, and his blue eyes, identical to my own, open. "What?" "Get dressed, we have to go to the hospital. Scorp called." His brows knit as he tries to process my words while he's still half asleep. He quickly gets up and stands in front of me. "Who's hurt?" "It's Daisy," I say, swallowing hard. "The baby. It's ours." He makes a choking sound, mixed with laughter that lacks his usual humor. "Stop messing around." "I'm not," I say quietly. We share a look. "Fu-ck," he grunts, stalking toward the bathroom with his hands behind his neck. Neither of us is father material. The first baby we ever held was Zade, Ora's son, and that was just last week. It's the blind fu-cking leading the blind here, and the child's mother is a club girl. What life is this baby going to have? While Bones gets ready, I pull out my phone and search the internet for what newborns need. Apparently, a lot. I'm going to need Ora's help with this one. On our way to our bikes, I turn to Bones. "Should we bring something?" At the same time, he says, "We should bring something, right?" One mind. "What though? I don't know what a baby needs." I nod in agreement. "Let's go check out the situation, and then we can go buy everything." I pause. "Should we bring Daisy flowers or something? She did just push out our baby." A muscle works in his jaw. "Yeah, all right. We can get something in the hospital gift shop." We take care of what's ours. It doesn't matter who the baby actually belongs to. He or she is ours. It's as simple and as complicated as that. When we step into the hospital, we find Scorp waiting for us at reception. My eyes drop to the tag that reads 'Dr. James.' The concerned look on his face doesn't bode well for us. He looks away from the paperwork in his hands, his green eyes darting from one of us to the other. "I don't know how to say this." "Just tell us," I demand quietly. He rubs the back of his neck. "Daisy left. She had the baby, and she left." I share a look with Bones. "What do you mean she fu-cking left?" Bones snarls, his jaw tightening. "Where the he-ll did she go?" "She left a note," Scorp says, handing it to us. I don't want this baby. Give it to her father. "Did she even know that we were the father?" I ask, trying to figure out why the fu-ck she has done something so heartless to an innocent child. "No," he admits, shaking his head. He lowers his tone. "She doesn't know I ran those tests. I still had the samples we took before she ran off. So I just tested your DNA with the baby's. It was a match. If you want, we can run more tests to find out which one of you is definitely the father." "No," we reply at the same time. "I thought as much." He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, his muscles straining against his fancy white doctor coat. "I think you should find out. You can both still raise her, but how is she going to call both of you dad? Think about it." She? We have a daughter. A little girl. Why am I more terrified than I was before? "We have a little girl?" Bones mutters, shaking his head like he's clearing his thoughts. "I'm going to need more guns." "There's more. Your daughter is in the NICU because she was born underweight. She's only a tiny little thing, and she needs some feeding and breathing support. We want to watch over her for a few more days to be safe," he explains, and my heart starts racing with pure fear. "But she will be okay?" I ask, frowning. "Yes, she will. Come on, you can both go see her." At the first sight of our daughter, lying in the clear crib, sound asleep, I instantly fall in love with her. A full head of blonde hair, long dark lashes, and the tiniest set of fingers and toes I've ever seen. She's perfect. Scorp lets us hold her hand through the circle holes in the crib. That has to be enough for today. We stay with her for hours. Bones heads home to sleep, and he will swap with me tomorrow morning. "She's the most adorable baby," the nurse says as she steps into the room. "Sorry to interrupt, I'm Isla. I'll be her night-shift nurse tonight." Her dark, thick hair is tied at her nape, big chocolate-brown doe eyes highlight her face, and even her scrubs can't hide her curvy body. "Skull," I reply. She's wearing glasses that I find really-fu-cking-adorable and hasn't checked me out even once. Isla picks up my baby girl's chart and reads over it, smiling down at her. "I caught her with her eyes open yesterday. Big blue eyes." She turns to me and looks me in the eye for the first time. "Just like yours." I study her for a few moments, but don't say anything in return. She goes about her business and then turns back to me. "You want me to get you anything. A coffee?" I'd love a coffee, but I shake my head. She must have seen just how much I wanted one on my face, because a few minutes later, she comes back and hands me one anyway. "I didn't know what you like so I guessed." I bring the cup to my lips. Black. One sugar. Just how I like it. "Thank you." "You're welcome, Daddy," she replies, flashing me an easy, amused smile, and then leaves once more. Daddy? Yeah, now is not the time, Skull. Little did I know how this one interaction with her would send me down a fu-cking rabbit hole. ISLA Clipboard in hand, I wince when I remember what I said to the hottest man I've ever seen in my life. Shoulder-length blond hair, intelligent crystal blue eyes, bluer than I've ever seen, framed in thick dark lashes, and tanned skin. Even sitting down, I can tell that he's tall and built. His biceps are straining against his white V-neck T-shirt, while his broad shoulders are the perfect perch for a woman to sit on. And I called him Daddy. To his face. Fu-ck my life. I knew I shouldn't have listened to all those BDSM audiobooks this month. He's here with his daughter, Isla. Shut it down and be professional. It's been a few days since that night, so hopefully he's forgotten all about our initial meeting. First impressions don't matter that much, right? I've never dated a patient, and I don't intend on breaking that rule now. Plus, a man who looks like that? Trouble. He's way out of my league. Definitely younger than me. A he-ll of a lot more attractive and fitter than me. Oh, and he just had a baby. I saw the note that said the mother had left the hospital without a backward glance, and he's the one raising the baby alone. I don't know how a woman could do that, but I'm here to help, not judge. And just because the baby's mother left, doesn't mean he's single. "Hello, how's the little angel today?" I say to him as I step into the room. He lifts his head and smiles. "She's good. I was wondering when I was going to see you again," he rasps, running a hand through his hair. "And why is that?" I ask, keeping my voice even. He smirks, but says nothing. He just studies me with that intelligent gaze before returning his attention to his daughter. I read the doctor's notes and smile. "I see Dr. James came in to see you both. Do you want to hold her?" I ask, and he lifts those blue eyes to mine as he nods. "Skin-to-skin contact is so important," I murmur, washing and drying my hands thoroughly. I clear my throat. "So if you want to remove your T-shirt, I can lay her on your chest." It's a normal suggestion I'd make, but it feels a little different this time. Without missing a beat, he stands to his full height. He's tall. I try to look away, I really do, but when he grips his T-shirt at his nape and reveals a smooth and ripped chest, indented abs, and a trail of blond hair pointing down the middle of his jeans, my mouth is suddenly dry. My pus-sy, not so much. If the other nurses see this, he's going to cause a riot. Some of them might come to work for free. When our eyes lock and hold, I don't miss the flicker of amusement there. He slowly sits back down, carefully lifting his daughter and resting her on his chest. He looks down at her, and the gentle look in his eyes makes me feel like I'm intruding on their moment. I cover them both with a warm blanket and keep myself busy, giving them their moment but not wanting to leave in case she needs anything. About thirty minutes later, he's still watching his baby girl so closely, like if he even blinks, she might disappear. He gently ki-sses the top of her head, and the sight melts my heart. I know how hard it is for parents to see their kids in the NICU, but his daughter is doing well. She'll be out of here and thriving in no time. He finally breaks the comfortable silence. "We still can't decide on a name for her." We. So there is another woman on the scene. "What do you have it narrowed down to?" I ask gently. "Natalia or Nyla." "Both beautiful names," I murmur, trying to picture which one would suit the adorable blonde hair, blue-eyed baby more. Natalia. I think she's a Natalia. I notice a book on the table next to him, a bookmark sitting halfway through it. Curiosity has me peering over to see what he's reading. I can make out the word emperor, but that's it. I find it incredibly se-xy that he reads, especially as a reader myself. I'm on my Kindle almost every night and have my audiobooks playing in the car on the way to and from work. "It's a good book," he comments, and when I look at him, I find his eyes already on me. "You can read it when I'm finished if you like." My lip twitches. "It doesn't look like my usual read." He grins, flashing straight white teeth. "Let me guess, you're a romance girl. No... dark romance." I laugh, sliding my pen out of my pocket and making a note on the chart. "I might enjoy a good fictional romance now and again." "Only fictional?" he asks, tilting his head to the side and studying me. Why does it feel like he can see right through me? Like if I lied about something, he would know. He's reading me, and I don't know if I like it. "That's the only place love like that exists," I mutter, and I know I sound cynical. But when you've been through what I have, you can't help but lose faith in dating and men in general. His daughter stirs, and I get some milk ready for her. When I hand him the bottle, our fingers touch. My eyes widen when he takes my hand and holds it. "I don't think that's true. Which name do you prefer?" I scan his face, trying to read him. "Natalia." Once he finally releases me, there's a reluctance on both our parts to move away from each other. When Dr. James steps in, I get the he-ll out of there. I don't need to be attracted to a man who goes by the name of Skull. Liz, one of my closest friends and also a nurse here, told me that he's a biker. She knows all the gossip. A biker. He's a walking, talking red flag of a bad boy book boyfriend. You know, one of those you love to read about but would be a total fu-cking disaster in real life? So what if he's the most beautifully masculine man I've ever seen in real life? So what if his muscles look like they've been sculptured by the gods themselves? Instalove is not one of my favorite tropes.
Right there—in our bed—my biker was buried in some club bimbo. Me? Just a prey for his hunting game. Frozen in the doorway, I watched a pretty curly-haired brunette was draped over my biker Skull's lap, her pouty lips swallowing down his co-ck. "Your fu-cking perfect mouth, Rose." Skull rasped, fu-cking her deeper before pulling out, and making her a whining sound. The sight in front of me sucked the air out of my lungs, making it hard for me to stand still with my shivering legs. Rose moaned around his co-ck, teasing, a lazy smirk playing on her ki-ss-swollen lips. "How about the girl you've been chasing these days? Let her join us. I promise I know how to share." Skull laughed—a low, cruel sound that made my blood curdle. "Isla? Just a baby nurse. A next target. I'll fu-ck her, get her out of my system, and toss her aside. Soon." Tears burned behind my eyes, hot and sharp, as those two labels echoed over and over in my head: Baby nurse. Target. I'd been so stupid to think I was his only woman, that I was special—but I was no different from a club girl. —— SKULL Tangling her dark curls in my fist, I watch her pouty lips swallow down my co-ck. I'm standing at the edge of the bed while my identical twin, Bones, fu-cks Rose, one of the club girls, from behind. "Fu-ck, you always take us so well," he grits out, slapping her as-s hard. The sound echoes through the room. "You like having two big co-cks to play with, don't you? Show Skull just how good that mouth is." She moans around my co-ck, which sends a tingle down my spine. She knows what she's doing. We've fu-cked Rose plenty of times, always together. She's up for anything, and that's why she's one of the favorites here at Serpents of Chaos MC. She's been with all of the brothers at one time or another, but she hasn't started any sh-it with any of the old ladies, so she gets extra points for that. She knows the score, and we won't have to worry about her trying to get clingy with us tomorrow. "That fu-cking mouth," I rasp, fu-cking her deeper before pulling out. She makes a whining sound, wanting it back. Bones starts to fu-ck her harder, then pulls out and spins her around. We know what the other is thinking and what the other wants, and we work together like a well-oiled machine. This isn't our first rodeo, and the women we share never leave unsatisfied. I slide on a con-dom and start to fu-ck her pus-sy while Bones gets her mouth. She moans around his di-ck, loving every second of what she's getting. "What do you think, brother? Should we let her come again?" Bones rasps, gripping her hair and fu-cking her face. I reach between us and start stroking her cl-it. "Yeah, we can't let her leave here without coming at least six times. What do you think?" "I'm going to come in her mouth, and she's going to swallow every drop down like the good little who-re she is," he orders, looking down at her. "Aren't you, Rose?" She nods around him, then starts to scream as she comes all over my co-ck. "Fu-ck," I grunt as I follow her, gripping her as-s cheeks so hard I know she's going to have bruises tomorrow. Bones finishes with us. "Open your mouth and show me," he growls, and she does as she's told. "Good girl," he praises, letting go of her hair and lying down on the bed. "Stay here, Rose. We aren't done with you yet." She lies down between us, catching her breath. "Fu-ck, I came so hard that time." She sighs, closing her eyes. We let her sleep for an hour before waking her again. Still hungover from the celebrations the night before, I cover my eyes with my arm, trying to block the sunlight. My phone vibrates, and I feel like it isn't the first time. "Yeah," I bark, not checking to see who it is. "Skull, you and Bones need to get to the hospital right now," Scorp demands, and something in his tone has me sliding off my sheet and sitting up. "What is it?" I ask, standing. "Daisy showed up here last night and had the baby. She had left town but decided to come back to give birth." He pauses and takes a deep breath. My heart starts hammering in my chest. He can't be saying what I think he's saying, right? "I quickly ran the tests, and the baby is either yours or Bones." Fu-ck. No. We knew this was a slight possibility. We had both fu-cked Daisy. Yeah, we wore protection, but accidents happen. I guess it was twice as lucky that we were the father, since we both had her. What a fu-cking sh-it show. I quickly shower, get dressed, and head next door to my brother's room. Rose is still nak-ed in bed with him. We might have both fu-cked her last night, but while he allows sleepovers, I do not. "Bones, get up," I say, and his blue eyes, identical to my own, open. "What?" "Get dressed, we have to go to the hospital. Scorp called." His brows knit as he tries to process my words while he's still half asleep. He quickly gets up and stands in front of me. "Who's hurt?" "It's Daisy," I say, swallowing hard. "The baby. It's ours." He makes a choking sound, mixed with laughter that lacks his usual humor. "Stop messing around." "I'm not," I say quietly. We share a look. "Fu-ck," he grunts, stalking toward the bathroom with his hands behind his neck. Neither of us is father material. The first baby we ever held was Zade, Ora's son, and that was just last week. It's the blind fu-cking leading the blind here, and the child's mother is a club girl. What life is this baby going to have? While Bones gets ready, I pull out my phone and search the internet for what newborns need. Apparently, a lot. I'm going to need Ora's help with this one. On our way to our bikes, I turn to Bones. "Should we bring something?" At the same time, he says, "We should bring something, right?" One mind. "What though? I don't know what a baby needs." I nod in agreement. "Let's go check out the situation, and then we can go buy everything." I pause. "Should we bring Daisy flowers or something? She did just push out our baby." A muscle works in his jaw. "Yeah, all right. We can get something in the hospital gift shop." We take care of what's ours. It doesn't matter who the baby actually belongs to. He or she is ours. It's as simple and as complicated as that. When we step into the hospital, we find Scorp waiting for us at reception. My eyes drop to the tag that reads 'Dr. James.' The concerned look on his face doesn't bode well for us. He looks away from the paperwork in his hands, his green eyes darting from one of us to the other. "I don't know how to say this." "Just tell us," I demand quietly. He rubs the back of his neck. "Daisy left. She had the baby, and she left." I share a look with Bones. "What do you mean she fu-cking left?" Bones snarls, his jaw tightening. "Where the he-ll did she go?" "She left a note," Scorp says, handing it to us. I don't want this baby. Give it to her father. "Did she even know that we were the father?" I ask, trying to figure out why the fu-ck she has done something so heartless to an innocent child. "No," he admits, shaking his head. He lowers his tone. "She doesn't know I ran those tests. I still had the samples we took before she ran off. So I just tested your DNA with the baby's. It was a match. If you want, we can run more tests to find out which one of you is definitely the father." "No," we reply at the same time. "I thought as much." He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, his muscles straining against his fancy white doctor coat. "I think you should find out. You can both still raise her, but how is she going to call both of you dad? Think about it." She? We have a daughter. A little girl. Why am I more terrified than I was before? "We have a little girl?" Bones mutters, shaking his head like he's clearing his thoughts. "I'm going to need more guns." "There's more. Your daughter is in the NICU because she was born underweight. She's only a tiny little thing, and she needs some feeding and breathing support. We want to watch over her for a few more days to be safe," he explains, and my heart starts racing with pure fear. "But she will be okay?" I ask, frowning. "Yes, she will. Come on, you can both go see her." At the first sight of our daughter, lying in the clear crib, sound asleep, I instantly fall in love with her. A full head of blonde hair, long dark lashes, and the tiniest set of fingers and toes I've ever seen. She's perfect. Scorp lets us hold her hand through the circle holes in the crib. That has to be enough for today. We stay with her for hours. Bones heads home to sleep, and he will swap with me tomorrow morning. "She's the most adorable baby," the nurse says as she steps into the room. "Sorry to interrupt, I'm Isla. I'll be her night-shift nurse tonight." Her dark, thick hair is tied at her nape, big chocolate-brown doe eyes highlight her face, and even her scrubs can't hide her curvy body. "Skull," I reply. She's wearing glasses that I find really-fu-cking-adorable and hasn't checked me out even once. Isla picks up my baby girl's chart and reads over it, smiling down at her. "I caught her with her eyes open yesterday. Big blue eyes." She turns to me and looks me in the eye for the first time. "Just like yours." I study her for a few moments, but don't say anything in return. She goes about her business and then turns back to me. "You want me to get you anything. A coffee?" I'd love a coffee, but I shake my head. She must have seen just how much I wanted one on my face, because a few minutes later, she comes back and hands me one anyway. "I didn't know what you like so I guessed." I bring the cup to my lips. Black. One sugar. Just how I like it. "Thank you." "You're welcome, Daddy," she replies, flashing me an easy, amused smile, and then leaves once more. Daddy? Yeah, now is not the time, Skull. Little did I know how this one interaction with her would send me down a fu-cking rabbit hole. ISLA Clipboard in hand, I wince when I remember what I said to the hottest man I've ever seen in my life. Shoulder-length blond hair, intelligent crystal blue eyes, bluer than I've ever seen, framed in thick dark lashes, and tanned skin. Even sitting down, I can tell that he's tall and built. His biceps are straining against his white V-neck T-shirt, while his broad shoulders are the perfect perch for a woman to sit on. And I called him Daddy. To his face. Fu-ck my life. I knew I shouldn't have listened to all those BDSM audiobooks this month. He's here with his daughter, Isla. Shut it down and be professional. It's been a few days since that night, so hopefully he's forgotten all about our initial meeting. First impressions don't matter that much, right? I've never dated a patient, and I don't intend on breaking that rule now. Plus, a man who looks like that? Trouble. He's way out of my league. Definitely younger than me. A he-ll of a lot more attractive and fitter than me. Oh, and he just had a baby. I saw the note that said the mother had left the hospital without a backward glance, and he's the one raising the baby alone. I don't know how a woman could do that, but I'm here to help, not judge. And just because the baby's mother left, doesn't mean he's single. "Hello, how's the little angel today?" I say to him as I step into the room. He lifts his head and smiles. "She's good. I was wondering when I was going to see you again," he rasps, running a hand through his hair. "And why is that?" I ask, keeping my voice even. He smirks, but says nothing. He just studies me with that intelligent gaze before returning his attention to his daughter. I read the doctor's notes and smile. "I see Dr. James came in to see you both. Do you want to hold her?" I ask, and he lifts those blue eyes to mine as he nods. "Skin-to-skin contact is so important," I murmur, washing and drying my hands thoroughly. I clear my throat. "So if you want to remove your T-shirt, I can lay her on your chest." It's a normal suggestion I'd make, but it feels a little different this time. Without missing a beat, he stands to his full height. He's tall. I try to look away, I really do, but when he grips his T-shirt at his nape and reveals a smooth and ripped chest, indented abs, and a trail of blond hair pointing down the middle of his jeans, my mouth is suddenly dry. My pus-sy, not so much. If the other nurses see this, he's going to cause a riot. Some of them might come to work for free. When our eyes lock and hold, I don't miss the flicker of amusement there. He slowly sits back down, carefully lifting his daughter and resting her on his chest. He looks down at her, and the gentle look in his eyes makes me feel like I'm intruding on their moment. I cover them both with a warm blanket and keep myself busy, giving them their moment but not wanting to leave in case she needs anything. About thirty minutes later, he's still watching his baby girl so closely, like if he even blinks, she might disappear. He gently ki-sses the top of her head, and the sight melts my heart. I know how hard it is for parents to see their kids in the NICU, but his daughter is doing well. She'll be out of here and thriving in no time. He finally breaks the comfortable silence. "We still can't decide on a name for her." We. So there is another woman on the scene. "What do you have it narrowed down to?" I ask gently. "Natalia or Nyla." "Both beautiful names," I murmur, trying to picture which one would suit the adorable blonde hair, blue-eyed baby more. Natalia. I think she's a Natalia. I notice a book on the table next to him, a bookmark sitting halfway through it. Curiosity has me peering over to see what he's reading. I can make out the word emperor, but that's it. I find it incredibly se-xy that he reads, especially as a reader myself. I'm on my Kindle almost every night and have my audiobooks playing in the car on the way to and from work. "It's a good book," he comments, and when I look at him, I find his eyes already on me. "You can read it when I'm finished if you like." My lip twitches. "It doesn't look like my usual read." He grins, flashing straight white teeth. "Let me guess, you're a romance girl. No... dark romance." I laugh, sliding my pen out of my pocket and making a note on the chart. "I might enjoy a good fictional romance now and again." "Only fictional?" he asks, tilting his head to the side and studying me. Why does it feel like he can see right through me? Like if I lied about something, he would know. He's reading me, and I don't know if I like it. "That's the only place love like that exists," I mutter, and I know I sound cynical. But when you've been through what I have, you can't help but lose faith in dating and men in general. His daughter stirs, and I get some milk ready for her. When I hand him the bottle, our fingers touch. My eyes widen when he takes my hand and holds it. "I don't think that's true. Which name do you prefer?" I scan his face, trying to read him. "Natalia." Once he finally releases me, there's a reluctance on both our parts to move away from each other. When Dr. James steps in, I get the he-ll out of there. I don't need to be attracted to a man who goes by the name of Skull. Liz, one of my closest friends and also a nurse here, told me that he's a biker. She knows all the gossip. A biker. He's a walking, talking red flag of a bad boy book boyfriend. You know, one of those you love to read about but would be a total fu-cking disaster in real life? So what if he's the most beautifully masculine man I've ever seen in real life? So what if his muscles look like they've been sculptured by the gods themselves? Instalove is not one of my favorite tropes.
Right there—in our bed—my biker was buried in some club bimbo. Me? Just a prey for his hunting game. Frozen in the doorway, I watched a pretty curly-haired brunette was draped over my biker Skull's lap, her pouty lips swallowing down his co-ck. "Your fu-cking perfect mouth, Rose." Skull rasped, fu-cking her deeper before pulling out, and making her a whining sound. The sight in front of me sucked the air out of my lungs, making it hard for me to stand still with my shivering legs. Rose moaned around his co-ck, teasing, a lazy smirk playing on her ki-ss-swollen lips. "How about the girl you've been chasing these days? Let her join us. I promise I know how to share." Skull laughed—a low, cruel sound that made my blood curdle. "Isla? Just a baby nurse. A next target. I'll fu-ck her, get her out of my system, and toss her aside. Soon." Tears burned behind my eyes, hot and sharp, as those two labels echoed over and over in my head: Baby nurse. Target. I'd been so stupid to think I was his only woman, that I was special—but I was no different from a club girl. —— SKULL Tangling her dark curls in my fist, I watch her pouty lips swallow down my co-ck. I'm standing at the edge of the bed while my identical twin, Bones, fu-cks Rose, one of the club girls, from behind. "Fu-ck, you always take us so well," he grits out, slapping her as-s hard. The sound echoes through the room. "You like having two big co-cks to play with, don't you? Show Skull just how good that mouth is." She moans around my co-ck, which sends a tingle down my spine. She knows what she's doing. We've fu-cked Rose plenty of times, always together. She's up for anything, and that's why she's one of the favorites here at Serpents of Chaos MC. She's been with all of the brothers at one time or another, but she hasn't started any sh-it with any of the old ladies, so she gets extra points for that. She knows the score, and we won't have to worry about her trying to get clingy with us tomorrow. "That fu-cking mouth," I rasp, fu-cking her deeper before pulling out. She makes a whining sound, wanting it back. Bones starts to fu-ck her harder, then pulls out and spins her around. We know what the other is thinking and what the other wants, and we work together like a well-oiled machine. This isn't our first rodeo, and the women we share never leave unsatisfied. I slide on a con-dom and start to fu-ck her pus-sy while Bones gets her mouth. She moans around his di-ck, loving every second of what she's getting. "What do you think, brother? Should we let her come again?" Bones rasps, gripping her hair and fu-cking her face. I reach between us and start stroking her cl-it. "Yeah, we can't let her leave here without coming at least six times. What do you think?" "I'm going to come in her mouth, and she's going to swallow every drop down like the good little who-re she is," he orders, looking down at her. "Aren't you, Rose?" She nods around him, then starts to scream as she comes all over my co-ck. "Fu-ck," I grunt as I follow her, gripping her as-s cheeks so hard I know she's going to have bruises tomorrow. Bones finishes with us. "Open your mouth and show me," he growls, and she does as she's told. "Good girl," he praises, letting go of her hair and lying down on the bed. "Stay here, Rose. We aren't done with you yet." She lies down between us, catching her breath. "Fu-ck, I came so hard that time." She sighs, closing her eyes. We let her sleep for an hour before waking her again. Still hungover from the celebrations the night before, I cover my eyes with my arm, trying to block the sunlight. My phone vibrates, and I feel like it isn't the first time. "Yeah," I bark, not checking to see who it is. "Skull, you and Bones need to get to the hospital right now," Scorp demands, and something in his tone has me sliding off my sheet and sitting up. "What is it?" I ask, standing. "Daisy showed up here last night and had the baby. She had left town but decided to come back to give birth." He pauses and takes a deep breath. My heart starts hammering in my chest. He can't be saying what I think he's saying, right? "I quickly ran the tests, and the baby is either yours or Bones." Fu-ck. No. We knew this was a slight possibility. We had both fu-cked Daisy. Yeah, we wore protection, but accidents happen. I guess it was twice as lucky that we were the father, since we both had her. What a fu-cking sh-it show. I quickly shower, get dressed, and head next door to my brother's room. Rose is still nak-ed in bed with him. We might have both fu-cked her last night, but while he allows sleepovers, I do not. "Bones, get up," I say, and his blue eyes, identical to my own, open. "What?" "Get dressed, we have to go to the hospital. Scorp called." His brows knit as he tries to process my words while he's still half asleep. He quickly gets up and stands in front of me. "Who's hurt?" "It's Daisy," I say, swallowing hard. "The baby. It's ours." He makes a choking sound, mixed with laughter that lacks his usual humor. "Stop messing around." "I'm not," I say quietly. We share a look. "Fu-ck," he grunts, stalking toward the bathroom with his hands behind his neck. Neither of us is father material. The first baby we ever held was Zade, Ora's son, and that was just last week. It's the blind fu-cking leading the blind here, and the child's mother is a club girl. What life is this baby going to have? While Bones gets ready, I pull out my phone and search the internet for what newborns need. Apparently, a lot. I'm going to need Ora's help with this one. On our way to our bikes, I turn to Bones. "Should we bring something?" At the same time, he says, "We should bring something, right?" One mind. "What though? I don't know what a baby needs." I nod in agreement. "Let's go check out the situation, and then we can go buy everything." I pause. "Should we bring Daisy flowers or something? She did just push out our baby." A muscle works in his jaw. "Yeah, all right. We can get something in the hospital gift shop." We take care of what's ours. It doesn't matter who the baby actually belongs to. He or she is ours. It's as simple and as complicated as that. When we step into the hospital, we find Scorp waiting for us at reception. My eyes drop to the tag that reads 'Dr. James.' The concerned look on his face doesn't bode well for us. He looks away from the paperwork in his hands, his green eyes darting from one of us to the other. "I don't know how to say this." "Just tell us," I demand quietly. He rubs the back of his neck. "Daisy left. She had the baby, and she left." I share a look with Bones. "What do you mean she fu-cking left?" Bones snarls, his jaw tightening. "Where the he-ll did she go?" "She left a note," Scorp says, handing it to us. I don't want this baby. Give it to her father. "Did she even know that we were the father?" I ask, trying to figure out why the fu-ck she has done something so heartless to an innocent child. "No," he admits, shaking his head. He lowers his tone. "She doesn't know I ran those tests. I still had the samples we took before she ran off. So I just tested your DNA with the baby's. It was a match. If you want, we can run more tests to find out which one of you is definitely the father." "No," we reply at the same time. "I thought as much." He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, his muscles straining against his fancy white doctor coat. "I think you should find out. You can both still raise her, but how is she going to call both of you dad? Think about it." She? We have a daughter. A little girl. Why am I more terrified than I was before? "We have a little girl?" Bones mutters, shaking his head like he's clearing his thoughts. "I'm going to need more guns." "There's more. Your daughter is in the NICU because she was born underweight. She's only a tiny little thing, and she needs some feeding and breathing support. We want to watch over her for a few more days to be safe," he explains, and my heart starts racing with pure fear. "But she will be okay?" I ask, frowning. "Yes, she will. Come on, you can both go see her." At the first sight of our daughter, lying in the clear crib, sound asleep, I instantly fall in love with her. A full head of blonde hair, long dark lashes, and the tiniest set of fingers and toes I've ever seen. She's perfect. Scorp lets us hold her hand through the circle holes in the crib. That has to be enough for today. We stay with her for hours. Bones heads home to sleep, and he will swap with me tomorrow morning. "She's the most adorable baby," the nurse says as she steps into the room. "Sorry to interrupt, I'm Isla. I'll be her night-shift nurse tonight." Her dark, thick hair is tied at her nape, big chocolate-brown doe eyes highlight her face, and even her scrubs can't hide her curvy body. "Skull," I reply. She's wearing glasses that I find really-fu-cking-adorable and hasn't checked me out even once. Isla picks up my baby girl's chart and reads over it, smiling down at her. "I caught her with her eyes open yesterday. Big blue eyes." She turns to me and looks me in the eye for the first time. "Just like yours." I study her for a few moments, but don't say anything in return. She goes about her business and then turns back to me. "You want me to get you anything. A coffee?" I'd love a coffee, but I shake my head. She must have seen just how much I wanted one on my face, because a few minutes later, she comes back and hands me one anyway. "I didn't know what you like so I guessed." I bring the cup to my lips. Black. One sugar. Just how I like it. "Thank you." "You're welcome, Daddy," she replies, flashing me an easy, amused smile, and then leaves once more. Daddy? Yeah, now is not the time, Skull. Little did I know how this one interaction with her would send me down a fu-cking rabbit hole. ISLA Clipboard in hand, I wince when I remember what I said to the hottest man I've ever seen in my life. Shoulder-length blond hair, intelligent crystal blue eyes, bluer than I've ever seen, framed in thick dark lashes, and tanned skin. Even sitting down, I can tell that he's tall and built. His biceps are straining against his white V-neck T-shirt, while his broad shoulders are the perfect perch for a woman to sit on. And I called him Daddy. To his face. Fu-ck my life. I knew I shouldn't have listened to all those BDSM audiobooks this month. He's here with his daughter, Isla. Shut it down and be professional. It's been a few days since that night, so hopefully he's forgotten all about our initial meeting. First impressions don't matter that much, right? I've never dated a patient, and I don't intend on breaking that rule now. Plus, a man who looks like that? Trouble. He's way out of my league. Definitely younger than me. A he-ll of a lot more attractive and fitter than me. Oh, and he just had a baby. I saw the note that said the mother had left the hospital without a backward glance, and he's the one raising the baby alone. I don't know how a woman could do that, but I'm here to help, not judge. And just because the baby's mother left, doesn't mean he's single. "Hello, how's the little angel today?" I say to him as I step into the room. He lifts his head and smiles. "She's good. I was wondering when I was going to see you again," he rasps, running a hand through his hair. "And why is that?" I ask, keeping my voice even. He smirks, but says nothing. He just studies me with that intelligent gaze before returning his attention to his daughter. I read the doctor's notes and smile. "I see Dr. James came in to see you both. Do you want to hold her?" I ask, and he lifts those blue eyes to mine as he nods. "Skin-to-skin contact is so important," I murmur, washing and drying my hands thoroughly. I clear my throat. "So if you want to remove your T-shirt, I can lay her on your chest." It's a normal suggestion I'd make, but it feels a little different this time. Without missing a beat, he stands to his full height. He's tall. I try to look away, I really do, but when he grips his T-shirt at his nape and reveals a smooth and ripped chest, indented abs, and a trail of blond hair pointing down the middle of his jeans, my mouth is suddenly dry. My pus-sy, not so much. If the other nurses see this, he's going to cause a riot. Some of them might come to work for free. When our eyes lock and hold, I don't miss the flicker of amusement there. He slowly sits back down, carefully lifting his daughter and resting her on his chest. He looks down at her, and the gentle look in his eyes makes me feel like I'm intruding on their moment. I cover them both with a warm blanket and keep myself busy, giving them their moment but not wanting to leave in case she needs anything. About thirty minutes later, he's still watching his baby girl so closely, like if he even blinks, she might disappear. He gently ki-sses the top of her head, and the sight melts my heart. I know how hard it is for parents to see their kids in the NICU, but his daughter is doing well. She'll be out of here and thriving in no time. He finally breaks the comfortable silence. "We still can't decide on a name for her." We. So there is another woman on the scene. "What do you have it narrowed down to?" I ask gently. "Natalia or Nyla." "Both beautiful names," I murmur, trying to picture which one would suit the adorable blonde hair, blue-eyed baby more. Natalia. I think she's a Natalia. I notice a book on the table next to him, a bookmark sitting halfway through it. Curiosity has me peering over to see what he's reading. I can make out the word emperor, but that's it. I find it incredibly se-xy that he reads, especially as a reader myself. I'm on my Kindle almost every night and have my audiobooks playing in the car on the way to and from work. "It's a good book," he comments, and when I look at him, I find his eyes already on me. "You can read it when I'm finished if you like." My lip twitches. "It doesn't look like my usual read." He grins, flashing straight white teeth. "Let me guess, you're a romance girl. No... dark romance." I laugh, sliding my pen out of my pocket and making a note on the chart. "I might enjoy a good fictional romance now and again." "Only fictional?" he asks, tilting his head to the side and studying me. Why does it feel like he can see right through me? Like if I lied about something, he would know. He's reading me, and I don't know if I like it. "That's the only place love like that exists," I mutter, and I know I sound cynical. But when you've been through what I have, you can't help but lose faith in dating and men in general. His daughter stirs, and I get some milk ready for her. When I hand him the bottle, our fingers touch. My eyes widen when he takes my hand and holds it. "I don't think that's true. Which name do you prefer?" I scan his face, trying to read him. "Natalia." Once he finally releases me, there's a reluctance on both our parts to move away from each other. When Dr. James steps in, I get the he-ll out of there. I don't need to be attracted to a man who goes by the name of Skull. Liz, one of my closest friends and also a nurse here, told me that he's a biker. She knows all the gossip. A biker. He's a walking, talking red flag of a bad boy book boyfriend. You know, one of those you love to read about but would be a total fu-cking disaster in real life? So what if he's the most beautifully masculine man I've ever seen in real life? So what if his muscles look like they've been sculptured by the gods themselves? Instalove is not one of my favorite tropes.
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✨ The Future of Lashes is Here: No Clumps, No Mess, Just Steel Precision! 👁️The viral Steel Tube Mascara & Primer—the revolutionary beauty tool that’s changing the lash game forever! 🤩 ✅World's First Metal Wand: Forget the messy fiber brushes of the past. This high-precision, grooved steel tube is designed to coat every single lash from root to tip without holding excess goop. The result? Perfectly separated, high-definition lashes. 💗🌸360° Root-to-Tip Lift: Because the metal wand is so slim, you can get closer to your lash line than ever before. It acts like a tiny "curler and comb" in one, lifting your lashes for a wide-awake, doe-eyed look that lasts all day. 💎Smudge-Proof & Waterproof Formula: Our "All-Day Lock" technology ensures your lashes stay bold and black through sweat, humidity, and even tears. No flaking, no "raccoon eyes," and zero touch-ups required. 🌿Zero-Clump Priming: The built-in primer fills in thin lashes and adds incredible length before you even apply color. It creates the perfect canvas for dramatic, sky-high volume without the "crunchy" feel. 🧼Hypoallergenic & Easy to Clean: The steel wand is more hygienic than traditional brushes! Simply wipe it clean after use to prevent bacteria buildup. It’s perfect for sensitive eyes and contact lens wearers.
✨ The Future of Lashes is Here: No Clumps, No Mess, Just Steel Precision! 👁️The viral Steel Tube Mascara & Primer—the revolutionary beauty tool that’s changing the lash game forever! 🤩 ✅World's First Metal Wand: Forget the messy fiber brushes of the past. This high-precision, grooved steel tube is designed to coat every single lash from root to tip without holding excess goop. The result? Perfectly separated, high-definition lashes. 💗🌸360° Root-to-Tip Lift: Because the metal wand is so slim, you can get closer to your lash line than ever before. It acts like a tiny "curler and comb" in one, lifting your lashes for a wide-awake, doe-eyed look that lasts all day. 💎Smudge-Proof & Waterproof Formula: Our "All-Day Lock" technology ensures your lashes stay bold and black through sweat, humidity, and even tears. No flaking, no "raccoon eyes," and zero touch-ups required. 🌿Zero-Clump Priming: The built-in primer fills in thin lashes and adds incredible length before you even apply color. It creates the perfect canvas for dramatic, sky-high volume without the "crunchy" feel. 🧼Hypoallergenic & Easy to Clean: The steel wand is more hygienic than traditional brushes! Simply wipe it clean after use to prevent bacteria buildup. It’s perfect for sensitive eyes and contact lens wearers.
✨ The Future of Lashes is Here: No Clumps, No Mess, Just Steel Precision! 👁️The viral Steel Tube Mascara & Primer—the revolutionary beauty tool that’s changing the lash game forever! 🤩 ✅World's First Metal Wand: Forget the messy fiber brushes of the past. This high-precision, grooved steel tube is designed to coat every single lash from root to tip without holding excess goop. The result? Perfectly separated, high-definition lashes. 💗🌸360° Root-to-Tip Lift: Because the metal wand is so slim, you can get closer to your lash line than ever before. It acts like a tiny "curler and comb" in one, lifting your lashes for a wide-awake, doe-eyed look that lasts all day. 💎Smudge-Proof & Waterproof Formula: Our "All-Day Lock" technology ensures your lashes stay bold and black through sweat, humidity, and even tears. No flaking, no "raccoon eyes," and zero touch-ups required. 🌿Zero-Clump Priming: The built-in primer fills in thin lashes and adds incredible length before you even apply color. It creates the perfect canvas for dramatic, sky-high volume without the "crunchy" feel. 🧼Hypoallergenic & Easy to Clean: The steel wand is more hygienic than traditional brushes! Simply wipe it clean after use to prevent bacteria buildup. It’s perfect for sensitive eyes and contact lens wearers.
✨ The Future of Lashes is Here: No Clumps, No Mess, Just Steel Precision! 👁️The viral Steel Tube Mascara & Primer—the revolutionary beauty tool that’s changing the lash game forever! 🤩 ✅World's First Metal Wand: Forget the messy fiber brushes of the past. This high-precision, grooved steel tube is designed to coat every single lash from root to tip without holding excess goop. The result? Perfectly separated, high-definition lashes. 💗🌸360° Root-to-Tip Lift: Because the metal wand is so slim, you can get closer to your lash line than ever before. It acts like a tiny "curler and comb" in one, lifting your lashes for a wide-awake, doe-eyed look that lasts all day. 💎Smudge-Proof & Waterproof Formula: Our "All-Day Lock" technology ensures your lashes stay bold and black through sweat, humidity, and even tears. No flaking, no "raccoon eyes," and zero touch-ups required. 🌿Zero-Clump Priming: The built-in primer fills in thin lashes and adds incredible length before you even apply color. It creates the perfect canvas for dramatic, sky-high volume without the "crunchy" feel. 🧼Hypoallergenic & Easy to Clean: The steel wand is more hygienic than traditional brushes! Simply wipe it clean after use to prevent bacteria buildup. It’s perfect for sensitive eyes and contact lens wearers.
✨ The Future of Lashes is Here: No Clumps, No Mess, Just Steel Precision! 👁️The viral Steel Tube Mascara & Primer—the revolutionary beauty tool that’s changing the lash game forever! 🤩 ✅World's First Metal Wand: Forget the messy fiber brushes of the past. This high-precision, grooved steel tube is designed to coat every single lash from root to tip without holding excess goop. The result? Perfectly separated, high-definition lashes. 💗🌸360° Root-to-Tip Lift: Because the metal wand is so slim, you can get closer to your lash line than ever before. It acts like a tiny "curler and comb" in one, lifting your lashes for a wide-awake, doe-eyed look that lasts all day. 💎Smudge-Proof & Waterproof Formula: Our "All-Day Lock" technology ensures your lashes stay bold and black through sweat, humidity, and even tears. No flaking, no "raccoon eyes," and zero touch-ups required. 🌿Zero-Clump Priming: The built-in primer fills in thin lashes and adds incredible length before you even apply color. It creates the perfect canvas for dramatic, sky-high volume without the "crunchy" feel. 🧼Hypoallergenic & Easy to Clean: The steel wand is more hygienic than traditional brushes! Simply wipe it clean after use to prevent bacteria buildup. It’s perfect for sensitive eyes and contact lens wearers.
✨ The Future of Lashes is Here: No Clumps, No Mess, Just Steel Precision! 👁️The viral Steel Tube Mascara & Primer—the revolutionary beauty tool that’s changing the lash game forever! 🤩 ✅World's First Metal Wand: Forget the messy fiber brushes of the past. This high-precision, grooved steel tube is designed to coat every single lash from root to tip without holding excess goop. The result? Perfectly separated, high-definition lashes. 💗🌸360° Root-to-Tip Lift: Because the metal wand is so slim, you can get closer to your lash line than ever before. It acts like a tiny "curler and comb" in one, lifting your lashes for a wide-awake, doe-eyed look that lasts all day. 💎Smudge-Proof & Waterproof Formula: Our "All-Day Lock" technology ensures your lashes stay bold and black through sweat, humidity, and even tears. No flaking, no "raccoon eyes," and zero touch-ups required. 🌿Zero-Clump Priming: The built-in primer fills in thin lashes and adds incredible length before you even apply color. It creates the perfect canvas for dramatic, sky-high volume without the "crunchy" feel. 🧼Hypoallergenic & Easy to Clean: The steel wand is more hygienic than traditional brushes! Simply wipe it clean after use to prevent bacteria buildup. It’s perfect for sensitive eyes and contact lens wearers.
✨ The Future of Lashes is Here: No Clumps, No Mess, Just Steel Precision! 👁️The viral Steel Tube Mascara & Primer—the revolutionary beauty tool that’s changing the lash game forever! 🤩 ✅World's First Metal Wand: Forget the messy fiber brushes of the past. This high-precision, grooved steel tube is designed to coat every single lash from root to tip without holding excess goop. The result? Perfectly separated, high-definition lashes. 💗🌸360° Root-to-Tip Lift: Because the metal wand is so slim, you can get closer to your lash line than ever before. It acts like a tiny "curler and comb" in one, lifting your lashes for a wide-awake, doe-eyed look that lasts all day. 💎Smudge-Proof & Waterproof Formula: Our "All-Day Lock" technology ensures your lashes stay bold and black through sweat, humidity, and even tears. No flaking, no "raccoon eyes," and zero touch-ups required. 🌿Zero-Clump Priming: The built-in primer fills in thin lashes and adds incredible length before you even apply color. It creates the perfect canvas for dramatic, sky-high volume without the "crunchy" feel. 🧼Hypoallergenic & Easy to Clean: The steel wand is more hygienic than traditional brushes! Simply wipe it clean after use to prevent bacteria buildup. It’s perfect for sensitive eyes and contact lens wearers.
✨ The Future of Lashes is Here: No Clumps, No Mess, Just Steel Precision! 👁️The viral Steel Tube Mascara & Primer—the revolutionary beauty tool that’s changing the lash game forever! 🤩 ✅World's First Metal Wand: Forget the messy fiber brushes of the past. This high-precision, grooved steel tube is designed to coat every single lash from root to tip without holding excess goop. The result? Perfectly separated, high-definition lashes. 💗🌸360° Root-to-Tip Lift: Because the metal wand is so slim, you can get closer to your lash line than ever before. It acts like a tiny "curler and comb" in one, lifting your lashes for a wide-awake, doe-eyed look that lasts all day. 💎Smudge-Proof & Waterproof Formula: Our "All-Day Lock" technology ensures your lashes stay bold and black through sweat, humidity, and even tears. No flaking, no "raccoon eyes," and zero touch-ups required. 🌿Zero-Clump Priming: The built-in primer fills in thin lashes and adds incredible length before you even apply color. It creates the perfect canvas for dramatic, sky-high volume without the "crunchy" feel. 🧼Hypoallergenic & Easy to Clean: The steel wand is more hygienic than traditional brushes! Simply wipe it clean after use to prevent bacteria buildup. It’s perfect for sensitive eyes and contact lens wearers.
✨ The Future of Lashes is Here: No Clumps, No Mess, Just Steel Precision! 👁️The viral Steel Tube Mascara & Primer—the revolutionary beauty tool that’s changing the lash game forever! 🤩 ✅World's First Metal Wand: Forget the messy fiber brushes of the past. This high-precision, grooved steel tube is designed to coat every single lash from root to tip without holding excess goop. The result? Perfectly separated, high-definition lashes. 💗🌸360° Root-to-Tip Lift: Because the metal wand is so slim, you can get closer to your lash line than ever before. It acts like a tiny "curler and comb" in one, lifting your lashes for a wide-awake, doe-eyed look that lasts all day. 💎Smudge-Proof & Waterproof Formula: Our "All-Day Lock" technology ensures your lashes stay bold and black through sweat, humidity, and even tears. No flaking, no "raccoon eyes," and zero touch-ups required. 🌿Zero-Clump Priming: The built-in primer fills in thin lashes and adds incredible length before you even apply color. It creates the perfect canvas for dramatic, sky-high volume without the "crunchy" feel. 🧼Hypoallergenic & Easy to Clean: The steel wand is more hygienic than traditional brushes! Simply wipe it clean after use to prevent bacteria buildup. It’s perfect for sensitive eyes and contact lens wearers.
Record Store Day at Bending Sound! It's the biggest day of the year in the record world and once again promises to be a cracker here in Bangor. With thousands of titles still arriving, competitions on the go, a music fair next door and live music to see out the evening there, we're bringing you the best RSD we know how!