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I was the only princess of Royal St. Ashford Academy — the girl with four fathers.After my mother died, her four childhood sweethearts found me still alive inside her belly.And so I ended up with four fathers. My first father, Ethan Sterling, was the head of a hundred-billion-dollar dynasty. He was also the sole trustee of Royal St. Ashford Academy, holding absolute authority over the institution. My second father, Marcus Sterling, was the commander of the world's largest private military corporation — his army could annihilate a small country with ease. My third father, Julian Sterling, was a universally recognized medical genius — the next Nobel Prize candidate. My fourth father, Liam Sterling, was the most feared legend in the underground fighting circuit — before he even turned seventeen, he had defeated thirty-three elite enforcers from criminal syndicates around the globe. I grew up drowning in the love of four fathers. No matter where I went, I was the center of everyone's envy. Until the year I turned eighteen, when the four fathers' shared daughter, Bianca White, was found and brought back. From that day on, these four men became entirely different people. Bianca said I'd verbally abused her. My second father injected me with a hallucinogenic drug — I stripped naked on the school rooftop like a lunatic and danced, then fell and shattered both my legs, missing prom entirely. A video of my naked dance spread across the school's network in minutes. When my first father saw it, he locked me — a girl with severe claustrophobia — in a pitch-black closet for three days and three nights. When I came out, I discovered that every honor I'd ever earned at school had been transferred to Bianca. She said I'd poisoned her. My third father, Julian, locked me inside his deadly fungal cultivation chamber. I became the perfect host for every pathogen inside — fungal hyphae burrowed through my pores and into my organs. Only when I was on the verge of death did they pull me out and blast me under cold water for an entire night, barely saving my life. But my right eye lost all its vision permanently. After Bianca cried yet again, claiming I'd tricked her into going to a bar where she was nearly attacked by dangerous men, my first father flew into a rage and threw me into an underground bar — where I became the lowest of the low: a stripper. For three years, I went from defiance to submission — because on my eighteenth birthday, my virginity was stolen by eighteen filthy strangers. From that day on, I was reduced to nothing more than the cheapest whore. Whenever my door opened, I instinctively spread my legs and lay back on the couch. That's when I heard a voice say: "Iris, would you like to come back to your mother?" ...... I jerked my head up. There was no one in the room. But the voice came again — I spotted a glowing screen on the floor. An unfamiliar yet somehow warm face appeared on the small display. She said her name was Helen, my mother's closest friend. She said my mother, Lillian, hadn't actually died that day. She'd been poisoned — a rare toxin that induced a death-like state — and then smuggled away by people who owed her their lives. And now she knew I was alive. She wanted to bring me home. The grief and pain I'd been suppressing broke free — I sobbed, crying out that I wanted to find my mother. But Helen's tone was tense. She said the Sterling family's reach was too vast. If they discovered Mother was still alive, they would track her down. The only safe way was to make everyone believe I was dead. "Only when you 'die' will they stop looking for you. Our people will extract you after your 'death.' Your mother is waiting on the other side." "Iris, even a faked death will be extremely painful — are you willing to —" Helen hadn't even finished her sentence before I was on my feet, grabbing a shard of glass from the broken mirror and pressing it to my throat without a moment's hesitation. *Yes!* Mother was alive! All I had to do was "die," and I could see her. Overwhelming joy drowned out every fear of death — this body had already endured too much. If "death" was the only way to reach Mother, I wouldn't hesitate for a second. But just as I was about to drag the glass across my skin, a massive force knocked it from my hand. The pain made me let go. The shard fell to the floor, and a foot stepped on it. "Iris, trying to kill yourself?" That familiar voice made me look up. When I saw who it was, I called out instinctively. "Fourth Father." The moment the word left my mouth, I regretted it. Sure enough, the man's brow furrowed at the title. "Don't call me that. I cut ties with you a long time ago." The person standing before me was Liam Sterling. When I was little, I'd been kidnapped by a rival family. He alone stormed into their compound, took three knife wounds without flinching, and carried me out without a scratch on me. After he rescued me, I cried so hard looking at his wounds that I couldn't breathe. But he just ruffled my hair and said those cuts didn't hurt at all. What hurt, he said, was watching me cry. Of the four fathers, the fourth was the one who loved me most. But that love vanished four years ago, when my second father Marcus brought an injured Bianca back from a school field trip. I'd always known my four fathers shared a single obsession — a woman they all loved. I just didn't know that woman wasn't my mother. It was Bianca's mother, Celine White. The truth was something I'd pieced together fragment by fragment: my mother, Lillian, grew up alongside the four Sterling brothers. Their father had been destroyed by a corporate conspiracy — framed, bankrupted, driven to an early grave. It was young Lillian who hid the four boys, placing each with a different guardian, a different mentor. They grew into their own. With Mother Lillian's help, they completed their revenge — Ethan reclaimed the family empire and cleared the Sterling name. Lillian and Ethan were supposed to be together. Childhood sweethearts — two hearts long promised to each other. But on the eve of the wedding, Celine White appeared. The moment she walked in, all four fathers' eyes shifted. After that, they called Lillian "jealous" and "unstable." They said she kept trying to hurt Celine. They said she eventually killed herself out of spite. After Mother's death, Celine disappeared too. It wasn't until Bianca appeared that the fathers learned — or thought they learned — the truth: Celine had left because she felt guilty about Lillian's death. Honestly? I never believed any of it. My gut told me Mother wasn't the villain. Celine was. But the fathers didn't trust my instincts. The brothers didn't either. They even thought I was just like my mother — petty, jealous, always competing for attention. So every time Bianca and I clashed, all eight of them stood on her side. Before long, I went from the most pampered princess of Ashford Prep to the lowest creature in an underground bar. My fourth father picked up the glass shard from the floor, glanced at the cut on my neck. Then his hand flicked, and the shard flew straight at me. I stumbled back two steps on instinct. The glass grazed my throat, leaving another thin red line. My fourth father let out a cold laugh: "If you really want to die, why'd you dodge?" "Iris, you're just like your mother — always hurting yourself to get attention." "At least she was smarter about it. She always performed in front of us. You picked this dump. Pathetic." Chapter 2: A Door Opened at 140 Km/h I was about to explain that I wasn't acting. But then I remembered — every explanation I'd ever given, they had never once listened. So I lowered my head. "You're absolutely right, Mr. Sterling. So what brings you all the way to a place like this — here just to watch my performance?" My fourth father paused. "Don't flatter yourself. Today is Bianca's birthday, and her heir designation ceremony. She recently said she's willing to forgive you and start fresh. I'm here to bring you." He added after a beat, "Ethan wants to see you too." I'd heard three days ago that my first father, Ethan, was going to formally designate Bianca as the Sterling family heir — the ceremony timed to her birthday, complete with a grand gala. I was a year older than her. *Sterling heir* — that was a title my first father had promised me when I was ten. If this had been the old me, I would have torn the whole thing down before letting anyone take what was mine. But now I just looked at my fourth father, expressionless. "I don't want to go." My fourth father stared for a moment, then said: "This isn't up to you." He grabbed my arm and dragged me out the door, shoved me into his car. He drove me to his place first — made me shower, changed my clothes — then headed for the Sterling estate. In the car, my fourth father wouldn't stop talking in my ear — telling me to be kind to Bianca, not to provoke her, not to think about bullying her. My heart ached with a dull, familiar pain. I watched the highway blur past outside the windows, faster and faster, and the desire to see Mother grew louder and louder in my head. Then I sat up, unbuckled my seatbelt, and at a hundred and forty kilometers per hour, I opened the car door. Before my feet left the car, I heard his scream. *At this speed,* I thought, *I'll definitely die.* But the expected pain never came. Instead, I landed in a warm embrace. My fourth father had caught me. We tumbled across the gravel shoulder, rolling twice before stopping. His furious voice exploded above my head. "Iris, have you lost your mind?!" I looked at him. Blood from a gash on his forehead was streaming down his face. I instinctively reached out to wipe it away. But my fourth father recoiled in disgust, his expression turning vicious: "Can you stop playing these games? You just want to see if I still care, don't you? Let me tell you — saving you means nothing. I'd save a stranger too. If I'd known this was your angle, I never would have jumped." "Next time you want to die, go ahead. I won't stop you." My hand froze in midair. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the river beyond the highway guardrail. I let out a bitter laugh. "Fine, Mr. Sterling. Remember what you just said." Before he could react, I was on my feet in an instant. Without looking back, I vaulted over the guardrail and threw myself into the water. My fourth father had nearly drowned in a swimming pool as a child. He was terrified of water. And after saying something that cruel, he definitely wouldn't come after me. So when the freezing river water rushed into my nose, I felt happy. *Finally — once they think I'm dead, I'll be free. I'll get to see Mother!* Chapter 3: Every Time They Saved Me, They Trapped Me Deeper I don't know how much time passed before the darkness lifted. Just as I was excitedly sitting up, thinking I'd find Mother, someone slapped me so hard I hit the floor. "You bitch! All we did was have you wash glasses and carry plates at the bar, and the second you see Liam, you pull this stunt! Do you know he almost drowned trying to save you?!" My third father Julian's voice came from above me. His face was ashen. Behind him stood Julian, hands in his pockets, watching me like I was some incomprehensible stranger. Of the four fathers, I'd been closest with my third father. The others were always busy, so the daily task of raising and educating me had fallen to him. He taught me to read and write. Taught me chemistry. Taught me to identify plants and compounds. He was the gentlest of them all. No matter how badly I messed up, he was patient. Never once punished me. But my third father — who never even raised his voice around me — hit me the very first day Bianca arrived. That day, Bianca had touched Julian's lab chemicals on her own. She insisted I'd put them on her. My third father took a belt and whipped me with it. "Iris, I failed you as a teacher. That's why you turned out this reckless — toying with people's lives." Later, when Bianca was poisoned again, my third father force-fed me an allergenic compound, then threw me into his university lab's hazardous materials room. Countless particles detonated inside my body. Even though Julian treated me afterward, I still lost all sensation in one leg. Seeing that I wasn't speaking, my third father assumed I was conceding guilt. His anger deepened. He raised his hand to hit me again. But my fourth father caught his wrist just in time. "Julian, calm down. Today Bianca is being formally designated as Sterling heir — of course she can't handle it. She's already tried to kill herself three times in front of me." *Tried to kill herself.* They thought I was suicidal. What they didn't know was that every time they "saved" me, they were trapping me deeper. I glanced at my fourth father. He'd changed clothes. His wounds were bandaged. But his face was paper-white. I remembered what my third father had just said. So it really was him who'd saved me. But my fourth father couldn't swim. I couldn't imagine how much it had cost him to pull me out of that water. My third father scoffed. "Liam, she played you. You've been away the past four years — she's pulled this act on us more times than I can count. It's just to get attention." My fourth father blinked, then exhaled a few seconds later as if relieved. "So that's all it is." Nolan pushed his glasses up and chimed in: "She's always been like this. Last time she stood at the edge of the rooftop in the school's main plaza, she had everyone fooled — students even filmed it and it went viral. Next day she was perfectly fine." His tone was flat. As if he were describing the weather. My third father turned back to me. "Iris, today is Bianca's birthday. You can throw your tantrum in front of the two of us, but don't you dare make a scene in front of Ethan and Marcus. You know how those two are—" Before he could finish, I was already lunging for the medicine cabinet behind him. I'd lived at my third father's place long enough to know exactly where he kept the dangerous drugs. I opened the cabinet, found the most toxic bottle inside. Took out the most lethal pill. Swallowed it without hesitation. My third father's face went white.
I was the only princess of Royal St. Ashford Academy — the girl with four fathers.After my mother died, her four childhood sweethearts found me still alive inside her belly.And so I ended up with four fathers. My first father, Ethan Sterling, was the head of a hundred-billion-dollar dynasty. He was also the sole trustee of Royal St. Ashford Academy, holding absolute authority over the institution. My second father, Marcus Sterling, was the commander of the world's largest private military corporation — his army could annihilate a small country with ease. My third father, Julian Sterling, was a universally recognized medical genius — the next Nobel Prize candidate. My fourth father, Liam Sterling, was the most feared legend in the underground fighting circuit — before he even turned seventeen, he had defeated thirty-three elite enforcers from criminal syndicates around the globe. I grew up drowning in the love of four fathers. No matter where I went, I was the center of everyone's envy. Until the year I turned eighteen, when the four fathers' shared daughter, Bianca White, was found and brought back. From that day on, these four men became entirely different people. Bianca said I'd verbally abused her. My second father injected me with a hallucinogenic drug — I stripped naked on the school rooftop like a lunatic and danced, then fell and shattered both my legs, missing prom entirely. A video of my naked dance spread across the school's network in minutes. When my first father saw it, he locked me — a girl with severe claustrophobia — in a pitch-black closet for three days and three nights. When I came out, I discovered that every honor I'd ever earned at school had been transferred to Bianca. She said I'd poisoned her. My third father, Julian, locked me inside his deadly fungal cultivation chamber. I became the perfect host for every pathogen inside — fungal hyphae burrowed through my pores and into my organs. Only when I was on the verge of death did they pull me out and blast me under cold water for an entire night, barely saving my life. But my right eye lost all its vision permanently. After Bianca cried yet again, claiming I'd tricked her into going to a bar where she was nearly attacked by dangerous men, my first father flew into a rage and threw me into an underground bar — where I became the lowest of the low: a stripper. For three years, I went from defiance to submission — because on my eighteenth birthday, my virginity was stolen by eighteen filthy strangers. From that day on, I was reduced to nothing more than the cheapest whore. Whenever my door opened, I instinctively spread my legs and lay back on the couch. That's when I heard a voice say: "Iris, would you like to come back to your mother?" ...... I jerked my head up. There was no one in the room. But the voice came again — I spotted a glowing screen on the floor. An unfamiliar yet somehow warm face appeared on the small display. She said her name was Helen, my mother's closest friend. She said my mother, Lillian, hadn't actually died that day. She'd been poisoned — a rare toxin that induced a death-like state — and then smuggled away by people who owed her their lives. And now she knew I was alive. She wanted to bring me home. The grief and pain I'd been suppressing broke free — I sobbed, crying out that I wanted to find my mother. But Helen's tone was tense. She said the Sterling family's reach was too vast. If they discovered Mother was still alive, they would track her down. The only safe way was to make everyone believe I was dead. "Only when you 'die' will they stop looking for you. Our people will extract you after your 'death.' Your mother is waiting on the other side." "Iris, even a faked death will be extremely painful — are you willing to —" Helen hadn't even finished her sentence before I was on my feet, grabbing a shard of glass from the broken mirror and pressing it to my throat without a moment's hesitation. *Yes!* Mother was alive! All I had to do was "die," and I could see her. Overwhelming joy drowned out every fear of death — this body had already endured too much. If "death" was the only way to reach Mother, I wouldn't hesitate for a second. But just as I was about to drag the glass across my skin, a massive force knocked it from my hand. The pain made me let go. The shard fell to the floor, and a foot stepped on it. "Iris, trying to kill yourself?" That familiar voice made me look up. When I saw who it was, I called out instinctively. "Fourth Father." The moment the word left my mouth, I regretted it. Sure enough, the man's brow furrowed at the title. "Don't call me that. I cut ties with you a long time ago." The person standing before me was Liam Sterling. When I was little, I'd been kidnapped by a rival family. He alone stormed into their compound, took three knife wounds without flinching, and carried me out without a scratch on me. After he rescued me, I cried so hard looking at his wounds that I couldn't breathe. But he just ruffled my hair and said those cuts didn't hurt at all. What hurt, he said, was watching me cry. Of the four fathers, the fourth was the one who loved me most. But that love vanished four years ago, when my second father Marcus brought an injured Bianca back from a school field trip. I'd always known my four fathers shared a single obsession — a woman they all loved. I just didn't know that woman wasn't my mother. It was Bianca's mother, Celine White. The truth was something I'd pieced together fragment by fragment: my mother, Lillian, grew up alongside the four Sterling brothers. Their father had been destroyed by a corporate conspiracy — framed, bankrupted, driven to an early grave. It was young Lillian who hid the four boys, placing each with a different guardian, a different mentor. They grew into their own. With Mother Lillian's help, they completed their revenge — Ethan reclaimed the family empire and cleared the Sterling name. Lillian and Ethan were supposed to be together. Childhood sweethearts — two hearts long promised to each other. But on the eve of the wedding, Celine White appeared. The moment she walked in, all four fathers' eyes shifted. After that, they called Lillian "jealous" and "unstable." They said she kept trying to hurt Celine. They said she eventually killed herself out of spite. After Mother's death, Celine disappeared too. It wasn't until Bianca appeared that the fathers learned — or thought they learned — the truth: Celine had left because she felt guilty about Lillian's death. Honestly? I never believed any of it. My gut told me Mother wasn't the villain. Celine was. But the fathers didn't trust my instincts. The brothers didn't either. They even thought I was just like my mother — petty, jealous, always competing for attention. So every time Bianca and I clashed, all eight of them stood on her side. Before long, I went from the most pampered princess of Ashford Prep to the lowest creature in an underground bar. My fourth father picked up the glass shard from the floor, glanced at the cut on my neck. Then his hand flicked, and the shard flew straight at me. I stumbled back two steps on instinct. The glass grazed my throat, leaving another thin red line. My fourth father let out a cold laugh: "If you really want to die, why'd you dodge?" "Iris, you're just like your mother — always hurting yourself to get attention." "At least she was smarter about it. She always performed in front of us. You picked this dump. Pathetic." Chapter 2: A Door Opened at 140 Km/h I was about to explain that I wasn't acting. But then I remembered — every explanation I'd ever given, they had never once listened. So I lowered my head. "You're absolutely right, Mr. Sterling. So what brings you all the way to a place like this — here just to watch my performance?" My fourth father paused. "Don't flatter yourself. Today is Bianca's birthday, and her heir designation ceremony. She recently said she's willing to forgive you and start fresh. I'm here to bring you." He added after a beat, "Ethan wants to see you too." I'd heard three days ago that my first father, Ethan, was going to formally designate Bianca as the Sterling family heir — the ceremony timed to her birthday, complete with a grand gala. I was a year older than her. *Sterling heir* — that was a title my first father had promised me when I was ten. If this had been the old me, I would have torn the whole thing down before letting anyone take what was mine. But now I just looked at my fourth father, expressionless. "I don't want to go." My fourth father stared for a moment, then said: "This isn't up to you." He grabbed my arm and dragged me out the door, shoved me into his car. He drove me to his place first — made me shower, changed my clothes — then headed for the Sterling estate. In the car, my fourth father wouldn't stop talking in my ear — telling me to be kind to Bianca, not to provoke her, not to think about bullying her. My heart ached with a dull, familiar pain. I watched the highway blur past outside the windows, faster and faster, and the desire to see Mother grew louder and louder in my head. Then I sat up, unbuckled my seatbelt, and at a hundred and forty kilometers per hour, I opened the car door. Before my feet left the car, I heard his scream. *At this speed,* I thought, *I'll definitely die.* But the expected pain never came. Instead, I landed in a warm embrace. My fourth father had caught me. We tumbled across the gravel shoulder, rolling twice before stopping. His furious voice exploded above my head. "Iris, have you lost your mind?!" I looked at him. Blood from a gash on his forehead was streaming down his face. I instinctively reached out to wipe it away. But my fourth father recoiled in disgust, his expression turning vicious: "Can you stop playing these games? You just want to see if I still care, don't you? Let me tell you — saving you means nothing. I'd save a stranger too. If I'd known this was your angle, I never would have jumped." "Next time you want to die, go ahead. I won't stop you." My hand froze in midair. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the river beyond the highway guardrail. I let out a bitter laugh. "Fine, Mr. Sterling. Remember what you just said." Before he could react, I was on my feet in an instant. Without looking back, I vaulted over the guardrail and threw myself into the water. My fourth father had nearly drowned in a swimming pool as a child. He was terrified of water. And after saying something that cruel, he definitely wouldn't come after me. So when the freezing river water rushed into my nose, I felt happy. *Finally — once they think I'm dead, I'll be free. I'll get to see Mother!* Chapter 3: Every Time They Saved Me, They Trapped Me Deeper I don't know how much time passed before the darkness lifted. Just as I was excitedly sitting up, thinking I'd find Mother, someone slapped me so hard I hit the floor. "You bitch! All we did was have you wash glasses and carry plates at the bar, and the second you see Liam, you pull this stunt! Do you know he almost drowned trying to save you?!" My third father Julian's voice came from above me. His face was ashen. Behind him stood Julian, hands in his pockets, watching me like I was some incomprehensible stranger. Of the four fathers, I'd been closest with my third father. The others were always busy, so the daily task of raising and educating me had fallen to him. He taught me to read and write. Taught me chemistry. Taught me to identify plants and compounds. He was the gentlest of them all. No matter how badly I messed up, he was patient. Never once punished me. But my third father — who never even raised his voice around me — hit me the very first day Bianca arrived. That day, Bianca had touched Julian's lab chemicals on her own. She insisted I'd put them on her. My third father took a belt and whipped me with it. "Iris, I failed you as a teacher. That's why you turned out this reckless — toying with people's lives." Later, when Bianca was poisoned again, my third father force-fed me an allergenic compound, then threw me into his university lab's hazardous materials room. Countless particles detonated inside my body. Even though Julian treated me afterward, I still lost all sensation in one leg. Seeing that I wasn't speaking, my third father assumed I was conceding guilt. His anger deepened. He raised his hand to hit me again. But my fourth father caught his wrist just in time. "Julian, calm down. Today Bianca is being formally designated as Sterling heir — of course she can't handle it. She's already tried to kill herself three times in front of me." *Tried to kill herself.* They thought I was suicidal. What they didn't know was that every time they "saved" me, they were trapping me deeper. I glanced at my fourth father. He'd changed clothes. His wounds were bandaged. But his face was paper-white. I remembered what my third father had just said. So it really was him who'd saved me. But my fourth father couldn't swim. I couldn't imagine how much it had cost him to pull me out of that water. My third father scoffed. "Liam, she played you. You've been away the past four years — she's pulled this act on us more times than I can count. It's just to get attention." My fourth father blinked, then exhaled a few seconds later as if relieved. "So that's all it is." Nolan pushed his glasses up and chimed in: "She's always been like this. Last time she stood at the edge of the rooftop in the school's main plaza, she had everyone fooled — students even filmed it and it went viral. Next day she was perfectly fine." His tone was flat. As if he were describing the weather. My third father turned back to me. "Iris, today is Bianca's birthday. You can throw your tantrum in front of the two of us, but don't you dare make a scene in front of Ethan and Marcus. You know how those two are—" Before he could finish, I was already lunging for the medicine cabinet behind him. I'd lived at my third father's place long enough to know exactly where he kept the dangerous drugs. I opened the cabinet, found the most toxic bottle inside. Took out the most lethal pill. Swallowed it without hesitation. My third father's face went white.
I was the only princess of Royal St. Ashford Academy — the girl with four fathers.After my mother died, her four childhood sweethearts found me still alive inside her belly.And so I ended up with four fathers. My first father, Ethan Sterling, was the head of a hundred-billion-dollar dynasty. He was also the sole trustee of Royal St. Ashford Academy, holding absolute authority over the institution. My second father, Marcus Sterling, was the commander of the world's largest private military corporation — his army could annihilate a small country with ease. My third father, Julian Sterling, was a universally recognized medical genius — the next Nobel Prize candidate. My fourth father, Liam Sterling, was the most feared legend in the underground fighting circuit — before he even turned seventeen, he had defeated thirty-three elite enforcers from criminal syndicates around the globe. I grew up drowning in the love of four fathers. No matter where I went, I was the center of everyone's envy. Until the year I turned eighteen, when the four fathers' shared daughter, Bianca White, was found and brought back. From that day on, these four men became entirely different people. Bianca said I'd verbally abused her. My second father injected me with a hallucinogenic drug — I stripped naked on the school rooftop like a lunatic and danced, then fell and shattered both my legs, missing prom entirely. A video of my naked dance spread across the school's network in minutes. When my first father saw it, he locked me — a girl with severe claustrophobia — in a pitch-black closet for three days and three nights. When I came out, I discovered that every honor I'd ever earned at school had been transferred to Bianca. She said I'd poisoned her. My third father, Julian, locked me inside his deadly fungal cultivation chamber. I became the perfect host for every pathogen inside — fungal hyphae burrowed through my pores and into my organs. Only when I was on the verge of death did they pull me out and blast me under cold water for an entire night, barely saving my life. But my right eye lost all its vision permanently. After Bianca cried yet again, claiming I'd tricked her into going to a bar where she was nearly attacked by dangerous men, my first father flew into a rage and threw me into an underground bar — where I became the lowest of the low: a stripper. For three years, I went from defiance to submission — because on my eighteenth birthday, my virginity was stolen by eighteen filthy strangers. From that day on, I was reduced to nothing more than the cheapest whore. Whenever my door opened, I instinctively spread my legs and lay back on the couch. That's when I heard a voice say: "Iris, would you like to come back to your mother?" ...... I jerked my head up. There was no one in the room. But the voice came again — I spotted a glowing screen on the floor. An unfamiliar yet somehow warm face appeared on the small display. She said her name was Helen, my mother's closest friend. She said my mother, Lillian, hadn't actually died that day. She'd been poisoned — a rare toxin that induced a death-like state — and then smuggled away by people who owed her their lives. And now she knew I was alive. She wanted to bring me home. The grief and pain I'd been suppressing broke free — I sobbed, crying out that I wanted to find my mother. But Helen's tone was tense. She said the Sterling family's reach was too vast. If they discovered Mother was still alive, they would track her down. The only safe way was to make everyone believe I was dead. "Only when you 'die' will they stop looking for you. Our people will extract you after your 'death.' Your mother is waiting on the other side." "Iris, even a faked death will be extremely painful — are you willing to —" Helen hadn't even finished her sentence before I was on my feet, grabbing a shard of glass from the broken mirror and pressing it to my throat without a moment's hesitation. *Yes!* Mother was alive! All I had to do was "die," and I could see her. Overwhelming joy drowned out every fear of death — this body had already endured too much. If "death" was the only way to reach Mother, I wouldn't hesitate for a second. But just as I was about to drag the glass across my skin, a massive force knocked it from my hand. The pain made me let go. The shard fell to the floor, and a foot stepped on it. "Iris, trying to kill yourself?" That familiar voice made me look up. When I saw who it was, I called out instinctively. "Fourth Father." The moment the word left my mouth, I regretted it. Sure enough, the man's brow furrowed at the title. "Don't call me that. I cut ties with you a long time ago." The person standing before me was Liam Sterling. When I was little, I'd been kidnapped by a rival family. He alone stormed into their compound, took three knife wounds without flinching, and carried me out without a scratch on me. After he rescued me, I cried so hard looking at his wounds that I couldn't breathe. But he just ruffled my hair and said those cuts didn't hurt at all. What hurt, he said, was watching me cry. Of the four fathers, the fourth was the one who loved me most. But that love vanished four years ago, when my second father Marcus brought an injured Bianca back from a school field trip. I'd always known my four fathers shared a single obsession — a woman they all loved. I just didn't know that woman wasn't my mother. It was Bianca's mother, Celine White. The truth was something I'd pieced together fragment by fragment: my mother, Lillian, grew up alongside the four Sterling brothers. Their father had been destroyed by a corporate conspiracy — framed, bankrupted, driven to an early grave. It was young Lillian who hid the four boys, placing each with a different guardian, a different mentor. They grew into their own. With Mother Lillian's help, they completed their revenge — Ethan reclaimed the family empire and cleared the Sterling name. Lillian and Ethan were supposed to be together. Childhood sweethearts — two hearts long promised to each other. But on the eve of the wedding, Celine White appeared. The moment she walked in, all four fathers' eyes shifted. After that, they called Lillian "jealous" and "unstable." They said she kept trying to hurt Celine. They said she eventually killed herself out of spite. After Mother's death, Celine disappeared too. It wasn't until Bianca appeared that the fathers learned — or thought they learned — the truth: Celine had left because she felt guilty about Lillian's death. Honestly? I never believed any of it. My gut told me Mother wasn't the villain. Celine was. But the fathers didn't trust my instincts. The brothers didn't either. They even thought I was just like my mother — petty, jealous, always competing for attention. So every time Bianca and I clashed, all eight of them stood on her side. Before long, I went from the most pampered princess of Ashford Prep to the lowest creature in an underground bar. My fourth father picked up the glass shard from the floor, glanced at the cut on my neck. Then his hand flicked, and the shard flew straight at me. I stumbled back two steps on instinct. The glass grazed my throat, leaving another thin red line. My fourth father let out a cold laugh: "If you really want to die, why'd you dodge?" "Iris, you're just like your mother — always hurting yourself to get attention." "At least she was smarter about it. She always performed in front of us. You picked this dump. Pathetic." Chapter 2: A Door Opened at 140 Km/h I was about to explain that I wasn't acting. But then I remembered — every explanation I'd ever given, they had never once listened. So I lowered my head. "You're absolutely right, Mr. Sterling. So what brings you all the way to a place like this — here just to watch my performance?" My fourth father paused. "Don't flatter yourself. Today is Bianca's birthday, and her heir designation ceremony. She recently said she's willing to forgive you and start fresh. I'm here to bring you." He added after a beat, "Ethan wants to see you too." I'd heard three days ago that my first father, Ethan, was going to formally designate Bianca as the Sterling family heir — the ceremony timed to her birthday, complete with a grand gala. I was a year older than her. *Sterling heir* — that was a title my first father had promised me when I was ten. If this had been the old me, I would have torn the whole thing down before letting anyone take what was mine. But now I just looked at my fourth father, expressionless. "I don't want to go." My fourth father stared for a moment, then said: "This isn't up to you." He grabbed my arm and dragged me out the door, shoved me into his car. He drove me to his place first — made me shower, changed my clothes — then headed for the Sterling estate. In the car, my fourth father wouldn't stop talking in my ear — telling me to be kind to Bianca, not to provoke her, not to think about bullying her. My heart ached with a dull, familiar pain. I watched the highway blur past outside the windows, faster and faster, and the desire to see Mother grew louder and louder in my head. Then I sat up, unbuckled my seatbelt, and at a hundred and forty kilometers per hour, I opened the car door. Before my feet left the car, I heard his scream. *At this speed,* I thought, *I'll definitely die.* But the expected pain never came. Instead, I landed in a warm embrace. My fourth father had caught me. We tumbled across the gravel shoulder, rolling twice before stopping. His furious voice exploded above my head. "Iris, have you lost your mind?!" I looked at him. Blood from a gash on his forehead was streaming down his face. I instinctively reached out to wipe it away. But my fourth father recoiled in disgust, his expression turning vicious: "Can you stop playing these games? You just want to see if I still care, don't you? Let me tell you — saving you means nothing. I'd save a stranger too. If I'd known this was your angle, I never would have jumped." "Next time you want to die, go ahead. I won't stop you." My hand froze in midair. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the river beyond the highway guardrail. I let out a bitter laugh. "Fine, Mr. Sterling. Remember what you just said." Before he could react, I was on my feet in an instant. Without looking back, I vaulted over the guardrail and threw myself into the water. My fourth father had nearly drowned in a swimming pool as a child. He was terrified of water. And after saying something that cruel, he definitely wouldn't come after me. So when the freezing river water rushed into my nose, I felt happy. *Finally — once they think I'm dead, I'll be free. I'll get to see Mother!* Chapter 3: Every Time They Saved Me, They Trapped Me Deeper I don't know how much time passed before the darkness lifted. Just as I was excitedly sitting up, thinking I'd find Mother, someone slapped me so hard I hit the floor. "You bitch! All we did was have you wash glasses and carry plates at the bar, and the second you see Liam, you pull this stunt! Do you know he almost drowned trying to save you?!" My third father Julian's voice came from above me. His face was ashen. Behind him stood Julian, hands in his pockets, watching me like I was some incomprehensible stranger. Of the four fathers, I'd been closest with my third father. The others were always busy, so the daily task of raising and educating me had fallen to him. He taught me to read and write. Taught me chemistry. Taught me to identify plants and compounds. He was the gentlest of them all. No matter how badly I messed up, he was patient. Never once punished me. But my third father — who never even raised his voice around me — hit me the very first day Bianca arrived. That day, Bianca had touched Julian's lab chemicals on her own. She insisted I'd put them on her. My third father took a belt and whipped me with it. "Iris, I failed you as a teacher. That's why you turned out this reckless — toying with people's lives." Later, when Bianca was poisoned again, my third father force-fed me an allergenic compound, then threw me into his university lab's hazardous materials room. Countless particles detonated inside my body. Even though Julian treated me afterward, I still lost all sensation in one leg. Seeing that I wasn't speaking, my third father assumed I was conceding guilt. His anger deepened. He raised his hand to hit me again. But my fourth father caught his wrist just in time. "Julian, calm down. Today Bianca is being formally designated as Sterling heir — of course she can't handle it. She's already tried to kill herself three times in front of me." *Tried to kill herself.* They thought I was suicidal. What they didn't know was that every time they "saved" me, they were trapping me deeper. I glanced at my fourth father. He'd changed clothes. His wounds were bandaged. But his face was paper-white. I remembered what my third father had just said. So it really was him who'd saved me. But my fourth father couldn't swim. I couldn't imagine how much it had cost him to pull me out of that water. My third father scoffed. "Liam, she played you. You've been away the past four years — she's pulled this act on us more times than I can count. It's just to get attention." My fourth father blinked, then exhaled a few seconds later as if relieved. "So that's all it is." Nolan pushed his glasses up and chimed in: "She's always been like this. Last time she stood at the edge of the rooftop in the school's main plaza, she had everyone fooled — students even filmed it and it went viral. Next day she was perfectly fine." His tone was flat. As if he were describing the weather. My third father turned back to me. "Iris, today is Bianca's birthday. You can throw your tantrum in front of the two of us, but don't you dare make a scene in front of Ethan and Marcus. You know how those two are—" Before he could finish, I was already lunging for the medicine cabinet behind him. I'd lived at my third father's place long enough to know exactly where he kept the dangerous drugs. I opened the cabinet, found the most toxic bottle inside. Took out the most lethal pill. Swallowed it without hesitation. My third father's face went white.
I was the only princess of Royal St. Ashford Academy — the girl with four fathers.After my mother died, her four childhood sweethearts found me still alive inside her belly.And so I ended up with four fathers. My first father, Ethan Sterling, was the head of a hundred-billion-dollar dynasty. He was also the sole trustee of Royal St. Ashford Academy, holding absolute authority over the institution. My second father, Marcus Sterling, was the commander of the world's largest private military corporation — his army could annihilate a small country with ease. My third father, Julian Sterling, was a universally recognized medical genius — the next Nobel Prize candidate. My fourth father, Liam Sterling, was the most feared legend in the underground fighting circuit — before he even turned seventeen, he had defeated thirty-three elite enforcers from criminal syndicates around the globe. I grew up drowning in the love of four fathers. No matter where I went, I was the center of everyone's envy. Until the year I turned eighteen, when the four fathers' shared daughter, Bianca White, was found and brought back. From that day on, these four men became entirely different people. Bianca said I'd verbally abused her. My second father injected me with a hallucinogenic drug — I stripped naked on the school rooftop like a lunatic and danced, then fell and shattered both my legs, missing prom entirely. A video of my naked dance spread across the school's network in minutes. When my first father saw it, he locked me — a girl with severe claustrophobia — in a pitch-black closet for three days and three nights. When I came out, I discovered that every honor I'd ever earned at school had been transferred to Bianca. She said I'd poisoned her. My third father, Julian, locked me inside his deadly fungal cultivation chamber. I became the perfect host for every pathogen inside — fungal hyphae burrowed through my pores and into my organs. Only when I was on the verge of death did they pull me out and blast me under cold water for an entire night, barely saving my life. But my right eye lost all its vision permanently. After Bianca cried yet again, claiming I'd tricked her into going to a bar where she was nearly attacked by dangerous men, my first father flew into a rage and threw me into an underground bar — where I became the lowest of the low: a stripper. For three years, I went from defiance to submission — because on my eighteenth birthday, my virginity was stolen by eighteen filthy strangers. From that day on, I was reduced to nothing more than the cheapest whore. Whenever my door opened, I instinctively spread my legs and lay back on the couch. That's when I heard a voice say: "Iris, would you like to come back to your mother?" ...... I jerked my head up. There was no one in the room. But the voice came again — I spotted a glowing screen on the floor. An unfamiliar yet somehow warm face appeared on the small display. She said her name was Helen, my mother's closest friend. She said my mother, Lillian, hadn't actually died that day. She'd been poisoned — a rare toxin that induced a death-like state — and then smuggled away by people who owed her their lives. And now she knew I was alive. She wanted to bring me home. The grief and pain I'd been suppressing broke free — I sobbed, crying out that I wanted to find my mother. But Helen's tone was tense. She said the Sterling family's reach was too vast. If they discovered Mother was still alive, they would track her down. The only safe way was to make everyone believe I was dead. "Only when you 'die' will they stop looking for you. Our people will extract you after your 'death.' Your mother is waiting on the other side." "Iris, even a faked death will be extremely painful — are you willing to —" Helen hadn't even finished her sentence before I was on my feet, grabbing a shard of glass from the broken mirror and pressing it to my throat without a moment's hesitation. *Yes!* Mother was alive! All I had to do was "die," and I could see her. Overwhelming joy drowned out every fear of death — this body had already endured too much. If "death" was the only way to reach Mother, I wouldn't hesitate for a second. But just as I was about to drag the glass across my skin, a massive force knocked it from my hand. The pain made me let go. The shard fell to the floor, and a foot stepped on it. "Iris, trying to kill yourself?" That familiar voice made me look up. When I saw who it was, I called out instinctively. "Fourth Father." The moment the word left my mouth, I regretted it. Sure enough, the man's brow furrowed at the title. "Don't call me that. I cut ties with you a long time ago." The person standing before me was Liam Sterling. When I was little, I'd been kidnapped by a rival family. He alone stormed into their compound, took three knife wounds without flinching, and carried me out without a scratch on me. After he rescued me, I cried so hard looking at his wounds that I couldn't breathe. But he just ruffled my hair and said those cuts didn't hurt at all. What hurt, he said, was watching me cry. Of the four fathers, the fourth was the one who loved me most. But that love vanished four years ago, when my second father Marcus brought an injured Bianca back from a school field trip. I'd always known my four fathers shared a single obsession — a woman they all loved. I just didn't know that woman wasn't my mother. It was Bianca's mother, Celine White. The truth was something I'd pieced together fragment by fragment: my mother, Lillian, grew up alongside the four Sterling brothers. Their father had been destroyed by a corporate conspiracy — framed, bankrupted, driven to an early grave. It was young Lillian who hid the four boys, placing each with a different guardian, a different mentor. They grew into their own. With Mother Lillian's help, they completed their revenge — Ethan reclaimed the family empire and cleared the Sterling name. Lillian and Ethan were supposed to be together. Childhood sweethearts — two hearts long promised to each other. But on the eve of the wedding, Celine White appeared. The moment she walked in, all four fathers' eyes shifted. After that, they called Lillian "jealous" and "unstable." They said she kept trying to hurt Celine. They said she eventually killed herself out of spite. After Mother's death, Celine disappeared too. It wasn't until Bianca appeared that the fathers learned — or thought they learned — the truth: Celine had left because she felt guilty about Lillian's death. Honestly? I never believed any of it. My gut told me Mother wasn't the villain. Celine was. But the fathers didn't trust my instincts. The brothers didn't either. They even thought I was just like my mother — petty, jealous, always competing for attention. So every time Bianca and I clashed, all eight of them stood on her side. Before long, I went from the most pampered princess of Ashford Prep to the lowest creature in an underground bar. My fourth father picked up the glass shard from the floor, glanced at the cut on my neck. Then his hand flicked, and the shard flew straight at me. I stumbled back two steps on instinct. The glass grazed my throat, leaving another thin red line. My fourth father let out a cold laugh: "If you really want to die, why'd you dodge?" "Iris, you're just like your mother — always hurting yourself to get attention." "At least she was smarter about it. She always performed in front of us. You picked this dump. Pathetic." Chapter 2: A Door Opened at 140 Km/h I was about to explain that I wasn't acting. But then I remembered — every explanation I'd ever given, they had never once listened. So I lowered my head. "You're absolutely right, Mr. Sterling. So what brings you all the way to a place like this — here just to watch my performance?" My fourth father paused. "Don't flatter yourself. Today is Bianca's birthday, and her heir designation ceremony. She recently said she's willing to forgive you and start fresh. I'm here to bring you." He added after a beat, "Ethan wants to see you too." I'd heard three days ago that my first father, Ethan, was going to formally designate Bianca as the Sterling family heir — the ceremony timed to her birthday, complete with a grand gala. I was a year older than her. *Sterling heir* — that was a title my first father had promised me when I was ten. If this had been the old me, I would have torn the whole thing down before letting anyone take what was mine. But now I just looked at my fourth father, expressionless. "I don't want to go." My fourth father stared for a moment, then said: "This isn't up to you." He grabbed my arm and dragged me out the door, shoved me into his car. He drove me to his place first — made me shower, changed my clothes — then headed for the Sterling estate. In the car, my fourth father wouldn't stop talking in my ear — telling me to be kind to Bianca, not to provoke her, not to think about bullying her. My heart ached with a dull, familiar pain. I watched the highway blur past outside the windows, faster and faster, and the desire to see Mother grew louder and louder in my head. Then I sat up, unbuckled my seatbelt, and at a hundred and forty kilometers per hour, I opened the car door. Before my feet left the car, I heard his scream. *At this speed,* I thought, *I'll definitely die.* But the expected pain never came. Instead, I landed in a warm embrace. My fourth father had caught me. We tumbled across the gravel shoulder, rolling twice before stopping. His furious voice exploded above my head. "Iris, have you lost your mind?!" I looked at him. Blood from a gash on his forehead was streaming down his face. I instinctively reached out to wipe it away. But my fourth father recoiled in disgust, his expression turning vicious: "Can you stop playing these games? You just want to see if I still care, don't you? Let me tell you — saving you means nothing. I'd save a stranger too. If I'd known this was your angle, I never would have jumped." "Next time you want to die, go ahead. I won't stop you." My hand froze in midair. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the river beyond the highway guardrail. I let out a bitter laugh. "Fine, Mr. Sterling. Remember what you just said." Before he could react, I was on my feet in an instant. Without looking back, I vaulted over the guardrail and threw myself into the water. My fourth father had nearly drowned in a swimming pool as a child. He was terrified of water. And after saying something that cruel, he definitely wouldn't come after me. So when the freezing river water rushed into my nose, I felt happy. *Finally — once they think I'm dead, I'll be free. I'll get to see Mother!* Chapter 3: Every Time They Saved Me, They Trapped Me Deeper I don't know how much time passed before the darkness lifted. Just as I was excitedly sitting up, thinking I'd find Mother, someone slapped me so hard I hit the floor. "You bitch! All we did was have you wash glasses and carry plates at the bar, and the second you see Liam, you pull this stunt! Do you know he almost drowned trying to save you?!" My third father Julian's voice came from above me. His face was ashen. Behind him stood Julian, hands in his pockets, watching me like I was some incomprehensible stranger. Of the four fathers, I'd been closest with my third father. The others were always busy, so the daily task of raising and educating me had fallen to him. He taught me to read and write. Taught me chemistry. Taught me to identify plants and compounds. He was the gentlest of them all. No matter how badly I messed up, he was patient. Never once punished me. But my third father — who never even raised his voice around me — hit me the very first day Bianca arrived. That day, Bianca had touched Julian's lab chemicals on her own. She insisted I'd put them on her. My third father took a belt and whipped me with it. "Iris, I failed you as a teacher. That's why you turned out this reckless — toying with people's lives." Later, when Bianca was poisoned again, my third father force-fed me an allergenic compound, then threw me into his university lab's hazardous materials room. Countless particles detonated inside my body. Even though Julian treated me afterward, I still lost all sensation in one leg. Seeing that I wasn't speaking, my third father assumed I was conceding guilt. His anger deepened. He raised his hand to hit me again. But my fourth father caught his wrist just in time. "Julian, calm down. Today Bianca is being formally designated as Sterling heir — of course she can't handle it. She's already tried to kill herself three times in front of me." *Tried to kill herself.* They thought I was suicidal. What they didn't know was that every time they "saved" me, they were trapping me deeper. I glanced at my fourth father. He'd changed clothes. His wounds were bandaged. But his face was paper-white. I remembered what my third father had just said. So it really was him who'd saved me. But my fourth father couldn't swim. I couldn't imagine how much it had cost him to pull me out of that water. My third father scoffed. "Liam, she played you. You've been away the past four years — she's pulled this act on us more times than I can count. It's just to get attention." My fourth father blinked, then exhaled a few seconds later as if relieved. "So that's all it is." Nolan pushed his glasses up and chimed in: "She's always been like this. Last time she stood at the edge of the rooftop in the school's main plaza, she had everyone fooled — students even filmed it and it went viral. Next day she was perfectly fine." His tone was flat. As if he were describing the weather. My third father turned back to me. "Iris, today is Bianca's birthday. You can throw your tantrum in front of the two of us, but don't you dare make a scene in front of Ethan and Marcus. You know how those two are—" Before he could finish, I was already lunging for the medicine cabinet behind him. I'd lived at my third father's place long enough to know exactly where he kept the dangerous drugs. I opened the cabinet, found the most toxic bottle inside. Took out the most lethal pill. Swallowed it without hesitation. My third father's face went white.
I was the only princess of Royal St. Ashford Academy — the girl with four fathers.After my mother died, her four childhood sweethearts found me still alive inside her belly.And so I ended up with four fathers. My first father, Ethan Sterling, was the head of a hundred-billion-dollar dynasty. He was also the sole trustee of Royal St. Ashford Academy, holding absolute authority over the institution. My second father, Marcus Sterling, was the commander of the world's largest private military corporation — his army could annihilate a small country with ease. My third father, Julian Sterling, was a universally recognized medical genius — the next Nobel Prize candidate. My fourth father, Liam Sterling, was the most feared legend in the underground fighting circuit — before he even turned seventeen, he had defeated thirty-three elite enforcers from criminal syndicates around the globe. I grew up drowning in the love of four fathers. No matter where I went, I was the center of everyone's envy. Until the year I turned eighteen, when the four fathers' shared daughter, Bianca White, was found and brought back. From that day on, these four men became entirely different people. Bianca said I'd verbally abused her. My second father injected me with a hallucinogenic drug — I stripped naked on the school rooftop like a lunatic and danced, then fell and shattered both my legs, missing prom entirely. A video of my naked dance spread across the school's network in minutes. When my first father saw it, he locked me — a girl with severe claustrophobia — in a pitch-black closet for three days and three nights. When I came out, I discovered that every honor I'd ever earned at school had been transferred to Bianca. She said I'd poisoned her. My third father, Julian, locked me inside his deadly fungal cultivation chamber. I became the perfect host for every pathogen inside — fungal hyphae burrowed through my pores and into my organs. Only when I was on the verge of death did they pull me out and blast me under cold water for an entire night, barely saving my life. But my right eye lost all its vision permanently. After Bianca cried yet again, claiming I'd tricked her into going to a bar where she was nearly attacked by dangerous men, my first father flew into a rage and threw me into an underground bar — where I became the lowest of the low: a stripper. For three years, I went from defiance to submission — because on my eighteenth birthday, my virginity was stolen by eighteen filthy strangers. From that day on, I was reduced to nothing more than the cheapest whore. Whenever my door opened, I instinctively spread my legs and lay back on the couch. That's when I heard a voice say: "Iris, would you like to come back to your mother?" ...... I jerked my head up. There was no one in the room. But the voice came again — I spotted a glowing screen on the floor. An unfamiliar yet somehow warm face appeared on the small display. She said her name was Helen, my mother's closest friend. She said my mother, Lillian, hadn't actually died that day. She'd been poisoned — a rare toxin that induced a death-like state — and then smuggled away by people who owed her their lives. And now she knew I was alive. She wanted to bring me home. The grief and pain I'd been suppressing broke free — I sobbed, crying out that I wanted to find my mother. But Helen's tone was tense. She said the Sterling family's reach was too vast. If they discovered Mother was still alive, they would track her down. The only safe way was to make everyone believe I was dead. "Only when you 'die' will they stop looking for you. Our people will extract you after your 'death.' Your mother is waiting on the other side." "Iris, even a faked death will be extremely painful — are you willing to —" Helen hadn't even finished her sentence before I was on my feet, grabbing a shard of glass from the broken mirror and pressing it to my throat without a moment's hesitation. *Yes!* Mother was alive! All I had to do was "die," and I could see her. Overwhelming joy drowned out every fear of death — this body had already endured too much. If "death" was the only way to reach Mother, I wouldn't hesitate for a second. But just as I was about to drag the glass across my skin, a massive force knocked it from my hand. The pain made me let go. The shard fell to the floor, and a foot stepped on it. "Iris, trying to kill yourself?" That familiar voice made me look up. When I saw who it was, I called out instinctively. "Fourth Father." The moment the word left my mouth, I regretted it. Sure enough, the man's brow furrowed at the title. "Don't call me that. I cut ties with you a long time ago." The person standing before me was Liam Sterling. When I was little, I'd been kidnapped by a rival family. He alone stormed into their compound, took three knife wounds without flinching, and carried me out without a scratch on me. After he rescued me, I cried so hard looking at his wounds that I couldn't breathe. But he just ruffled my hair and said those cuts didn't hurt at all. What hurt, he said, was watching me cry. Of the four fathers, the fourth was the one who loved me most. But that love vanished four years ago, when my second father Marcus brought an injured Bianca back from a school field trip. I'd always known my four fathers shared a single obsession — a woman they all loved. I just didn't know that woman wasn't my mother. It was Bianca's mother, Celine White. The truth was something I'd pieced together fragment by fragment: my mother, Lillian, grew up alongside the four Sterling brothers. Their father had been destroyed by a corporate conspiracy — framed, bankrupted, driven to an early grave. It was young Lillian who hid the four boys, placing each with a different guardian, a different mentor. They grew into their own. With Mother Lillian's help, they completed their revenge — Ethan reclaimed the family empire and cleared the Sterling name. Lillian and Ethan were supposed to be together. Childhood sweethearts — two hearts long promised to each other. But on the eve of the wedding, Celine White appeared. The moment she walked in, all four fathers' eyes shifted. After that, they called Lillian "jealous" and "unstable." They said she kept trying to hurt Celine. They said she eventually killed herself out of spite. After Mother's death, Celine disappeared too. It wasn't until Bianca appeared that the fathers learned — or thought they learned — the truth: Celine had left because she felt guilty about Lillian's death. Honestly? I never believed any of it. My gut told me Mother wasn't the villain. Celine was. But the fathers didn't trust my instincts. The brothers didn't either. They even thought I was just like my mother — petty, jealous, always competing for attention. So every time Bianca and I clashed, all eight of them stood on her side. Before long, I went from the most pampered princess of Ashford Prep to the lowest creature in an underground bar. My fourth father picked up the glass shard from the floor, glanced at the cut on my neck. Then his hand flicked, and the shard flew straight at me. I stumbled back two steps on instinct. The glass grazed my throat, leaving another thin red line. My fourth father let out a cold laugh: "If you really want to die, why'd you dodge?" "Iris, you're just like your mother — always hurting yourself to get attention." "At least she was smarter about it. She always performed in front of us. You picked this dump. Pathetic." Chapter 2: A Door Opened at 140 Km/h I was about to explain that I wasn't acting. But then I remembered — every explanation I'd ever given, they had never once listened. So I lowered my head. "You're absolutely right, Mr. Sterling. So what brings you all the way to a place like this — here just to watch my performance?" My fourth father paused. "Don't flatter yourself. Today is Bianca's birthday, and her heir designation ceremony. She recently said she's willing to forgive you and start fresh. I'm here to bring you." He added after a beat, "Ethan wants to see you too." I'd heard three days ago that my first father, Ethan, was going to formally designate Bianca as the Sterling family heir — the ceremony timed to her birthday, complete with a grand gala. I was a year older than her. *Sterling heir* — that was a title my first father had promised me when I was ten. If this had been the old me, I would have torn the whole thing down before letting anyone take what was mine. But now I just looked at my fourth father, expressionless. "I don't want to go." My fourth father stared for a moment, then said: "This isn't up to you." He grabbed my arm and dragged me out the door, shoved me into his car. He drove me to his place first — made me shower, changed my clothes — then headed for the Sterling estate. In the car, my fourth father wouldn't stop talking in my ear — telling me to be kind to Bianca, not to provoke her, not to think about bullying her. My heart ached with a dull, familiar pain. I watched the highway blur past outside the windows, faster and faster, and the desire to see Mother grew louder and louder in my head. Then I sat up, unbuckled my seatbelt, and at a hundred and forty kilometers per hour, I opened the car door. Before my feet left the car, I heard his scream. *At this speed,* I thought, *I'll definitely die.* But the expected pain never came. Instead, I landed in a warm embrace. My fourth father had caught me. We tumbled across the gravel shoulder, rolling twice before stopping. His furious voice exploded above my head. "Iris, have you lost your mind?!" I looked at him. Blood from a gash on his forehead was streaming down his face. I instinctively reached out to wipe it away. But my fourth father recoiled in disgust, his expression turning vicious: "Can you stop playing these games? You just want to see if I still care, don't you? Let me tell you — saving you means nothing. I'd save a stranger too. If I'd known this was your angle, I never would have jumped." "Next time you want to die, go ahead. I won't stop you." My hand froze in midair. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the river beyond the highway guardrail. I let out a bitter laugh. "Fine, Mr. Sterling. Remember what you just said." Before he could react, I was on my feet in an instant. Without looking back, I vaulted over the guardrail and threw myself into the water. My fourth father had nearly drowned in a swimming pool as a child. He was terrified of water. And after saying something that cruel, he definitely wouldn't come after me. So when the freezing river water rushed into my nose, I felt happy. *Finally — once they think I'm dead, I'll be free. I'll get to see Mother!* Chapter 3: Every Time They Saved Me, They Trapped Me Deeper I don't know how much time passed before the darkness lifted. Just as I was excitedly sitting up, thinking I'd find Mother, someone slapped me so hard I hit the floor. "You bitch! All we did was have you wash glasses and carry plates at the bar, and the second you see Liam, you pull this stunt! Do you know he almost drowned trying to save you?!" My third father Julian's voice came from above me. His face was ashen. Behind him stood Julian, hands in his pockets, watching me like I was some incomprehensible stranger. Of the four fathers, I'd been closest with my third father. The others were always busy, so the daily task of raising and educating me had fallen to him. He taught me to read and write. Taught me chemistry. Taught me to identify plants and compounds. He was the gentlest of them all. No matter how badly I messed up, he was patient. Never once punished me. But my third father — who never even raised his voice around me — hit me the very first day Bianca arrived. That day, Bianca had touched Julian's lab chemicals on her own. She insisted I'd put them on her. My third father took a belt and whipped me with it. "Iris, I failed you as a teacher. That's why you turned out this reckless — toying with people's lives." Later, when Bianca was poisoned again, my third father force-fed me an allergenic compound, then threw me into his university lab's hazardous materials room. Countless particles detonated inside my body. Even though Julian treated me afterward, I still lost all sensation in one leg. Seeing that I wasn't speaking, my third father assumed I was conceding guilt. His anger deepened. He raised his hand to hit me again. But my fourth father caught his wrist just in time. "Julian, calm down. Today Bianca is being formally designated as Sterling heir — of course she can't handle it. She's already tried to kill herself three times in front of me." *Tried to kill herself.* They thought I was suicidal. What they didn't know was that every time they "saved" me, they were trapping me deeper. I glanced at my fourth father. He'd changed clothes. His wounds were bandaged. But his face was paper-white. I remembered what my third father had just said. So it really was him who'd saved me. But my fourth father couldn't swim. I couldn't imagine how much it had cost him to pull me out of that water. My third father scoffed. "Liam, she played you. You've been away the past four years — she's pulled this act on us more times than I can count. It's just to get attention." My fourth father blinked, then exhaled a few seconds later as if relieved. "So that's all it is." Nolan pushed his glasses up and chimed in: "She's always been like this. Last time she stood at the edge of the rooftop in the school's main plaza, she had everyone fooled — students even filmed it and it went viral. Next day she was perfectly fine." His tone was flat. As if he were describing the weather. My third father turned back to me. "Iris, today is Bianca's birthday. You can throw your tantrum in front of the two of us, but don't you dare make a scene in front of Ethan and Marcus. You know how those two are—" Before he could finish, I was already lunging for the medicine cabinet behind him. I'd lived at my third father's place long enough to know exactly where he kept the dangerous drugs. I opened the cabinet, found the most toxic bottle inside. Took out the most lethal pill. Swallowed it without hesitation. My third father's face went white.
I was the only princess of Royal St. Ashford Academy — the girl with four fathers.After my mother died, her four childhood sweethearts found me still alive inside her belly.And so I ended up with four fathers. My first father, Ethan Sterling, was the head of a hundred-billion-dollar dynasty. He was also the sole trustee of Royal St. Ashford Academy, holding absolute authority over the institution. My second father, Marcus Sterling, was the commander of the world's largest private military corporation — his army could annihilate a small country with ease. My third father, Julian Sterling, was a universally recognized medical genius — the next Nobel Prize candidate. My fourth father, Liam Sterling, was the most feared legend in the underground fighting circuit — before he even turned seventeen, he had defeated thirty-three elite enforcers from criminal syndicates around the globe. I grew up drowning in the love of four fathers. No matter where I went, I was the center of everyone's envy. Until the year I turned eighteen, when the four fathers' shared daughter, Bianca White, was found and brought back. From that day on, these four men became entirely different people. Bianca said I'd verbally abused her. My second father injected me with a hallucinogenic drug — I stripped naked on the school rooftop like a lunatic and danced, then fell and shattered both my legs, missing prom entirely. A video of my naked dance spread across the school's network in minutes. When my first father saw it, he locked me — a girl with severe claustrophobia — in a pitch-black closet for three days and three nights. When I came out, I discovered that every honor I'd ever earned at school had been transferred to Bianca. She said I'd poisoned her. My third father, Julian, locked me inside his deadly fungal cultivation chamber. I became the perfect host for every pathogen inside — fungal hyphae burrowed through my pores and into my organs. Only when I was on the verge of death did they pull me out and blast me under cold water for an entire night, barely saving my life. But my right eye lost all its vision permanently. After Bianca cried yet again, claiming I'd tricked her into going to a bar where she was nearly attacked by dangerous men, my first father flew into a rage and threw me into an underground bar — where I became the lowest of the low: a stripper. For three years, I went from defiance to submission — because on my eighteenth birthday, my virginity was stolen by eighteen filthy strangers. From that day on, I was reduced to nothing more than the cheapest whore. Whenever my door opened, I instinctively spread my legs and lay back on the couch. That's when I heard a voice say: "Iris, would you like to come back to your mother?" ...... I jerked my head up. There was no one in the room. But the voice came again — I spotted a glowing screen on the floor. An unfamiliar yet somehow warm face appeared on the small display. She said her name was Helen, my mother's closest friend. She said my mother, Lillian, hadn't actually died that day. She'd been poisoned — a rare toxin that induced a death-like state — and then smuggled away by people who owed her their lives. And now she knew I was alive. She wanted to bring me home. The grief and pain I'd been suppressing broke free — I sobbed, crying out that I wanted to find my mother. But Helen's tone was tense. She said the Sterling family's reach was too vast. If they discovered Mother was still alive, they would track her down. The only safe way was to make everyone believe I was dead. "Only when you 'die' will they stop looking for you. Our people will extract you after your 'death.' Your mother is waiting on the other side." "Iris, even a faked death will be extremely painful — are you willing to —" Helen hadn't even finished her sentence before I was on my feet, grabbing a shard of glass from the broken mirror and pressing it to my throat without a moment's hesitation. *Yes!* Mother was alive! All I had to do was "die," and I could see her. Overwhelming joy drowned out every fear of death — this body had already endured too much. If "death" was the only way to reach Mother, I wouldn't hesitate for a second. But just as I was about to drag the glass across my skin, a massive force knocked it from my hand. The pain made me let go. The shard fell to the floor, and a foot stepped on it. "Iris, trying to kill yourself?" That familiar voice made me look up. When I saw who it was, I called out instinctively. "Fourth Father." The moment the word left my mouth, I regretted it. Sure enough, the man's brow furrowed at the title. "Don't call me that. I cut ties with you a long time ago." The person standing before me was Liam Sterling. When I was little, I'd been kidnapped by a rival family. He alone stormed into their compound, took three knife wounds without flinching, and carried me out without a scratch on me. After he rescued me, I cried so hard looking at his wounds that I couldn't breathe. But he just ruffled my hair and said those cuts didn't hurt at all. What hurt, he said, was watching me cry. Of the four fathers, the fourth was the one who loved me most. But that love vanished four years ago, when my second father Marcus brought an injured Bianca back from a school field trip. I'd always known my four fathers shared a single obsession — a woman they all loved. I just didn't know that woman wasn't my mother. It was Bianca's mother, Celine White. The truth was something I'd pieced together fragment by fragment: my mother, Lillian, grew up alongside the four Sterling brothers. Their father had been destroyed by a corporate conspiracy — framed, bankrupted, driven to an early grave. It was young Lillian who hid the four boys, placing each with a different guardian, a different mentor. They grew into their own. With Mother Lillian's help, they completed their revenge — Ethan reclaimed the family empire and cleared the Sterling name. Lillian and Ethan were supposed to be together. Childhood sweethearts — two hearts long promised to each other. But on the eve of the wedding, Celine White appeared. The moment she walked in, all four fathers' eyes shifted. After that, they called Lillian "jealous" and "unstable." They said she kept trying to hurt Celine. They said she eventually killed herself out of spite. After Mother's death, Celine disappeared too. It wasn't until Bianca appeared that the fathers learned — or thought they learned — the truth: Celine had left because she felt guilty about Lillian's death. Honestly? I never believed any of it. My gut told me Mother wasn't the villain. Celine was. But the fathers didn't trust my instincts. The brothers didn't either. They even thought I was just like my mother — petty, jealous, always competing for attention. So every time Bianca and I clashed, all eight of them stood on her side. Before long, I went from the most pampered princess of Ashford Prep to the lowest creature in an underground bar. My fourth father picked up the glass shard from the floor, glanced at the cut on my neck. Then his hand flicked, and the shard flew straight at me. I stumbled back two steps on instinct. The glass grazed my throat, leaving another thin red line. My fourth father let out a cold laugh: "If you really want to die, why'd you dodge?" "Iris, you're just like your mother — always hurting yourself to get attention." "At least she was smarter about it. She always performed in front of us. You picked this dump. Pathetic." Chapter 2: A Door Opened at 140 Km/h I was about to explain that I wasn't acting. But then I remembered — every explanation I'd ever given, they had never once listened. So I lowered my head. "You're absolutely right, Mr. Sterling. So what brings you all the way to a place like this — here just to watch my performance?" My fourth father paused. "Don't flatter yourself. Today is Bianca's birthday, and her heir designation ceremony. She recently said she's willing to forgive you and start fresh. I'm here to bring you." He added after a beat, "Ethan wants to see you too." I'd heard three days ago that my first father, Ethan, was going to formally designate Bianca as the Sterling family heir — the ceremony timed to her birthday, complete with a grand gala. I was a year older than her. *Sterling heir* — that was a title my first father had promised me when I was ten. If this had been the old me, I would have torn the whole thing down before letting anyone take what was mine. But now I just looked at my fourth father, expressionless. "I don't want to go." My fourth father stared for a moment, then said: "This isn't up to you." He grabbed my arm and dragged me out the door, shoved me into his car. He drove me to his place first — made me shower, changed my clothes — then headed for the Sterling estate. In the car, my fourth father wouldn't stop talking in my ear — telling me to be kind to Bianca, not to provoke her, not to think about bullying her. My heart ached with a dull, familiar pain. I watched the highway blur past outside the windows, faster and faster, and the desire to see Mother grew louder and louder in my head. Then I sat up, unbuckled my seatbelt, and at a hundred and forty kilometers per hour, I opened the car door. Before my feet left the car, I heard his scream. *At this speed,* I thought, *I'll definitely die.* But the expected pain never came. Instead, I landed in a warm embrace. My fourth father had caught me. We tumbled across the gravel shoulder, rolling twice before stopping. His furious voice exploded above my head. "Iris, have you lost your mind?!" I looked at him. Blood from a gash on his forehead was streaming down his face. I instinctively reached out to wipe it away. But my fourth father recoiled in disgust, his expression turning vicious: "Can you stop playing these games? You just want to see if I still care, don't you? Let me tell you — saving you means nothing. I'd save a stranger too. If I'd known this was your angle, I never would have jumped." "Next time you want to die, go ahead. I won't stop you." My hand froze in midair. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the river beyond the highway guardrail. I let out a bitter laugh. "Fine, Mr. Sterling. Remember what you just said." Before he could react, I was on my feet in an instant. Without looking back, I vaulted over the guardrail and threw myself into the water. My fourth father had nearly drowned in a swimming pool as a child. He was terrified of water. And after saying something that cruel, he definitely wouldn't come after me. So when the freezing river water rushed into my nose, I felt happy. *Finally — once they think I'm dead, I'll be free. I'll get to see Mother!* Chapter 3: Every Time They Saved Me, They Trapped Me Deeper I don't know how much time passed before the darkness lifted. Just as I was excitedly sitting up, thinking I'd find Mother, someone slapped me so hard I hit the floor. "You bitch! All we did was have you wash glasses and carry plates at the bar, and the second you see Liam, you pull this stunt! Do you know he almost drowned trying to save you?!" My third father Julian's voice came from above me. His face was ashen. Behind him stood Julian, hands in his pockets, watching me like I was some incomprehensible stranger. Of the four fathers, I'd been closest with my third father. The others were always busy, so the daily task of raising and educating me had fallen to him. He taught me to read and write. Taught me chemistry. Taught me to identify plants and compounds. He was the gentlest of them all. No matter how badly I messed up, he was patient. Never once punished me. But my third father — who never even raised his voice around me — hit me the very first day Bianca arrived. That day, Bianca had touched Julian's lab chemicals on her own. She insisted I'd put them on her. My third father took a belt and whipped me with it. "Iris, I failed you as a teacher. That's why you turned out this reckless — toying with people's lives." Later, when Bianca was poisoned again, my third father force-fed me an allergenic compound, then threw me into his university lab's hazardous materials room. Countless particles detonated inside my body. Even though Julian treated me afterward, I still lost all sensation in one leg. Seeing that I wasn't speaking, my third father assumed I was conceding guilt. His anger deepened. He raised his hand to hit me again. But my fourth father caught his wrist just in time. "Julian, calm down. Today Bianca is being formally designated as Sterling heir — of course she can't handle it. She's already tried to kill herself three times in front of me." *Tried to kill herself.* They thought I was suicidal. What they didn't know was that every time they "saved" me, they were trapping me deeper. I glanced at my fourth father. He'd changed clothes. His wounds were bandaged. But his face was paper-white. I remembered what my third father had just said. So it really was him who'd saved me. But my fourth father couldn't swim. I couldn't imagine how much it had cost him to pull me out of that water. My third father scoffed. "Liam, she played you. You've been away the past four years — she's pulled this act on us more times than I can count. It's just to get attention." My fourth father blinked, then exhaled a few seconds later as if relieved. "So that's all it is." Nolan pushed his glasses up and chimed in: "She's always been like this. Last time she stood at the edge of the rooftop in the school's main plaza, she had everyone fooled — students even filmed it and it went viral. Next day she was perfectly fine." His tone was flat. As if he were describing the weather. My third father turned back to me. "Iris, today is Bianca's birthday. You can throw your tantrum in front of the two of us, but don't you dare make a scene in front of Ethan and Marcus. You know how those two are—" Before he could finish, I was already lunging for the medicine cabinet behind him. I'd lived at my third father's place long enough to know exactly where he kept the dangerous drugs. I opened the cabinet, found the most toxic bottle inside. Took out the most lethal pill. Swallowed it without hesitation. My third father's face went white.
I was the only princess of Royal St. Ashford Academy — the girl with four fathers.After my mother died, her four childhood sweethearts found me still alive inside her belly.And so I ended up with four fathers. My first father, Ethan Sterling, was the head of a hundred-billion-dollar dynasty. He was also the sole trustee of Royal St. Ashford Academy, holding absolute authority over the institution. My second father, Marcus Sterling, was the commander of the world's largest private military corporation — his army could annihilate a small country with ease. My third father, Julian Sterling, was a universally recognized medical genius — the next Nobel Prize candidate. My fourth father, Liam Sterling, was the most feared legend in the underground fighting circuit — before he even turned seventeen, he had defeated thirty-three elite enforcers from criminal syndicates around the globe. I grew up drowning in the love of four fathers. No matter where I went, I was the center of everyone's envy. Until the year I turned eighteen, when the four fathers' shared daughter, Bianca White, was found and brought back. From that day on, these four men became entirely different people. Bianca said I'd verbally abused her. My second father injected me with a hallucinogenic drug — I stripped naked on the school rooftop like a lunatic and danced, then fell and shattered both my legs, missing prom entirely. A video of my naked dance spread across the school's network in minutes. When my first father saw it, he locked me — a girl with severe claustrophobia — in a pitch-black closet for three days and three nights. When I came out, I discovered that every honor I'd ever earned at school had been transferred to Bianca. She said I'd poisoned her. My third father, Julian, locked me inside his deadly fungal cultivation chamber. I became the perfect host for every pathogen inside — fungal hyphae burrowed through my pores and into my organs. Only when I was on the verge of death did they pull me out and blast me under cold water for an entire night, barely saving my life. But my right eye lost all its vision permanently. After Bianca cried yet again, claiming I'd tricked her into going to a bar where she was nearly attacked by dangerous men, my first father flew into a rage and threw me into an underground bar — where I became the lowest of the low: a stripper. For three years, I went from defiance to submission — because on my eighteenth birthday, my virginity was stolen by eighteen filthy strangers. From that day on, I was reduced to nothing more than the cheapest whore. Whenever my door opened, I instinctively spread my legs and lay back on the couch. That's when I heard a voice say: "Iris, would you like to come back to your mother?" ...... I jerked my head up. There was no one in the room. But the voice came again — I spotted a glowing screen on the floor. An unfamiliar yet somehow warm face appeared on the small display. She said her name was Helen, my mother's closest friend. She said my mother, Lillian, hadn't actually died that day. She'd been poisoned — a rare toxin that induced a death-like state — and then smuggled away by people who owed her their lives. And now she knew I was alive. She wanted to bring me home. The grief and pain I'd been suppressing broke free — I sobbed, crying out that I wanted to find my mother. But Helen's tone was tense. She said the Sterling family's reach was too vast. If they discovered Mother was still alive, they would track her down. The only safe way was to make everyone believe I was dead. "Only when you 'die' will they stop looking for you. Our people will extract you after your 'death.' Your mother is waiting on the other side." "Iris, even a faked death will be extremely painful — are you willing to —" Helen hadn't even finished her sentence before I was on my feet, grabbing a shard of glass from the broken mirror and pressing it to my throat without a moment's hesitation. *Yes!* Mother was alive! All I had to do was "die," and I could see her. Overwhelming joy drowned out every fear of death — this body had already endured too much. If "death" was the only way to reach Mother, I wouldn't hesitate for a second. But just as I was about to drag the glass across my skin, a massive force knocked it from my hand. The pain made me let go. The shard fell to the floor, and a foot stepped on it. "Iris, trying to kill yourself?" That familiar voice made me look up. When I saw who it was, I called out instinctively. "Fourth Father." The moment the word left my mouth, I regretted it. Sure enough, the man's brow furrowed at the title. "Don't call me that. I cut ties with you a long time ago." The person standing before me was Liam Sterling. When I was little, I'd been kidnapped by a rival family. He alone stormed into their compound, took three knife wounds without flinching, and carried me out without a scratch on me. After he rescued me, I cried so hard looking at his wounds that I couldn't breathe. But he just ruffled my hair and said those cuts didn't hurt at all. What hurt, he said, was watching me cry. Of the four fathers, the fourth was the one who loved me most. But that love vanished four years ago, when my second father Marcus brought an injured Bianca back from a school field trip. I'd always known my four fathers shared a single obsession — a woman they all loved. I just didn't know that woman wasn't my mother. It was Bianca's mother, Celine White. The truth was something I'd pieced together fragment by fragment: my mother, Lillian, grew up alongside the four Sterling brothers. Their father had been destroyed by a corporate conspiracy — framed, bankrupted, driven to an early grave. It was young Lillian who hid the four boys, placing each with a different guardian, a different mentor. They grew into their own. With Mother Lillian's help, they completed their revenge — Ethan reclaimed the family empire and cleared the Sterling name. Lillian and Ethan were supposed to be together. Childhood sweethearts — two hearts long promised to each other. But on the eve of the wedding, Celine White appeared. The moment she walked in, all four fathers' eyes shifted. After that, they called Lillian "jealous" and "unstable." They said she kept trying to hurt Celine. They said she eventually killed herself out of spite. After Mother's death, Celine disappeared too. It wasn't until Bianca appeared that the fathers learned — or thought they learned — the truth: Celine had left because she felt guilty about Lillian's death. Honestly? I never believed any of it. My gut told me Mother wasn't the villain. Celine was. But the fathers didn't trust my instincts. The brothers didn't either. They even thought I was just like my mother — petty, jealous, always competing for attention. So every time Bianca and I clashed, all eight of them stood on her side. Before long, I went from the most pampered princess of Ashford Prep to the lowest creature in an underground bar. My fourth father picked up the glass shard from the floor, glanced at the cut on my neck. Then his hand flicked, and the shard flew straight at me. I stumbled back two steps on instinct. The glass grazed my throat, leaving another thin red line. My fourth father let out a cold laugh: "If you really want to die, why'd you dodge?" "Iris, you're just like your mother — always hurting yourself to get attention." "At least she was smarter about it. She always performed in front of us. You picked this dump. Pathetic." Chapter 2: A Door Opened at 140 Km/h I was about to explain that I wasn't acting. But then I remembered — every explanation I'd ever given, they had never once listened. So I lowered my head. "You're absolutely right, Mr. Sterling. So what brings you all the way to a place like this — here just to watch my performance?" My fourth father paused. "Don't flatter yourself. Today is Bianca's birthday, and her heir designation ceremony. She recently said she's willing to forgive you and start fresh. I'm here to bring you." He added after a beat, "Ethan wants to see you too." I'd heard three days ago that my first father, Ethan, was going to formally designate Bianca as the Sterling family heir — the ceremony timed to her birthday, complete with a grand gala. I was a year older than her. *Sterling heir* — that was a title my first father had promised me when I was ten. If this had been the old me, I would have torn the whole thing down before letting anyone take what was mine. But now I just looked at my fourth father, expressionless. "I don't want to go." My fourth father stared for a moment, then said: "This isn't up to you." He grabbed my arm and dragged me out the door, shoved me into his car. He drove me to his place first — made me shower, changed my clothes — then headed for the Sterling estate. In the car, my fourth father wouldn't stop talking in my ear — telling me to be kind to Bianca, not to provoke her, not to think about bullying her. My heart ached with a dull, familiar pain. I watched the highway blur past outside the windows, faster and faster, and the desire to see Mother grew louder and louder in my head. Then I sat up, unbuckled my seatbelt, and at a hundred and forty kilometers per hour, I opened the car door. Before my feet left the car, I heard his scream. *At this speed,* I thought, *I'll definitely die.* But the expected pain never came. Instead, I landed in a warm embrace. My fourth father had caught me. We tumbled across the gravel shoulder, rolling twice before stopping. His furious voice exploded above my head. "Iris, have you lost your mind?!" I looked at him. Blood from a gash on his forehead was streaming down his face. I instinctively reached out to wipe it away. But my fourth father recoiled in disgust, his expression turning vicious: "Can you stop playing these games? You just want to see if I still care, don't you? Let me tell you — saving you means nothing. I'd save a stranger too. If I'd known this was your angle, I never would have jumped." "Next time you want to die, go ahead. I won't stop you." My hand froze in midair. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the river beyond the highway guardrail. I let out a bitter laugh. "Fine, Mr. Sterling. Remember what you just said." Before he could react, I was on my feet in an instant. Without looking back, I vaulted over the guardrail and threw myself into the water. My fourth father had nearly drowned in a swimming pool as a child. He was terrified of water. And after saying something that cruel, he definitely wouldn't come after me. So when the freezing river water rushed into my nose, I felt happy. *Finally — once they think I'm dead, I'll be free. I'll get to see Mother!* Chapter 3: Every Time They Saved Me, They Trapped Me Deeper I don't know how much time passed before the darkness lifted. Just as I was excitedly sitting up, thinking I'd find Mother, someone slapped me so hard I hit the floor. "You bitch! All we did was have you wash glasses and carry plates at the bar, and the second you see Liam, you pull this stunt! Do you know he almost drowned trying to save you?!" My third father Julian's voice came from above me. His face was ashen. Behind him stood Julian, hands in his pockets, watching me like I was some incomprehensible stranger. Of the four fathers, I'd been closest with my third father. The others were always busy, so the daily task of raising and educating me had fallen to him. He taught me to read and write. Taught me chemistry. Taught me to identify plants and compounds. He was the gentlest of them all. No matter how badly I messed up, he was patient. Never once punished me. But my third father — who never even raised his voice around me — hit me the very first day Bianca arrived. That day, Bianca had touched Julian's lab chemicals on her own. She insisted I'd put them on her. My third father took a belt and whipped me with it. "Iris, I failed you as a teacher. That's why you turned out this reckless — toying with people's lives." Later, when Bianca was poisoned again, my third father force-fed me an allergenic compound, then threw me into his university lab's hazardous materials room. Countless particles detonated inside my body. Even though Julian treated me afterward, I still lost all sensation in one leg. Seeing that I wasn't speaking, my third father assumed I was conceding guilt. His anger deepened. He raised his hand to hit me again. But my fourth father caught his wrist just in time. "Julian, calm down. Today Bianca is being formally designated as Sterling heir — of course she can't handle it. She's already tried to kill herself three times in front of me." *Tried to kill herself.* They thought I was suicidal. What they didn't know was that every time they "saved" me, they were trapping me deeper. I glanced at my fourth father. He'd changed clothes. His wounds were bandaged. But his face was paper-white. I remembered what my third father had just said. So it really was him who'd saved me. But my fourth father couldn't swim. I couldn't imagine how much it had cost him to pull me out of that water. My third father scoffed. "Liam, she played you. You've been away the past four years — she's pulled this act on us more times than I can count. It's just to get attention." My fourth father blinked, then exhaled a few seconds later as if relieved. "So that's all it is." Nolan pushed his glasses up and chimed in: "She's always been like this. Last time she stood at the edge of the rooftop in the school's main plaza, she had everyone fooled — students even filmed it and it went viral. Next day she was perfectly fine." His tone was flat. As if he were describing the weather. My third father turned back to me. "Iris, today is Bianca's birthday. You can throw your tantrum in front of the two of us, but don't you dare make a scene in front of Ethan and Marcus. You know how those two are—" Before he could finish, I was already lunging for the medicine cabinet behind him. I'd lived at my third father's place long enough to know exactly where he kept the dangerous drugs. I opened the cabinet, found the most toxic bottle inside. Took out the most lethal pill. Swallowed it without hesitation. My third father's face went white.
I was the only princess of Royal St. Ashford Academy — the girl with four fathers.After my mother died, her four childhood sweethearts found me still alive inside her belly.And so I ended up with four fathers. My first father, Ethan Sterling, was the head of a hundred-billion-dollar dynasty. He was also the sole trustee of Royal St. Ashford Academy, holding absolute authority over the institution. My second father, Marcus Sterling, was the commander of the world's largest private military corporation — his army could annihilate a small country with ease. My third father, Julian Sterling, was a universally recognized medical genius — the next Nobel Prize candidate. My fourth father, Liam Sterling, was the most feared legend in the underground fighting circuit — before he even turned seventeen, he had defeated thirty-three elite enforcers from criminal syndicates around the globe. I grew up drowning in the love of four fathers. No matter where I went, I was the center of everyone's envy. Until the year I turned eighteen, when the four fathers' shared daughter, Bianca White, was found and brought back. From that day on, these four men became entirely different people. Bianca said I'd verbally abused her. My second father injected me with a hallucinogenic drug — I stripped naked on the school rooftop like a lunatic and danced, then fell and shattered both my legs, missing prom entirely. A video of my naked dance spread across the school's network in minutes. When my first father saw it, he locked me — a girl with severe claustrophobia — in a pitch-black closet for three days and three nights. When I came out, I discovered that every honor I'd ever earned at school had been transferred to Bianca. She said I'd poisoned her. My third father, Julian, locked me inside his deadly fungal cultivation chamber. I became the perfect host for every pathogen inside — fungal hyphae burrowed through my pores and into my organs. Only when I was on the verge of death did they pull me out and blast me under cold water for an entire night, barely saving my life. But my right eye lost all its vision permanently. After Bianca cried yet again, claiming I'd tricked her into going to a bar where she was nearly attacked by dangerous men, my first father flew into a rage and threw me into an underground bar — where I became the lowest of the low: a stripper. For three years, I went from defiance to submission — because on my eighteenth birthday, my virginity was stolen by eighteen filthy strangers. From that day on, I was reduced to nothing more than the cheapest whore. Whenever my door opened, I instinctively spread my legs and lay back on the couch. That's when I heard a voice say: "Iris, would you like to come back to your mother?" ...... I jerked my head up. There was no one in the room. But the voice came again — I spotted a glowing screen on the floor. An unfamiliar yet somehow warm face appeared on the small display. She said her name was Helen, my mother's closest friend. She said my mother, Lillian, hadn't actually died that day. She'd been poisoned — a rare toxin that induced a death-like state — and then smuggled away by people who owed her their lives. And now she knew I was alive. She wanted to bring me home. The grief and pain I'd been suppressing broke free — I sobbed, crying out that I wanted to find my mother. But Helen's tone was tense. She said the Sterling family's reach was too vast. If they discovered Mother was still alive, they would track her down. The only safe way was to make everyone believe I was dead. "Only when you 'die' will they stop looking for you. Our people will extract you after your 'death.' Your mother is waiting on the other side." "Iris, even a faked death will be extremely painful — are you willing to —" Helen hadn't even finished her sentence before I was on my feet, grabbing a shard of glass from the broken mirror and pressing it to my throat without a moment's hesitation. *Yes!* Mother was alive! All I had to do was "die," and I could see her. Overwhelming joy drowned out every fear of death — this body had already endured too much. If "death" was the only way to reach Mother, I wouldn't hesitate for a second. But just as I was about to drag the glass across my skin, a massive force knocked it from my hand. The pain made me let go. The shard fell to the floor, and a foot stepped on it. "Iris, trying to kill yourself?" That familiar voice made me look up. When I saw who it was, I called out instinctively. "Fourth Father." The moment the word left my mouth, I regretted it. Sure enough, the man's brow furrowed at the title. "Don't call me that. I cut ties with you a long time ago." The person standing before me was Liam Sterling. When I was little, I'd been kidnapped by a rival family. He alone stormed into their compound, took three knife wounds without flinching, and carried me out without a scratch on me. After he rescued me, I cried so hard looking at his wounds that I couldn't breathe. But he just ruffled my hair and said those cuts didn't hurt at all. What hurt, he said, was watching me cry. Of the four fathers, the fourth was the one who loved me most. But that love vanished four years ago, when my second father Marcus brought an injured Bianca back from a school field trip. I'd always known my four fathers shared a single obsession — a woman they all loved. I just didn't know that woman wasn't my mother. It was Bianca's mother, Celine White. The truth was something I'd pieced together fragment by fragment: my mother, Lillian, grew up alongside the four Sterling brothers. Their father had been destroyed by a corporate conspiracy — framed, bankrupted, driven to an early grave. It was young Lillian who hid the four boys, placing each with a different guardian, a different mentor. They grew into their own. With Mother Lillian's help, they completed their revenge — Ethan reclaimed the family empire and cleared the Sterling name. Lillian and Ethan were supposed to be together. Childhood sweethearts — two hearts long promised to each other. But on the eve of the wedding, Celine White appeared. The moment she walked in, all four fathers' eyes shifted. After that, they called Lillian "jealous" and "unstable." They said she kept trying to hurt Celine. They said she eventually killed herself out of spite. After Mother's death, Celine disappeared too. It wasn't until Bianca appeared that the fathers learned — or thought they learned — the truth: Celine had left because she felt guilty about Lillian's death. Honestly? I never believed any of it. My gut told me Mother wasn't the villain. Celine was. But the fathers didn't trust my instincts. The brothers didn't either. They even thought I was just like my mother — petty, jealous, always competing for attention. So every time Bianca and I clashed, all eight of them stood on her side. Before long, I went from the most pampered princess of Ashford Prep to the lowest creature in an underground bar. My fourth father picked up the glass shard from the floor, glanced at the cut on my neck. Then his hand flicked, and the shard flew straight at me. I stumbled back two steps on instinct. The glass grazed my throat, leaving another thin red line. My fourth father let out a cold laugh: "If you really want to die, why'd you dodge?" "Iris, you're just like your mother — always hurting yourself to get attention." "At least she was smarter about it. She always performed in front of us. You picked this dump. Pathetic." Chapter 2: A Door Opened at 140 Km/h I was about to explain that I wasn't acting. But then I remembered — every explanation I'd ever given, they had never once listened. So I lowered my head. "You're absolutely right, Mr. Sterling. So what brings you all the way to a place like this — here just to watch my performance?" My fourth father paused. "Don't flatter yourself. Today is Bianca's birthday, and her heir designation ceremony. She recently said she's willing to forgive you and start fresh. I'm here to bring you." He added after a beat, "Ethan wants to see you too." I'd heard three days ago that my first father, Ethan, was going to formally designate Bianca as the Sterling family heir — the ceremony timed to her birthday, complete with a grand gala. I was a year older than her. *Sterling heir* — that was a title my first father had promised me when I was ten. If this had been the old me, I would have torn the whole thing down before letting anyone take what was mine. But now I just looked at my fourth father, expressionless. "I don't want to go." My fourth father stared for a moment, then said: "This isn't up to you." He grabbed my arm and dragged me out the door, shoved me into his car. He drove me to his place first — made me shower, changed my clothes — then headed for the Sterling estate. In the car, my fourth father wouldn't stop talking in my ear — telling me to be kind to Bianca, not to provoke her, not to think about bullying her. My heart ached with a dull, familiar pain. I watched the highway blur past outside the windows, faster and faster, and the desire to see Mother grew louder and louder in my head. Then I sat up, unbuckled my seatbelt, and at a hundred and forty kilometers per hour, I opened the car door. Before my feet left the car, I heard his scream. *At this speed,* I thought, *I'll definitely die.* But the expected pain never came. Instead, I landed in a warm embrace. My fourth father had caught me. We tumbled across the gravel shoulder, rolling twice before stopping. His furious voice exploded above my head. "Iris, have you lost your mind?!" I looked at him. Blood from a gash on his forehead was streaming down his face. I instinctively reached out to wipe it away. But my fourth father recoiled in disgust, his expression turning vicious: "Can you stop playing these games? You just want to see if I still care, don't you? Let me tell you — saving you means nothing. I'd save a stranger too. If I'd known this was your angle, I never would have jumped." "Next time you want to die, go ahead. I won't stop you." My hand froze in midair. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the river beyond the highway guardrail. I let out a bitter laugh. "Fine, Mr. Sterling. Remember what you just said." Before he could react, I was on my feet in an instant. Without looking back, I vaulted over the guardrail and threw myself into the water. My fourth father had nearly drowned in a swimming pool as a child. He was terrified of water. And after saying something that cruel, he definitely wouldn't come after me. So when the freezing river water rushed into my nose, I felt happy. *Finally — once they think I'm dead, I'll be free. I'll get to see Mother!* Chapter 3: Every Time They Saved Me, They Trapped Me Deeper I don't know how much time passed before the darkness lifted. Just as I was excitedly sitting up, thinking I'd find Mother, someone slapped me so hard I hit the floor. "You bitch! All we did was have you wash glasses and carry plates at the bar, and the second you see Liam, you pull this stunt! Do you know he almost drowned trying to save you?!" My third father Julian's voice came from above me. His face was ashen. Behind him stood Julian, hands in his pockets, watching me like I was some incomprehensible stranger. Of the four fathers, I'd been closest with my third father. The others were always busy, so the daily task of raising and educating me had fallen to him. He taught me to read and write. Taught me chemistry. Taught me to identify plants and compounds. He was the gentlest of them all. No matter how badly I messed up, he was patient. Never once punished me. But my third father — who never even raised his voice around me — hit me the very first day Bianca arrived. That day, Bianca had touched Julian's lab chemicals on her own. She insisted I'd put them on her. My third father took a belt and whipped me with it. "Iris, I failed you as a teacher. That's why you turned out this reckless — toying with people's lives." Later, when Bianca was poisoned again, my third father force-fed me an allergenic compound, then threw me into his university lab's hazardous materials room. Countless particles detonated inside my body. Even though Julian treated me afterward, I still lost all sensation in one leg. Seeing that I wasn't speaking, my third father assumed I was conceding guilt. His anger deepened. He raised his hand to hit me again. But my fourth father caught his wrist just in time. "Julian, calm down. Today Bianca is being formally designated as Sterling heir — of course she can't handle it. She's already tried to kill herself three times in front of me." *Tried to kill herself.* They thought I was suicidal. What they didn't know was that every time they "saved" me, they were trapping me deeper. I glanced at my fourth father. He'd changed clothes. His wounds were bandaged. But his face was paper-white. I remembered what my third father had just said. So it really was him who'd saved me. But my fourth father couldn't swim. I couldn't imagine how much it had cost him to pull me out of that water. My third father scoffed. "Liam, she played you. You've been away the past four years — she's pulled this act on us more times than I can count. It's just to get attention." My fourth father blinked, then exhaled a few seconds later as if relieved. "So that's all it is." Nolan pushed his glasses up and chimed in: "She's always been like this. Last time she stood at the edge of the rooftop in the school's main plaza, she had everyone fooled — students even filmed it and it went viral. Next day she was perfectly fine." His tone was flat. As if he were describing the weather. My third father turned back to me. "Iris, today is Bianca's birthday. You can throw your tantrum in front of the two of us, but don't you dare make a scene in front of Ethan and Marcus. You know how those two are—" Before he could finish, I was already lunging for the medicine cabinet behind him. I'd lived at my third father's place long enough to know exactly where he kept the dangerous drugs. I opened the cabinet, found the most toxic bottle inside. Took out the most lethal pill. Swallowed it without hesitation. My third father's face went white.
I was the only princess of Royal St. Ashford Academy — the girl with four fathers.After my mother died, her four childhood sweethearts found me still alive inside her belly.And so I ended up with four fathers. My first father, Ethan Sterling, was the head of a hundred-billion-dollar dynasty. He was also the sole trustee of Royal St. Ashford Academy, holding absolute authority over the institution. My second father, Marcus Sterling, was the commander of the world's largest private military corporation — his army could annihilate a small country with ease. My third father, Julian Sterling, was a universally recognized medical genius — the next Nobel Prize candidate. My fourth father, Liam Sterling, was the most feared legend in the underground fighting circuit — before he even turned seventeen, he had defeated thirty-three elite enforcers from criminal syndicates around the globe. I grew up drowning in the love of four fathers. No matter where I went, I was the center of everyone's envy. Until the year I turned eighteen, when the four fathers' shared daughter, Bianca White, was found and brought back. From that day on, these four men became entirely different people. Bianca said I'd verbally abused her. My second father injected me with a hallucinogenic drug — I stripped naked on the school rooftop like a lunatic and danced, then fell and shattered both my legs, missing prom entirely. A video of my naked dance spread across the school's network in minutes. When my first father saw it, he locked me — a girl with severe claustrophobia — in a pitch-black closet for three days and three nights. When I came out, I discovered that every honor I'd ever earned at school had been transferred to Bianca. She said I'd poisoned her. My third father, Julian, locked me inside his deadly fungal cultivation chamber. I became the perfect host for every pathogen inside — fungal hyphae burrowed through my pores and into my organs. Only when I was on the verge of death did they pull me out and blast me under cold water for an entire night, barely saving my life. But my right eye lost all its vision permanently. After Bianca cried yet again, claiming I'd tricked her into going to a bar where she was nearly attacked by dangerous men, my first father flew into a rage and threw me into an underground bar — where I became the lowest of the low: a stripper. For three years, I went from defiance to submission — because on my eighteenth birthday, my virginity was stolen by eighteen filthy strangers. From that day on, I was reduced to nothing more than the cheapest whore. Whenever my door opened, I instinctively spread my legs and lay back on the couch. That's when I heard a voice say: "Iris, would you like to come back to your mother?" ...... I jerked my head up. There was no one in the room. But the voice came again — I spotted a glowing screen on the floor. An unfamiliar yet somehow warm face appeared on the small display. She said her name was Helen, my mother's closest friend. She said my mother, Lillian, hadn't actually died that day. She'd been poisoned — a rare toxin that induced a death-like state — and then smuggled away by people who owed her their lives. And now she knew I was alive. She wanted to bring me home. The grief and pain I'd been suppressing broke free — I sobbed, crying out that I wanted to find my mother. But Helen's tone was tense. She said the Sterling family's reach was too vast. If they discovered Mother was still alive, they would track her down. The only safe way was to make everyone believe I was dead. "Only when you 'die' will they stop looking for you. Our people will extract you after your 'death.' Your mother is waiting on the other side." "Iris, even a faked death will be extremely painful — are you willing to —" Helen hadn't even finished her sentence before I was on my feet, grabbing a shard of glass from the broken mirror and pressing it to my throat without a moment's hesitation. *Yes!* Mother was alive! All I had to do was "die," and I could see her. Overwhelming joy drowned out every fear of death — this body had already endured too much. If "death" was the only way to reach Mother, I wouldn't hesitate for a second. But just as I was about to drag the glass across my skin, a massive force knocked it from my hand. The pain made me let go. The shard fell to the floor, and a foot stepped on it. "Iris, trying to kill yourself?" That familiar voice made me look up. When I saw who it was, I called out instinctively. "Fourth Father." The moment the word left my mouth, I regretted it. Sure enough, the man's brow furrowed at the title. "Don't call me that. I cut ties with you a long time ago." The person standing before me was Liam Sterling. When I was little, I'd been kidnapped by a rival family. He alone stormed into their compound, took three knife wounds without flinching, and carried me out without a scratch on me. After he rescued me, I cried so hard looking at his wounds that I couldn't breathe. But he just ruffled my hair and said those cuts didn't hurt at all. What hurt, he said, was watching me cry. Of the four fathers, the fourth was the one who loved me most. But that love vanished four years ago, when my second father Marcus brought an injured Bianca back from a school field trip. I'd always known my four fathers shared a single obsession — a woman they all loved. I just didn't know that woman wasn't my mother. It was Bianca's mother, Celine White. The truth was something I'd pieced together fragment by fragment: my mother, Lillian, grew up alongside the four Sterling brothers. Their father had been destroyed by a corporate conspiracy — framed, bankrupted, driven to an early grave. It was young Lillian who hid the four boys, placing each with a different guardian, a different mentor. They grew into their own. With Mother Lillian's help, they completed their revenge — Ethan reclaimed the family empire and cleared the Sterling name. Lillian and Ethan were supposed to be together. Childhood sweethearts — two hearts long promised to each other. But on the eve of the wedding, Celine White appeared. The moment she walked in, all four fathers' eyes shifted. After that, they called Lillian "jealous" and "unstable." They said she kept trying to hurt Celine. They said she eventually killed herself out of spite. After Mother's death, Celine disappeared too. It wasn't until Bianca appeared that the fathers learned — or thought they learned — the truth: Celine had left because she felt guilty about Lillian's death. Honestly? I never believed any of it. My gut told me Mother wasn't the villain. Celine was. But the fathers didn't trust my instincts. The brothers didn't either. They even thought I was just like my mother — petty, jealous, always competing for attention. So every time Bianca and I clashed, all eight of them stood on her side. Before long, I went from the most pampered princess of Ashford Prep to the lowest creature in an underground bar. My fourth father picked up the glass shard from the floor, glanced at the cut on my neck. Then his hand flicked, and the shard flew straight at me. I stumbled back two steps on instinct. The glass grazed my throat, leaving another thin red line. My fourth father let out a cold laugh: "If you really want to die, why'd you dodge?" "Iris, you're just like your mother — always hurting yourself to get attention." "At least she was smarter about it. She always performed in front of us. You picked this dump. Pathetic." Chapter 2: A Door Opened at 140 Km/h I was about to explain that I wasn't acting. But then I remembered — every explanation I'd ever given, they had never once listened. So I lowered my head. "You're absolutely right, Mr. Sterling. So what brings you all the way to a place like this — here just to watch my performance?" My fourth father paused. "Don't flatter yourself. Today is Bianca's birthday, and her heir designation ceremony. She recently said she's willing to forgive you and start fresh. I'm here to bring you." He added after a beat, "Ethan wants to see you too." I'd heard three days ago that my first father, Ethan, was going to formally designate Bianca as the Sterling family heir — the ceremony timed to her birthday, complete with a grand gala. I was a year older than her. *Sterling heir* — that was a title my first father had promised me when I was ten. If this had been the old me, I would have torn the whole thing down before letting anyone take what was mine. But now I just looked at my fourth father, expressionless. "I don't want to go." My fourth father stared for a moment, then said: "This isn't up to you." He grabbed my arm and dragged me out the door, shoved me into his car. He drove me to his place first — made me shower, changed my clothes — then headed for the Sterling estate. In the car, my fourth father wouldn't stop talking in my ear — telling me to be kind to Bianca, not to provoke her, not to think about bullying her. My heart ached with a dull, familiar pain. I watched the highway blur past outside the windows, faster and faster, and the desire to see Mother grew louder and louder in my head. Then I sat up, unbuckled my seatbelt, and at a hundred and forty kilometers per hour, I opened the car door. Before my feet left the car, I heard his scream. *At this speed,* I thought, *I'll definitely die.* But the expected pain never came. Instead, I landed in a warm embrace. My fourth father had caught me. We tumbled across the gravel shoulder, rolling twice before stopping. His furious voice exploded above my head. "Iris, have you lost your mind?!" I looked at him. Blood from a gash on his forehead was streaming down his face. I instinctively reached out to wipe it away. But my fourth father recoiled in disgust, his expression turning vicious: "Can you stop playing these games? You just want to see if I still care, don't you? Let me tell you — saving you means nothing. I'd save a stranger too. If I'd known this was your angle, I never would have jumped." "Next time you want to die, go ahead. I won't stop you." My hand froze in midair. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the river beyond the highway guardrail. I let out a bitter laugh. "Fine, Mr. Sterling. Remember what you just said." Before he could react, I was on my feet in an instant. Without looking back, I vaulted over the guardrail and threw myself into the water. My fourth father had nearly drowned in a swimming pool as a child. He was terrified of water. And after saying something that cruel, he definitely wouldn't come after me. So when the freezing river water rushed into my nose, I felt happy. *Finally — once they think I'm dead, I'll be free. I'll get to see Mother!* Chapter 3: Every Time They Saved Me, They Trapped Me Deeper I don't know how much time passed before the darkness lifted. Just as I was excitedly sitting up, thinking I'd find Mother, someone slapped me so hard I hit the floor. "You bitch! All we did was have you wash glasses and carry plates at the bar, and the second you see Liam, you pull this stunt! Do you know he almost drowned trying to save you?!" My third father Julian's voice came from above me. His face was ashen. Behind him stood Julian, hands in his pockets, watching me like I was some incomprehensible stranger. Of the four fathers, I'd been closest with my third father. The others were always busy, so the daily task of raising and educating me had fallen to him. He taught me to read and write. Taught me chemistry. Taught me to identify plants and compounds. He was the gentlest of them all. No matter how badly I messed up, he was patient. Never once punished me. But my third father — who never even raised his voice around me — hit me the very first day Bianca arrived. That day, Bianca had touched Julian's lab chemicals on her own. She insisted I'd put them on her. My third father took a belt and whipped me with it. "Iris, I failed you as a teacher. That's why you turned out this reckless — toying with people's lives." Later, when Bianca was poisoned again, my third father force-fed me an allergenic compound, then threw me into his university lab's hazardous materials room. Countless particles detonated inside my body. Even though Julian treated me afterward, I still lost all sensation in one leg. Seeing that I wasn't speaking, my third father assumed I was conceding guilt. His anger deepened. He raised his hand to hit me again. But my fourth father caught his wrist just in time. "Julian, calm down. Today Bianca is being formally designated as Sterling heir — of course she can't handle it. She's already tried to kill herself three times in front of me." *Tried to kill herself.* They thought I was suicidal. What they didn't know was that every time they "saved" me, they were trapping me deeper. I glanced at my fourth father. He'd changed clothes. His wounds were bandaged. But his face was paper-white. I remembered what my third father had just said. So it really was him who'd saved me. But my fourth father couldn't swim. I couldn't imagine how much it had cost him to pull me out of that water. My third father scoffed. "Liam, she played you. You've been away the past four years — she's pulled this act on us more times than I can count. It's just to get attention." My fourth father blinked, then exhaled a few seconds later as if relieved. "So that's all it is." Nolan pushed his glasses up and chimed in: "She's always been like this. Last time she stood at the edge of the rooftop in the school's main plaza, she had everyone fooled — students even filmed it and it went viral. Next day she was perfectly fine." His tone was flat. As if he were describing the weather. My third father turned back to me. "Iris, today is Bianca's birthday. You can throw your tantrum in front of the two of us, but don't you dare make a scene in front of Ethan and Marcus. You know how those two are—" Before he could finish, I was already lunging for the medicine cabinet behind him. I'd lived at my third father's place long enough to know exactly where he kept the dangerous drugs. I opened the cabinet, found the most toxic bottle inside. Took out the most lethal pill. Swallowed it without hesitation. My third father's face went white.
I was the only princess of Royal St. Ashford Academy — the girl with four fathers.After my mother died, her four childhood sweethearts found me still alive inside her belly.And so I ended up with four fathers. My first father, Ethan Sterling, was the head of a hundred-billion-dollar dynasty. He was also the sole trustee of Royal St. Ashford Academy, holding absolute authority over the institution. My second father, Marcus Sterling, was the commander of the world's largest private military corporation — his army could annihilate a small country with ease. My third father, Julian Sterling, was a universally recognized medical genius — the next Nobel Prize candidate. My fourth father, Liam Sterling, was the most feared legend in the underground fighting circuit — before he even turned seventeen, he had defeated thirty-three elite enforcers from criminal syndicates around the globe. I grew up drowning in the love of four fathers. No matter where I went, I was the center of everyone's envy. Until the year I turned eighteen, when the four fathers' shared daughter, Bianca White, was found and brought back. From that day on, these four men became entirely different people. Bianca said I'd verbally abused her. My second father injected me with a hallucinogenic drug — I stripped naked on the school rooftop like a lunatic and danced, then fell and shattered both my legs, missing prom entirely. A video of my naked dance spread across the school's network in minutes. When my first father saw it, he locked me — a girl with severe claustrophobia — in a pitch-black closet for three days and three nights. When I came out, I discovered that every honor I'd ever earned at school had been transferred to Bianca. She said I'd poisoned her. My third father, Julian, locked me inside his deadly fungal cultivation chamber. I became the perfect host for every pathogen inside — fungal hyphae burrowed through my pores and into my organs. Only when I was on the verge of death did they pull me out and blast me under cold water for an entire night, barely saving my life. But my right eye lost all its vision permanently. After Bianca cried yet again, claiming I'd tricked her into going to a bar where she was nearly attacked by dangerous men, my first father flew into a rage and threw me into an underground bar — where I became the lowest of the low: a stripper. For three years, I went from defiance to submission — because on my eighteenth birthday, my virginity was stolen by eighteen filthy strangers. From that day on, I was reduced to nothing more than the cheapest whore. Whenever my door opened, I instinctively spread my legs and lay back on the couch. That's when I heard a voice say: "Iris, would you like to come back to your mother?" ...... I jerked my head up. There was no one in the room. But the voice came again — I spotted a glowing screen on the floor. An unfamiliar yet somehow warm face appeared on the small display. She said her name was Helen, my mother's closest friend. She said my mother, Lillian, hadn't actually died that day. She'd been poisoned — a rare toxin that induced a death-like state — and then smuggled away by people who owed her their lives. And now she knew I was alive. She wanted to bring me home. The grief and pain I'd been suppressing broke free — I sobbed, crying out that I wanted to find my mother. But Helen's tone was tense. She said the Sterling family's reach was too vast. If they discovered Mother was still alive, they would track her down. The only safe way was to make everyone believe I was dead. "Only when you 'die' will they stop looking for you. Our people will extract you after your 'death.' Your mother is waiting on the other side." "Iris, even a faked death will be extremely painful — are you willing to —" Helen hadn't even finished her sentence before I was on my feet, grabbing a shard of glass from the broken mirror and pressing it to my throat without a moment's hesitation. *Yes!* Mother was alive! All I had to do was "die," and I could see her. Overwhelming joy drowned out every fear of death — this body had already endured too much. If "death" was the only way to reach Mother, I wouldn't hesitate for a second. But just as I was about to drag the glass across my skin, a massive force knocked it from my hand. The pain made me let go. The shard fell to the floor, and a foot stepped on it. "Iris, trying to kill yourself?" That familiar voice made me look up. When I saw who it was, I called out instinctively. "Fourth Father." The moment the word left my mouth, I regretted it. Sure enough, the man's brow furrowed at the title. "Don't call me that. I cut ties with you a long time ago." The person standing before me was Liam Sterling. When I was little, I'd been kidnapped by a rival family. He alone stormed into their compound, took three knife wounds without flinching, and carried me out without a scratch on me. After he rescued me, I cried so hard looking at his wounds that I couldn't breathe. But he just ruffled my hair and said those cuts didn't hurt at all. What hurt, he said, was watching me cry. Of the four fathers, the fourth was the one who loved me most. But that love vanished four years ago, when my second father Marcus brought an injured Bianca back from a school field trip. I'd always known my four fathers shared a single obsession — a woman they all loved. I just didn't know that woman wasn't my mother. It was Bianca's mother, Celine White. The truth was something I'd pieced together fragment by fragment: my mother, Lillian, grew up alongside the four Sterling brothers. Their father had been destroyed by a corporate conspiracy — framed, bankrupted, driven to an early grave. It was young Lillian who hid the four boys, placing each with a different guardian, a different mentor. They grew into their own. With Mother Lillian's help, they completed their revenge — Ethan reclaimed the family empire and cleared the Sterling name. Lillian and Ethan were supposed to be together. Childhood sweethearts — two hearts long promised to each other. But on the eve of the wedding, Celine White appeared. The moment she walked in, all four fathers' eyes shifted. After that, they called Lillian "jealous" and "unstable." They said she kept trying to hurt Celine. They said she eventually killed herself out of spite. After Mother's death, Celine disappeared too. It wasn't until Bianca appeared that the fathers learned — or thought they learned — the truth: Celine had left because she felt guilty about Lillian's death. Honestly? I never believed any of it. My gut told me Mother wasn't the villain. Celine was. But the fathers didn't trust my instincts. The brothers didn't either. They even thought I was just like my mother — petty, jealous, always competing for attention. So every time Bianca and I clashed, all eight of them stood on her side. Before long, I went from the most pampered princess of Ashford Prep to the lowest creature in an underground bar. My fourth father picked up the glass shard from the floor, glanced at the cut on my neck. Then his hand flicked, and the shard flew straight at me. I stumbled back two steps on instinct. The glass grazed my throat, leaving another thin red line. My fourth father let out a cold laugh: "If you really want to die, why'd you dodge?" "Iris, you're just like your mother — always hurting yourself to get attention." "At least she was smarter about it. She always performed in front of us. You picked this dump. Pathetic." Chapter 2: A Door Opened at 140 Km/h I was about to explain that I wasn't acting. But then I remembered — every explanation I'd ever given, they had never once listened. So I lowered my head. "You're absolutely right, Mr. Sterling. So what brings you all the way to a place like this — here just to watch my performance?" My fourth father paused. "Don't flatter yourself. Today is Bianca's birthday, and her heir designation ceremony. She recently said she's willing to forgive you and start fresh. I'm here to bring you." He added after a beat, "Ethan wants to see you too." I'd heard three days ago that my first father, Ethan, was going to formally designate Bianca as the Sterling family heir — the ceremony timed to her birthday, complete with a grand gala. I was a year older than her. *Sterling heir* — that was a title my first father had promised me when I was ten. If this had been the old me, I would have torn the whole thing down before letting anyone take what was mine. But now I just looked at my fourth father, expressionless. "I don't want to go." My fourth father stared for a moment, then said: "This isn't up to you." He grabbed my arm and dragged me out the door, shoved me into his car. He drove me to his place first — made me shower, changed my clothes — then headed for the Sterling estate. In the car, my fourth father wouldn't stop talking in my ear — telling me to be kind to Bianca, not to provoke her, not to think about bullying her. My heart ached with a dull, familiar pain. I watched the highway blur past outside the windows, faster and faster, and the desire to see Mother grew louder and louder in my head. Then I sat up, unbuckled my seatbelt, and at a hundred and forty kilometers per hour, I opened the car door. Before my feet left the car, I heard his scream. *At this speed,* I thought, *I'll definitely die.* But the expected pain never came. Instead, I landed in a warm embrace. My fourth father had caught me. We tumbled across the gravel shoulder, rolling twice before stopping. His furious voice exploded above my head. "Iris, have you lost your mind?!" I looked at him. Blood from a gash on his forehead was streaming down his face. I instinctively reached out to wipe it away. But my fourth father recoiled in disgust, his expression turning vicious: "Can you stop playing these games? You just want to see if I still care, don't you? Let me tell you — saving you means nothing. I'd save a stranger too. If I'd known this was your angle, I never would have jumped." "Next time you want to die, go ahead. I won't stop you." My hand froze in midair. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the river beyond the highway guardrail. I let out a bitter laugh. "Fine, Mr. Sterling. Remember what you just said." Before he could react, I was on my feet in an instant. Without looking back, I vaulted over the guardrail and threw myself into the water. My fourth father had nearly drowned in a swimming pool as a child. He was terrified of water. And after saying something that cruel, he definitely wouldn't come after me. So when the freezing river water rushed into my nose, I felt happy. *Finally — once they think I'm dead, I'll be free. I'll get to see Mother!* Chapter 3: Every Time They Saved Me, They Trapped Me Deeper I don't know how much time passed before the darkness lifted. Just as I was excitedly sitting up, thinking I'd find Mother, someone slapped me so hard I hit the floor. "You bitch! All we did was have you wash glasses and carry plates at the bar, and the second you see Liam, you pull this stunt! Do you know he almost drowned trying to save you?!" My third father Julian's voice came from above me. His face was ashen. Behind him stood Julian, hands in his pockets, watching me like I was some incomprehensible stranger. Of the four fathers, I'd been closest with my third father. The others were always busy, so the daily task of raising and educating me had fallen to him. He taught me to read and write. Taught me chemistry. Taught me to identify plants and compounds. He was the gentlest of them all. No matter how badly I messed up, he was patient. Never once punished me. But my third father — who never even raised his voice around me — hit me the very first day Bianca arrived. That day, Bianca had touched Julian's lab chemicals on her own. She insisted I'd put them on her. My third father took a belt and whipped me with it. "Iris, I failed you as a teacher. That's why you turned out this reckless — toying with people's lives." Later, when Bianca was poisoned again, my third father force-fed me an allergenic compound, then threw me into his university lab's hazardous materials room. Countless particles detonated inside my body. Even though Julian treated me afterward, I still lost all sensation in one leg. Seeing that I wasn't speaking, my third father assumed I was conceding guilt. His anger deepened. He raised his hand to hit me again. But my fourth father caught his wrist just in time. "Julian, calm down. Today Bianca is being formally designated as Sterling heir — of course she can't handle it. She's already tried to kill herself three times in front of me." *Tried to kill herself.* They thought I was suicidal. What they didn't know was that every time they "saved" me, they were trapping me deeper. I glanced at my fourth father. He'd changed clothes. His wounds were bandaged. But his face was paper-white. I remembered what my third father had just said. So it really was him who'd saved me. But my fourth father couldn't swim. I couldn't imagine how much it had cost him to pull me out of that water. My third father scoffed. "Liam, she played you. You've been away the past four years — she's pulled this act on us more times than I can count. It's just to get attention." My fourth father blinked, then exhaled a few seconds later as if relieved. "So that's all it is." Nolan pushed his glasses up and chimed in: "She's always been like this. Last time she stood at the edge of the rooftop in the school's main plaza, she had everyone fooled — students even filmed it and it went viral. Next day she was perfectly fine." His tone was flat. As if he were describing the weather. My third father turned back to me. "Iris, today is Bianca's birthday. You can throw your tantrum in front of the two of us, but don't you dare make a scene in front of Ethan and Marcus. You know how those two are—" Before he could finish, I was already lunging for the medicine cabinet behind him. I'd lived at my third father's place long enough to know exactly where he kept the dangerous drugs. I opened the cabinet, found the most toxic bottle inside. Took out the most lethal pill. Swallowed it without hesitation. My third father's face went white.
I was the only princess of Royal St. Ashford Academy — the girl with four fathers.After my mother died, her four childhood sweethearts found me still alive inside her belly.And so I ended up with four fathers. My first father, Ethan Sterling, was the head of a hundred-billion-dollar dynasty. He was also the sole trustee of Royal St. Ashford Academy, holding absolute authority over the institution. My second father, Marcus Sterling, was the commander of the world's largest private military corporation — his army could annihilate a small country with ease. My third father, Julian Sterling, was a universally recognized medical genius — the next Nobel Prize candidate. My fourth father, Liam Sterling, was the most feared legend in the underground fighting circuit — before he even turned seventeen, he had defeated thirty-three elite enforcers from criminal syndicates around the globe. I grew up drowning in the love of four fathers. No matter where I went, I was the center of everyone's envy. Until the year I turned eighteen, when the four fathers' shared daughter, Bianca White, was found and brought back. From that day on, these four men became entirely different people. Bianca said I'd verbally abused her. My second father injected me with a hallucinogenic drug — I stripped naked on the school rooftop like a lunatic and danced, then fell and shattered both my legs, missing prom entirely. A video of my naked dance spread across the school's network in minutes. When my first father saw it, he locked me — a girl with severe claustrophobia — in a pitch-black closet for three days and three nights. When I came out, I discovered that every honor I'd ever earned at school had been transferred to Bianca. She said I'd poisoned her. My third father, Julian, locked me inside his deadly fungal cultivation chamber. I became the perfect host for every pathogen inside — fungal hyphae burrowed through my pores and into my organs. Only when I was on the verge of death did they pull me out and blast me under cold water for an entire night, barely saving my life. But my right eye lost all its vision permanently. After Bianca cried yet again, claiming I'd tricked her into going to a bar where she was nearly attacked by dangerous men, my first father flew into a rage and threw me into an underground bar — where I became the lowest of the low: a stripper. For three years, I went from defiance to submission — because on my eighteenth birthday, my virginity was stolen by eighteen filthy strangers. From that day on, I was reduced to nothing more than the cheapest whore. Whenever my door opened, I instinctively spread my legs and lay back on the couch. That's when I heard a voice say: "Iris, would you like to come back to your mother?" ...... I jerked my head up. There was no one in the room. But the voice came again — I spotted a glowing screen on the floor. An unfamiliar yet somehow warm face appeared on the small display. She said her name was Helen, my mother's closest friend. She said my mother, Lillian, hadn't actually died that day. She'd been poisoned — a rare toxin that induced a death-like state — and then smuggled away by people who owed her their lives. And now she knew I was alive. She wanted to bring me home. The grief and pain I'd been suppressing broke free — I sobbed, crying out that I wanted to find my mother. But Helen's tone was tense. She said the Sterling family's reach was too vast. If they discovered Mother was still alive, they would track her down. The only safe way was to make everyone believe I was dead. "Only when you 'die' will they stop looking for you. Our people will extract you after your 'death.' Your mother is waiting on the other side." "Iris, even a faked death will be extremely painful — are you willing to —" Helen hadn't even finished her sentence before I was on my feet, grabbing a shard of glass from the broken mirror and pressing it to my throat without a moment's hesitation. *Yes!* Mother was alive! All I had to do was "die," and I could see her. Overwhelming joy drowned out every fear of death — this body had already endured too much. If "death" was the only way to reach Mother, I wouldn't hesitate for a second. But just as I was about to drag the glass across my skin, a massive force knocked it from my hand. The pain made me let go. The shard fell to the floor, and a foot stepped on it. "Iris, trying to kill yourself?" That familiar voice made me look up. When I saw who it was, I called out instinctively. "Fourth Father." The moment the word left my mouth, I regretted it. Sure enough, the man's brow furrowed at the title. "Don't call me that. I cut ties with you a long time ago." The person standing before me was Liam Sterling. When I was little, I'd been kidnapped by a rival family. He alone stormed into their compound, took three knife wounds without flinching, and carried me out without a scratch on me. After he rescued me, I cried so hard looking at his wounds that I couldn't breathe. But he just ruffled my hair and said those cuts didn't hurt at all. What hurt, he said, was watching me cry. Of the four fathers, the fourth was the one who loved me most. But that love vanished four years ago, when my second father Marcus brought an injured Bianca back from a school field trip. I'd always known my four fathers shared a single obsession — a woman they all loved. I just didn't know that woman wasn't my mother. It was Bianca's mother, Celine White. The truth was something I'd pieced together fragment by fragment: my mother, Lillian, grew up alongside the four Sterling brothers. Their father had been destroyed by a corporate conspiracy — framed, bankrupted, driven to an early grave. It was young Lillian who hid the four boys, placing each with a different guardian, a different mentor. They grew into their own. With Mother Lillian's help, they completed their revenge — Ethan reclaimed the family empire and cleared the Sterling name. Lillian and Ethan were supposed to be together. Childhood sweethearts — two hearts long promised to each other. But on the eve of the wedding, Celine White appeared. The moment she walked in, all four fathers' eyes shifted. After that, they called Lillian "jealous" and "unstable." They said she kept trying to hurt Celine. They said she eventually killed herself out of spite. After Mother's death, Celine disappeared too. It wasn't until Bianca appeared that the fathers learned — or thought they learned — the truth: Celine had left because she felt guilty about Lillian's death. Honestly? I never believed any of it. My gut told me Mother wasn't the villain. Celine was. But the fathers didn't trust my instincts. The brothers didn't either. They even thought I was just like my mother — petty, jealous, always competing for attention. So every time Bianca and I clashed, all eight of them stood on her side. Before long, I went from the most pampered princess of Ashford Prep to the lowest creature in an underground bar. My fourth father picked up the glass shard from the floor, glanced at the cut on my neck. Then his hand flicked, and the shard flew straight at me. I stumbled back two steps on instinct. The glass grazed my throat, leaving another thin red line. My fourth father let out a cold laugh: "If you really want to die, why'd you dodge?" "Iris, you're just like your mother — always hurting yourself to get attention." "At least she was smarter about it. She always performed in front of us. You picked this dump. Pathetic." Chapter 2: A Door Opened at 140 Km/h I was about to explain that I wasn't acting. But then I remembered — every explanation I'd ever given, they had never once listened. So I lowered my head. "You're absolutely right, Mr. Sterling. So what brings you all the way to a place like this — here just to watch my performance?" My fourth father paused. "Don't flatter yourself. Today is Bianca's birthday, and her heir designation ceremony. She recently said she's willing to forgive you and start fresh. I'm here to bring you." He added after a beat, "Ethan wants to see you too." I'd heard three days ago that my first father, Ethan, was going to formally designate Bianca as the Sterling family heir — the ceremony timed to her birthday, complete with a grand gala. I was a year older than her. *Sterling heir* — that was a title my first father had promised me when I was ten. If this had been the old me, I would have torn the whole thing down before letting anyone take what was mine. But now I just looked at my fourth father, expressionless. "I don't want to go." My fourth father stared for a moment, then said: "This isn't up to you." He grabbed my arm and dragged me out the door, shoved me into his car. He drove me to his place first — made me shower, changed my clothes — then headed for the Sterling estate. In the car, my fourth father wouldn't stop talking in my ear — telling me to be kind to Bianca, not to provoke her, not to think about bullying her. My heart ached with a dull, familiar pain. I watched the highway blur past outside the windows, faster and faster, and the desire to see Mother grew louder and louder in my head. Then I sat up, unbuckled my seatbelt, and at a hundred and forty kilometers per hour, I opened the car door. Before my feet left the car, I heard his scream. *At this speed,* I thought, *I'll definitely die.* But the expected pain never came. Instead, I landed in a warm embrace. My fourth father had caught me. We tumbled across the gravel shoulder, rolling twice before stopping. His furious voice exploded above my head. "Iris, have you lost your mind?!" I looked at him. Blood from a gash on his forehead was streaming down his face. I instinctively reached out to wipe it away. But my fourth father recoiled in disgust, his expression turning vicious: "Can you stop playing these games? You just want to see if I still care, don't you? Let me tell you — saving you means nothing. I'd save a stranger too. If I'd known this was your angle, I never would have jumped." "Next time you want to die, go ahead. I won't stop you." My hand froze in midair. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the river beyond the highway guardrail. I let out a bitter laugh. "Fine, Mr. Sterling. Remember what you just said." Before he could react, I was on my feet in an instant. Without looking back, I vaulted over the guardrail and threw myself into the water. My fourth father had nearly drowned in a swimming pool as a child. He was terrified of water. And after saying something that cruel, he definitely wouldn't come after me. So when the freezing river water rushed into my nose, I felt happy. *Finally — once they think I'm dead, I'll be free. I'll get to see Mother!* Chapter 3: Every Time They Saved Me, They Trapped Me Deeper I don't know how much time passed before the darkness lifted. Just as I was excitedly sitting up, thinking I'd find Mother, someone slapped me so hard I hit the floor. "You bitch! All we did was have you wash glasses and carry plates at the bar, and the second you see Liam, you pull this stunt! Do you know he almost drowned trying to save you?!" My third father Julian's voice came from above me. His face was ashen. Behind him stood Julian, hands in his pockets, watching me like I was some incomprehensible stranger. Of the four fathers, I'd been closest with my third father. The others were always busy, so the daily task of raising and educating me had fallen to him. He taught me to read and write. Taught me chemistry. Taught me to identify plants and compounds. He was the gentlest of them all. No matter how badly I messed up, he was patient. Never once punished me. But my third father — who never even raised his voice around me — hit me the very first day Bianca arrived. That day, Bianca had touched Julian's lab chemicals on her own. She insisted I'd put them on her. My third father took a belt and whipped me with it. "Iris, I failed you as a teacher. That's why you turned out this reckless — toying with people's lives." Later, when Bianca was poisoned again, my third father force-fed me an allergenic compound, then threw me into his university lab's hazardous materials room. Countless particles detonated inside my body. Even though Julian treated me afterward, I still lost all sensation in one leg. Seeing that I wasn't speaking, my third father assumed I was conceding guilt. His anger deepened. He raised his hand to hit me again. But my fourth father caught his wrist just in time. "Julian, calm down. Today Bianca is being formally designated as Sterling heir — of course she can't handle it. She's already tried to kill herself three times in front of me." *Tried to kill herself.* They thought I was suicidal. What they didn't know was that every time they "saved" me, they were trapping me deeper. I glanced at my fourth father. He'd changed clothes. His wounds were bandaged. But his face was paper-white. I remembered what my third father had just said. So it really was him who'd saved me. But my fourth father couldn't swim. I couldn't imagine how much it had cost him to pull me out of that water. My third father scoffed. "Liam, she played you. You've been away the past four years — she's pulled this act on us more times than I can count. It's just to get attention." My fourth father blinked, then exhaled a few seconds later as if relieved. "So that's all it is." Nolan pushed his glasses up and chimed in: "She's always been like this. Last time she stood at the edge of the rooftop in the school's main plaza, she had everyone fooled — students even filmed it and it went viral. Next day she was perfectly fine." His tone was flat. As if he were describing the weather. My third father turned back to me. "Iris, today is Bianca's birthday. You can throw your tantrum in front of the two of us, but don't you dare make a scene in front of Ethan and Marcus. You know how those two are—" Before he could finish, I was already lunging for the medicine cabinet behind him. I'd lived at my third father's place long enough to know exactly where he kept the dangerous drugs. I opened the cabinet, found the most toxic bottle inside. Took out the most lethal pill. Swallowed it without hesitation. My third father's face went white.
앤서니의 생일 당일, 모습을 드러내지 않던 재벌 앤서니는 자신의 아내가 본인의 신분, 돈, 지위를 이용해 딴 남자와 결혼하려는 걸 알게 된다. 별 볼 일 없는 사람으로 가장해 잠입한 그는 하객들 앞에서 모욕을 당하며 모든 걸 참아내다가 끝내 그가 바로 매트릭스 그룹 대표이자 마피아의 두목이란 사실이 밝혀진다. 하나둘씩 벗겨지는 거짓말, 앤서니는 그렇게 권력을 되찾고 배신을 폭로하며 무자비한 복수를 진행하는데...
앤서니의 생일 당일, 모습을 드러내지 않던 재벌 앤서니는 자신의 아내가 본인의 신분, 돈, 지위를 이용해 딴 남자와 결혼하려는 걸 알게 된다. 별 볼 일 없는 사람으로 가장해 잠입한 그는 하객들 앞에서 모욕을 당하며 모든 걸 참아내다가 끝내 그가 바로 매트릭스 그룹 대표이자 마피아의 두목이란 사실이 밝혀진다. 하나둘씩 벗겨지는 거짓말, 앤서니는 그렇게 권력을 되찾고 배신을 폭로하며 무자비한 복수를 진행하는데...
앤서니의 생일 당일, 모습을 드러내지 않던 재벌 앤서니는 자신의 아내가 본인의 신분, 돈, 지위를 이용해 딴 남자와 결혼하려는 걸 알게 된다. 별 볼 일 없는 사람으로 가장해 잠입한 그는 하객들 앞에서 모욕을 당하며 모든 걸 참아내다가 끝내 그가 바로 매트릭스 그룹 대표이자 마피아의 두목이란 사실이 밝혀진다. 하나둘씩 벗겨지는 거짓말, 앤서니는 그렇게 권력을 되찾고 배신을 폭로하며 무자비한 복수를 진행하는데...
Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now.Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now. Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia Capítulo 1 ¡Bum! Las puertas de la sala del evento se abrieron de golpe. "¡Algo le ha pasado a Lydia!", gritó un hombre al entrar tambaleándose, con el pánico pintado en el rostro. Las palabras impactaron como una bomba. La sala —decorada con flores, lazos y música romántica, bullendo de emoción por la propuesta— quedó instantáneamente en silencio. El hombre en el centro de atención, aún de rodillas, con el anillo en la mano, se giró sobresaltado. "¿Qué acabas de decir?" Quade Zimmer, con su pelo teñido de azul tan estridente como su voz, soltó: "¡La señora Lancaster acaba de llamar! ¡Lydia ha tenido un accidente de coche! ¡Está en el hospital ahora mismo!" Apenas habían salido las palabras de su boca cuando estalló el caos: sillas arrastrándose, tacones repiqueteando, gente apresurándose hacia la puerta. No era una exageración decir que Lydia Wallace era la chica de moda de su círculo: hermosa, talentosa, frágil de esa forma desgarradora que hacía que la gente quisiera protegerla. Todos la adoraban, la compadecían, la veneraban. ¿Y ahora que su diosa estaba herida? A nadie le quedaba corazón para seguir celebrando una propuesta de matrimonio cuya respuesta todos ya conocían. Incluso el chico que proponía lo dejó todo y salió corriendo. "Jasper—" La voz que pronunció su nombre llegó por detrás —suave, apenas más que un suspiro. Fue entonces cuando todos finalmente se dieron cuenta: la mujer a la que le estaban pidiendo matrimonio no había dicho ni una palabra en todo este tiempo. Alguien debió de haber dado a los interruptores en el caos, porque la sala se oscureció. La única luz provenía de las suaves lámparas de la pared. En un rincón, mitad en sombras, mitad en luz, estaba Claudia Lancaster. Su belleza no era del tipo dulce y gentil —era marcada, impactante, inolvidable. Pero en ese momento, su calma resultaba inquietante. Su expresión no revelaba nada. "¿No quieres oír mi respuesta?", preguntó en voz baja. Hacía apenas un minuto, Jasper Fenton le había pedido que se casara con él. Ahora, a medio camino de la puerta, se detuvo en seco. Ni siquiera intentó explicarse. "Claudia, lo siento. Tengo que ir al hospital. Vete a casa primero, ¿vale?" "¿Y si no te dejo ir?" Su voz se mantuvo firme. "Jasper, sabes que la odio." Jasper suspiró, exasperado. "Claudia, ahora no. No es momento para empezar una pelea." "Mi respuesta… puede que solo la obtengas una vez", dijo, tan calmada como siempre. Algo en su tono le hizo hacer una pausa. Normalmente, en cuanto salía el nombre de Lydia, Claudia estallaba —espetando, poniendo los ojos en blanco, maldiciendo a Lydia entre dientes. Pero esta noche, estaba fría, distante. Casi como si lo hubiera estado esperando. Un destello de inquietud le recorrió la espalda a Jasper. "Oh, por favor", intervino Quade, poniendo los ojos en blanco. "Has estado obsesionada con Jasper desde, ¿qué, la secundaria? El tipo finalmente te propone matrimonio y ¿se supone que debemos creer que dirías que no?" "Sí, alguien podría estar muriéndose en serio. Te pueden proponer matrimonio cualquier otro día", añadió alguien más. "¡Exacto! Las familias arreglaron esto hace siglos, toda esta cosa es solo por apariencias." Los comentarios dolían, pero Claudia ni siquiera parpadeó. Sus ojos oscuros permanecieron clavados en Jasper. Esperando. Jasper dejó escapar otro suspiro y volvió hacia ella. Como siempre, le despeinó el cabello como si fuera una niña. "Pórtate bien, ¿vale? No montes una escena. Lydia podría estar gravemente herida. Este no es el momento para una rabieta." Siempre era así. Cada vez que Lydia estaba involucrada, Jasper nunca preguntaba quién tenía razón o no. Corría a consolar a Lydia primero, y luego volvía a regañar a Claudia, suave y paciente, como si fuera una niña mimada que simplemente no entendía. Así se sentía amar a alguien desde abajo. No importaba cuánto gritaras, tu ira era solo "graciosa". Nunca seria. ¿Esta propuesta? Nunca había sido una pregunta real. Jasper ya sabía cuál debería haber sido su respuesta. "¡Oh, al diablo con esto, no puedo quedarme callada más tiempo!" Whitney Sawyer golpeó su bolso de mano contra algo, con furia destellando en sus ojos. Había estado aguantándose desde que Quade irrumpió, pero ya era suficiente. "Jasper, ¿eres su novio o su ambulancia personal? ¿Cómo es que cada vez que Lydia sufre 'un accidente', te llama a ti? Siempre perfectamente sincronizado, siempre arruinando tus planes. ¡La última vez fue una cita, ahora es tu propuesta! ¿Qué, no podía esperar a morirse cinco minutos?" Como mejor amiga de Claudia, Whitney había pasado semanas planeando esta propuesta. Y ahora, una vez más, Lydia la había secuestrado, y Jasper había caído directamente en la trampa. La furia de Whitney se extendió como un incendio forestal. "¡Y el resto de ustedes! ¿Para qué corren, a visitarla o a planear su funeral? ¡A este paso, Lydia ya debería haber muerto cien veces!" "¡Whitney!" El rostro de Jasper se ensombreció; el hombre gentil y afable desapareció. Su voz sonó como un latigazo. "Mide tus palabras." "Oh, perdóname." La voz de Whitney subió de tono, aguda y furiosa. "¿No soportas oír criticar a tu preciosa Lydia? Jasper, ¿acaso recuerdas quién es tu novia?" Los ojos de Jasper se helaron. Claudia le agarró el brazo a Whitney, con voz tranquila pero firme. "Si sales por esa puerta, Jasper, terminamos." Ya se había perdido demasiado tiempo. Jasper se pellizcó el puente de la nariz y suspiró. "No digas algo de lo que te arrepentirás. Claudia, hablaremos cuando vuelva." Se dio la vuelta y salió con paso firme, sin mirar atrás. Ni siquiera sabía lo graves que eran las lesiones de Lydia, solo sabía que tenía que ir. Se dijo a sí mismo: Cuando vuelva, lo compensaré. Le haré una propuesta aún mejor. También tomó nota mental de decirle a Claudia que se alejara de Whitney; claramente esa chica le estaba llenando la cabeza de tonterías. La sala se hundió bajo el peso de todo. Incluso aquellos que pensaban que Claudia estaba siendo dramática se mordieron la lengua. Nadie quería contrariar a Jasper, ni a los Sawyer. Uno a uno, se escabulleron. En minutos, el lugar era irreconocible. Pétalos de rosa aplastados y lazos cubrían el suelo. Botellas de vino rodaban bajo las sillas. Glaseado embadurnaba la alfombra. Toda la escena parecía una parodia de lo que había sido, burlándose de lo ridículo que era todo. Mientras los últimos rezagados se quedaban, alguien frunció el ceño. "Esperen… Lydia es la hija adoptiva de los Lancaster, ¿verdad? Oí que es prima de Claudia. ¿Por qué nadie llamó a Claudia también?" "¿Llamarla? ¿Qué, quieren empeorar aún más las lesiones de Lydia?" "Vaya, ¿qué se supone que significa eso?" "Lo de siempre. Que la señorita Lancaster es fría, cruel, desagradecida… ya sabes cómo va." Los susurros comenzaron de nuevo, suaves, venenosos y familiares. Siempre lo hacían cuando el nombre de Lydia salía junto al de Claudia. El rostro de Whitney ardía de ira. Se volvió hacia Claudia, de repente preocupada. Los cotilleos de extraños no importaban, pero ¿la traición de alguien a quien amas? Eso siempre calaba más hondo. Claudia observó la espalda de Jasper mientras se alejaba, cada paso alejándolo más de ella. Era como ver los años escurriéndose entre sus dedos, el chico con el que había crecido desvaneciéndose a lo lejos. Whitney le había preguntado una vez: Si nada hubiera interrumpido esta noche, ¿habrías dicho que sí? Pero, honestamente: No importara cuál fuera su respuesta, el final habría sido el mismo. Lydia nunca la dejaría ganar. Y Jasper nunca la elegiría a ella. En el momento en que le dio la espalda, no se dio cuenta de que, aunque el futuro pueda parecer interminable, la mujer dispuesta a esperarte no dura para siempre. Jasper… esta vez, realmente te dejo ir. En la mesa, entre el desorden, el teléfono de Claudia vibró. Una notificación de WhatsApp apareció, breve y suficiente. "Perdiste." Capítulo 2 Tres días antes, Lydia había acorralado a Claudia. "Sabes que Jasper está a punto de proponerte matrimonio, ¿verdad?" Sus bonitos ojos brillaban, no de emoción, sino de celos y malicia. "Oí que ambas familias querían pasar directamente a la fiesta de compromiso, pero él insistió en hacerlo bien. Dijo que necesitaba oír tu 'sí' él mismo, o no significaría nada. Ayy, qué romántico, ¿no?" "¿Y qué?" Claudia levantó la vista, su tono plano, sin inmutarse. La sonrisa de Lydia se curvó, afilada y venenosa. "¿Y qué? Claudia, ¿qué hace que una pecadora como tú crea que merece felicidad?" Se inclinó más cerca, con voz azucarada pero goteando veneno. "¿Quieres apostar? En tres días, esa propuesta ni siquiera ocurrirá." Claudia solo la miró fijamente. Para todos los demás, Lydia era pura perfección: de voz suave, gentil, toda gracia y luz. Nadie creería que a puerta cerrada podía escupir veneno así. Podría haber detenido la propuesta en cualquier momento que quisiera. Pero no. A Lydia le gustaba el drama. Quería esperar hasta el acto final, para empujar a Claudia fuera del escenario ella misma. Como siempre hacía. … Después de que la propuesta se fuera al traste, el teléfono de Whitney sonó. Una mirada a la identificación de la llamada, y su rostro se demudó. Maldijo entre dientes y salió corriendo. Había planeado dejar a Claudia primero —Claudia había llegado en el coche de Jasper—, pero cuando Claudia se dio cuenta de que algo pasaba con la madre de Whitney, la instó a irse. Cuando todos los demás se habían ido, Claudia se quedó entre los escombros de flores aplastadas y copas de champán, con la cabeza agachada, su expresión ilegible. Dejó escapar una risita amarga. Era tarde. Las calles afuera estaban tranquilas y vacías. Claudia salió del club sin ganas de ir a casa. Vagó junto al río, el frío de la noche calándole la piel. Entonces, se detuvo en seco. Los vellos de su nuca se erizaron: alguien la seguía. Levantó su teléfono, fingiendo tomar una selfie, inclinándolo lo justo para ver el reflejo detrás de ella. Un grupo de hombres, sombras acercándose. Su pulso se disparó. Empezó a caminar más rápido. Ellos también. Su pulgar se cernió sobre su contacto de emergencia —el número que Jasper la había obligado a configurar hacía un año. En aquel entonces, le había roto el brazo a un acosador por molestar a una chica y había terminado en la comisaría. Jasper la sacó bajo fianza, regañándola durante todo el trayecto a casa por ser imprudente. Se había puesto a sí mismo como su contacto de emergencia, haciéndole prometer que si alguna vez estaba en peligro, lo llamaría a él, sin heroísmos, sin orgullo. Había jurado que sin importar dónde o cuándo, iría por ella. Nunca imaginó que la primera vez que llamaría sería así. "¿Claudia?" La voz de Jasper llegó, baja y cansada. Estaba en el hospital. El accidente de Lydia no había sido grave, pero ella era frágil —nacida prematura, se alteraba fácilmente. Solo él podía calmarla. Todo el clan Lancaster estaba acampado fuera. Lydia acababa de quedarse dormida cuando llegó la llamada, despertándola de un salto. "Jasper, alguien me está siguiendo." Silencio. Luego, su voz, fría, desdeñosa. "Claudia, realmente no puedo irme esta noche. No montes una escena." Pensó que estaba mintiendo, intentando alejarlo otra vez del lado de la cama de Lydia. Justo entonces, la madre de Lydia, Lottie Wallace, entró con un vaso de agua. Su rostro suave y elegante se endureció al ver el teléfono en la mano de Jasper. "¡Claudia!", espetó. "Lydia acaba de tener un accidente, y ni siquiera te molestas en visitar. ¿Ahora estás quién sabe dónde, inventando historias? ¿Cuándo vas a crecer? Escucha: nadie se va esta noche. Deja ya tus juegos mezquinos." Colgó sin dudar. En la cama, Lydia yacía pálida y temblorosa. Su voz era pequeña, vacilante. "Mamá, no te enfades. ¿Y si Claudia realmente está en problemas?" Lottie suspiró, la decepción grabada a fuego. "¿Qué problemas podría tener? Esta no es la primera vez que intenta algo cuando tú estás enferma." En la secundaria, Claudia una vez había llamado a casa en medio de la noche, diciendo que la habían secuestrado y exigiendo dinero de rescate. Esa misma noche, Lydia había caído enferma. La familia ya estaba en pánico, y la supuesta llamada de rescate casi le da un infarto a Lottie. Habían corrido a la ubicación, solo para encontrar a Claudia saliendo ilesa, sin un rasguño. Para cuando volvieron a casa, Lydia se había desplomado en el suelo, sola. Era demasiado tarde cuando finalmente la llevaron al hospital. El doctor dijo que con otro retraso, no habría sobrevivido. Esa noche, el padre de Claudia la había golpeado hasta dejarla sangrando. Pasó un mes en el hospital, y nunca se disculpó. La voz de Lottie se suavizó, cargada de decepción. "¿Cuándo se volvió así mi dulce niña?" Jasper conocía cada palabra de esa historia. Incluso había sido él quien llevaba snacks a escondidas a la cama de Claudia en el hospital después, contando chistes estúpidos para hacerla reír. Pero esta noche era diferente. Se dijo a sí mismo que solo estaba haciendo una rabieta por la propuesta arruinada. No tenía energía para sus pataletas. Mañana, cuando se calmara, hablaría con ella, la haría sonreír de nuevo. Colgó, apartó el cabello de la frente de Lydia y susurró: "Se te ha ido la fiebre. Pórtate bien. Duerme." Los ojos de Lydia brillaron con culpa y suavidad. "Jasper, lo siento por esta noche. Es toda mi culpa. Si no fuera tan débil—" "No. Nunca eres una carga." "Jasper…" "Duerme." Sus pestañas aletearon y se cerraron, y una pequeña sonrisa curvó sus labios. Dormiría tranquila esa noche. … Detrás de Claudia, los hombres se acercaban, lentos, perezosos, como gatos jugando con un ratón. Ella siguió corriendo, la voz de Jasper y el regaño de Lottie resonando en su mente. Tal vez había estado decepcionada demasiadas veces, porque ni siquiera se sentía triste ya, solo vacía. Hueca. La noche de abril era cálida, pero cortaba como cristal. La empujaron a un rincón oscuro. Claudia se detuvo bajo un árbol, su expresión calmada, los ojos bajándose al suelo. Entonces, se movió. Quince minutos después, los hombres yacían esparcidos por el pavimento —brazos retorcidos, piernas rotas, gimiendo de dolor. Claudia, sin aliento y sangrando, se dejó caer en el bordillo. Agarró su teléfono con una mano resbaladiza de sangre y marcó al 911. Después de ese lío en octavo grado, había empezado kickboxing y defensa personal. Había aprendido pronto: nadie vendría a salvarla. Uno de los hombres, con el brazo doblado en la dirección incorrecta, empezó a arrastrarse hacia ella. Los ojos de Claudia se posaron sobre él, fríos y afilados. Antes de que pudiera moverse, una bota cayó con fuerza, enviando al tipo volando. Una sombra se cernió sobre ella: un hombre alto con una sonrisa perezosa y el tipo de rostro que podría salirse con la suya cometiendo un asesinato. La miró desde arriba, haciendo un clic suave con la lengua. "Tss. ¿De dónde ha salido esta criaturita?" Capítulo 3 Sterling Romero salió de la Mansión Romero esa noche, lo suficientemente enfadado como para dejar su coche a medio camino a casa y sacar al perro a pasear. Lo que no esperaba era toparse con esa escena. Allí estaba ella, un capullo de rosa hermoso y malherido, acorralado por una jauría de callejeros desaliñados. Parecía frágil, pero la forma en que levantaba la barbilla, los ojos ardiendo de desafío, lo atrajo directamente de vuelta al cachorro de lobo huérfano con el que había vivido en las montañas casi un mes cuando tenía diez años. Todo fanfarronería y dientes al descubierto, guardando su pequeño trozo de tierra. Débil, pero ardiendo de vida. Ese lobo había muerto por sus manos al final. ¿Y esta chica? Era el mismo tipo de criatura: pequeña, espinosa y lista para hacer sangrar a quien intentara hacerle daño. Su rostro ni siquiera se inmutó mientras rompía los brazos de esos matones como si fueran ramitas. Nada la conmovía. Sterling, que rara vez se preocupaba por nada, sintió un destello de interés que no podía sacudirse. En contra de su mejor juicio, intervino. De cerca, era aún más difícil de olvidar. Esos ojos, oscuros, claros, brillantes como una noche después de la lluvia, se engancharon en algo enterrado profundamente dentro de él. Cuando ella levantó la vista, sobresaltada, había un destello de luz estelar que le hizo picar los dedos, con ganas de alargar la mano, de cubrir esos ojos afilados e intrépidos. Bien. Ya había intervenido. Mejor llevarlo hasta el final. Y, honestamente, necesitaba desahogarse. El callejón se llenó de gritos. Hacía un minuto, esos matones solo estaban demasiado heridos para arrastrarse. ¿Ahora? Estaban hechos pedazos: brazos inútiles, piernas rotas, el pánico espeso en el aire. Se arrepentían de todo. El trabajo había sido simple: golpearla un poco, nada grave. Su jefe incluso les había advertido que no dejaran marcas. Pero ella era demasiado hermosa, y unos cuantos se volvieron codiciosos. ¿Quién podría haber imaginado que la belleza delicada pegaba como un demonio, y lo que era peor, que un hombre como él aparecería de la nada? Frío, letal, como la Muerte misma con un abrigo de diseñador. Si el asesinato fuera legal, estaban seguros de que les habría roto el cuello sin pestañear. El cabecilla ya estaba perdiendo la cabeza. Sterling volvió paseando hasta donde la chica yacía observando desde el suelo. Su tono llevaba un rastro de diversión maliciosa. "Eres rápida, pero no lo suficiente despiadada. Si dejas cabos sueltos así, volverán para morderte. Entonces, pequeña callejera, ¿cómo piensas pagarme esta noche?" Claudia, que podría haber manejado la pelea bien por sí sola, y que ahora de alguna manera le debía algo a este extraño, guardó silencio. Tumbada de espaldas, el rostro surcado de sangre y polvo, de alguna manera parecía irreal en la oscuridad. Sterling frunció el ceño. Sucio. Se inclinó para levantar a la silenciosa rosa a sus pies, entonces algo lo empujó con fuerza. Tropezó, perdió el equilibrio y cayó justo encima de ella. Su peso aplastó su brazo herido; su mano izquierda aterrizó sobre algo más suave. Sus dedos se tensaron y apretaron antes de que su cerebro reaccionara. Se quedó helado. Ella también. Sus ojos se encontraron, muy abiertos en mutua conmoción. A unos metros de distancia, el perro pastor culpable se sentó parpadeando, como diciendo: Por favor, no me vean. Inmovilizada bajo un extraño, con todo dolorido, Claudia respiró hondo y tembloroso. Guapo o no, un grupo seguía siendo un grupo. Su expresión calmada se volvió feroz. Sterling oyó las primeras palabras de la rosa para él esa noche. "¿Nadie te dijo nunca?" "¿Decirme qué?" "Que no metas la nariz en los asuntos de otros." Antes de que la última palabra se desvaneciera, le rodeó el cuello con los brazos y lo tiró hacia abajo. Sus frentes chocaron con un crujido. El dolor se disparó. "¡Agente! ¡Por aquí!" Su voz sonó clara. Segundos después, las sirenas partieron la noche. Los policías vinieron corriendo. Sterling, al darse cuenta de que acababa de ser utilizado, dejó escapar una risa baja e incrédula. "¿Así tratas a tu salvador?" Terminó tumbado exactamente donde ella había estado, su voz goteando sarcasmo. Claudia se puso de pie, medio en sombras, y le dedicó una sonrisa delgada. "Obviamente. Soy la villana desagradecida, ¿recuerdas?" … Esa noche, el chico de oro de Liberty City, el heredero de Romero Corporation, fue llevado a la comisaría. Clint apareció rápido con un abogado, echando miradas furtivas a la chica que despertó la rara misericordia del Segador… y luego lo denunció por acoso. ¿Valiente, verdad? Era hermosa, y claramente no le temía a nada. Una vez que los matones fueron registrados, Clint se preparó, esperando a que Sterling dijera la palabra: Encárgate de ella. En cambio, Sterling dijo: "Averigua quién es." "¿Quién?" La palabra se le escapó antes de que Clint pudiera detenerse. Sterling nunca mostraba interés en ninguna mujer. La sola idea daba miedo. La mirada de Sterling se clavó en él, lo suficientemente afilada para hacerlo callar. "Sí, señor", murmuró Clint rápidamente. Mirando a la chica alejarse a zancadas después de lanzar una última mirada ardiente por encima del hombro, Clint sintió una punzada de lástima. Eso era todo. Ella y toda su familia estaban acabadas. … Ajena a la tormenta que acababa de desatar, Claudia se arrastró a casa al amanecer, perseguida por una ráfaga de llamadas. Su padre, Wilson Lancaster, la recibió en la puerta con una bofetada sonora. "¿Cómo he criado a una hija como tú?" No esquivó a tiempo. Su mejilla pálida enrojeció e hinchó. La habitación se quedó helada. Jasper frunció el ceño, con dolor destellando en sus ojos. Se obligó a no intervenir. Claudia había cruzado la línea esta vez; si no aprendía, quién sabía qué caos provocaría después. Aun así… Wilson había golpeado demasiado fuerte. La visión le retorció algo en el pecho. Lottie, Clarence y Zane llevaban la misma expresión enfadada y decepcionada. En el sofá, los ojos de Lydia brillaban con una alegría mal disimulada. Había estado furiosa la noche anterior porque los cretinos que contrató habían metido la pata y terminado en la comisaría. Por suerte, había cubierto sus huellas. Habían afirmado que fue solo un agarre "en un momento de arrebato", y como no pasó nada grave, no había nada que la vinculara a ella. Había sido dada de alta esa mañana y soltó el cebo que tenía preparado desde hacía tiempo. Los Lancaster se lo tragaron entero. Después de desaparecer toda la noche, nadie preguntó dónde había estado Claudia, ni notó sus heridas. La recibieron con una bofetada. Esa era su familia. Claudia no discutió. Caminó directamente hacia la pequeña Lydia, presumida y satisfecha.
Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now.Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now. Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia Capítulo 1 ¡Bum! Las puertas de la sala del evento se abrieron de golpe. "¡Algo le ha pasado a Lydia!", gritó un hombre al entrar tambaleándose, con el pánico pintado en el rostro. Las palabras impactaron como una bomba. La sala —decorada con flores, lazos y música romántica, bullendo de emoción por la propuesta— quedó instantáneamente en silencio. El hombre en el centro de atención, aún de rodillas, con el anillo en la mano, se giró sobresaltado. "¿Qué acabas de decir?" Quade Zimmer, con su pelo teñido de azul tan estridente como su voz, soltó: "¡La señora Lancaster acaba de llamar! ¡Lydia ha tenido un accidente de coche! ¡Está en el hospital ahora mismo!" Apenas habían salido las palabras de su boca cuando estalló el caos: sillas arrastrándose, tacones repiqueteando, gente apresurándose hacia la puerta. No era una exageración decir que Lydia Wallace era la chica de moda de su círculo: hermosa, talentosa, frágil de esa forma desgarradora que hacía que la gente quisiera protegerla. Todos la adoraban, la compadecían, la veneraban. ¿Y ahora que su diosa estaba herida? A nadie le quedaba corazón para seguir celebrando una propuesta de matrimonio cuya respuesta todos ya conocían. Incluso el chico que proponía lo dejó todo y salió corriendo. "Jasper—" La voz que pronunció su nombre llegó por detrás —suave, apenas más que un suspiro. Fue entonces cuando todos finalmente se dieron cuenta: la mujer a la que le estaban pidiendo matrimonio no había dicho ni una palabra en todo este tiempo. Alguien debió de haber dado a los interruptores en el caos, porque la sala se oscureció. La única luz provenía de las suaves lámparas de la pared. En un rincón, mitad en sombras, mitad en luz, estaba Claudia Lancaster. Su belleza no era del tipo dulce y gentil —era marcada, impactante, inolvidable. Pero en ese momento, su calma resultaba inquietante. Su expresión no revelaba nada. "¿No quieres oír mi respuesta?", preguntó en voz baja. Hacía apenas un minuto, Jasper Fenton le había pedido que se casara con él. Ahora, a medio camino de la puerta, se detuvo en seco. Ni siquiera intentó explicarse. "Claudia, lo siento. Tengo que ir al hospital. Vete a casa primero, ¿vale?" "¿Y si no te dejo ir?" Su voz se mantuvo firme. "Jasper, sabes que la odio." Jasper suspiró, exasperado. "Claudia, ahora no. No es momento para empezar una pelea." "Mi respuesta… puede que solo la obtengas una vez", dijo, tan calmada como siempre. Algo en su tono le hizo hacer una pausa. Normalmente, en cuanto salía el nombre de Lydia, Claudia estallaba —espetando, poniendo los ojos en blanco, maldiciendo a Lydia entre dientes. Pero esta noche, estaba fría, distante. Casi como si lo hubiera estado esperando. Un destello de inquietud le recorrió la espalda a Jasper. "Oh, por favor", intervino Quade, poniendo los ojos en blanco. "Has estado obsesionada con Jasper desde, ¿qué, la secundaria? El tipo finalmente te propone matrimonio y ¿se supone que debemos creer que dirías que no?" "Sí, alguien podría estar muriéndose en serio. Te pueden proponer matrimonio cualquier otro día", añadió alguien más. "¡Exacto! Las familias arreglaron esto hace siglos, toda esta cosa es solo por apariencias." Los comentarios dolían, pero Claudia ni siquiera parpadeó. Sus ojos oscuros permanecieron clavados en Jasper. Esperando. Jasper dejó escapar otro suspiro y volvió hacia ella. Como siempre, le despeinó el cabello como si fuera una niña. "Pórtate bien, ¿vale? No montes una escena. Lydia podría estar gravemente herida. Este no es el momento para una rabieta." Siempre era así. Cada vez que Lydia estaba involucrada, Jasper nunca preguntaba quién tenía razón o no. Corría a consolar a Lydia primero, y luego volvía a regañar a Claudia, suave y paciente, como si fuera una niña mimada que simplemente no entendía. Así se sentía amar a alguien desde abajo. No importaba cuánto gritaras, tu ira era solo "graciosa". Nunca seria. ¿Esta propuesta? Nunca había sido una pregunta real. Jasper ya sabía cuál debería haber sido su respuesta. "¡Oh, al diablo con esto, no puedo quedarme callada más tiempo!" Whitney Sawyer golpeó su bolso de mano contra algo, con furia destellando en sus ojos. Había estado aguantándose desde que Quade irrumpió, pero ya era suficiente. "Jasper, ¿eres su novio o su ambulancia personal? ¿Cómo es que cada vez que Lydia sufre 'un accidente', te llama a ti? Siempre perfectamente sincronizado, siempre arruinando tus planes. ¡La última vez fue una cita, ahora es tu propuesta! ¿Qué, no podía esperar a morirse cinco minutos?" Como mejor amiga de Claudia, Whitney había pasado semanas planeando esta propuesta. Y ahora, una vez más, Lydia la había secuestrado, y Jasper había caído directamente en la trampa. La furia de Whitney se extendió como un incendio forestal. "¡Y el resto de ustedes! ¿Para qué corren, a visitarla o a planear su funeral? ¡A este paso, Lydia ya debería haber muerto cien veces!" "¡Whitney!" El rostro de Jasper se ensombreció; el hombre gentil y afable desapareció. Su voz sonó como un latigazo. "Mide tus palabras." "Oh, perdóname." La voz de Whitney subió de tono, aguda y furiosa. "¿No soportas oír criticar a tu preciosa Lydia? Jasper, ¿acaso recuerdas quién es tu novia?" Los ojos de Jasper se helaron. Claudia le agarró el brazo a Whitney, con voz tranquila pero firme. "Si sales por esa puerta, Jasper, terminamos." Ya se había perdido demasiado tiempo. Jasper se pellizcó el puente de la nariz y suspiró. "No digas algo de lo que te arrepentirás. Claudia, hablaremos cuando vuelva." Se dio la vuelta y salió con paso firme, sin mirar atrás. Ni siquiera sabía lo graves que eran las lesiones de Lydia, solo sabía que tenía que ir. Se dijo a sí mismo: Cuando vuelva, lo compensaré. Le haré una propuesta aún mejor. También tomó nota mental de decirle a Claudia que se alejara de Whitney; claramente esa chica le estaba llenando la cabeza de tonterías. La sala se hundió bajo el peso de todo. Incluso aquellos que pensaban que Claudia estaba siendo dramática se mordieron la lengua. Nadie quería contrariar a Jasper, ni a los Sawyer. Uno a uno, se escabulleron. En minutos, el lugar era irreconocible. Pétalos de rosa aplastados y lazos cubrían el suelo. Botellas de vino rodaban bajo las sillas. Glaseado embadurnaba la alfombra. Toda la escena parecía una parodia de lo que había sido, burlándose de lo ridículo que era todo. Mientras los últimos rezagados se quedaban, alguien frunció el ceño. "Esperen… Lydia es la hija adoptiva de los Lancaster, ¿verdad? Oí que es prima de Claudia. ¿Por qué nadie llamó a Claudia también?" "¿Llamarla? ¿Qué, quieren empeorar aún más las lesiones de Lydia?" "Vaya, ¿qué se supone que significa eso?" "Lo de siempre. Que la señorita Lancaster es fría, cruel, desagradecida… ya sabes cómo va." Los susurros comenzaron de nuevo, suaves, venenosos y familiares. Siempre lo hacían cuando el nombre de Lydia salía junto al de Claudia. El rostro de Whitney ardía de ira. Se volvió hacia Claudia, de repente preocupada. Los cotilleos de extraños no importaban, pero ¿la traición de alguien a quien amas? Eso siempre calaba más hondo. Claudia observó la espalda de Jasper mientras se alejaba, cada paso alejándolo más de ella. Era como ver los años escurriéndose entre sus dedos, el chico con el que había crecido desvaneciéndose a lo lejos. Whitney le había preguntado una vez: Si nada hubiera interrumpido esta noche, ¿habrías dicho que sí? Pero, honestamente: No importara cuál fuera su respuesta, el final habría sido el mismo. Lydia nunca la dejaría ganar. Y Jasper nunca la elegiría a ella. En el momento en que le dio la espalda, no se dio cuenta de que, aunque el futuro pueda parecer interminable, la mujer dispuesta a esperarte no dura para siempre. Jasper… esta vez, realmente te dejo ir. En la mesa, entre el desorden, el teléfono de Claudia vibró. Una notificación de WhatsApp apareció, breve y suficiente. "Perdiste." Capítulo 2 Tres días antes, Lydia había acorralado a Claudia. "Sabes que Jasper está a punto de proponerte matrimonio, ¿verdad?" Sus bonitos ojos brillaban, no de emoción, sino de celos y malicia. "Oí que ambas familias querían pasar directamente a la fiesta de compromiso, pero él insistió en hacerlo bien. Dijo que necesitaba oír tu 'sí' él mismo, o no significaría nada. Ayy, qué romántico, ¿no?" "¿Y qué?" Claudia levantó la vista, su tono plano, sin inmutarse. La sonrisa de Lydia se curvó, afilada y venenosa. "¿Y qué? Claudia, ¿qué hace que una pecadora como tú crea que merece felicidad?" Se inclinó más cerca, con voz azucarada pero goteando veneno. "¿Quieres apostar? En tres días, esa propuesta ni siquiera ocurrirá." Claudia solo la miró fijamente. Para todos los demás, Lydia era pura perfección: de voz suave, gentil, toda gracia y luz. Nadie creería que a puerta cerrada podía escupir veneno así. Podría haber detenido la propuesta en cualquier momento que quisiera. Pero no. A Lydia le gustaba el drama. Quería esperar hasta el acto final, para empujar a Claudia fuera del escenario ella misma. Como siempre hacía. … Después de que la propuesta se fuera al traste, el teléfono de Whitney sonó. Una mirada a la identificación de la llamada, y su rostro se demudó. Maldijo entre dientes y salió corriendo. Había planeado dejar a Claudia primero —Claudia había llegado en el coche de Jasper—, pero cuando Claudia se dio cuenta de que algo pasaba con la madre de Whitney, la instó a irse. Cuando todos los demás se habían ido, Claudia se quedó entre los escombros de flores aplastadas y copas de champán, con la cabeza agachada, su expresión ilegible. Dejó escapar una risita amarga. Era tarde. Las calles afuera estaban tranquilas y vacías. Claudia salió del club sin ganas de ir a casa. Vagó junto al río, el frío de la noche calándole la piel. Entonces, se detuvo en seco. Los vellos de su nuca se erizaron: alguien la seguía. Levantó su teléfono, fingiendo tomar una selfie, inclinándolo lo justo para ver el reflejo detrás de ella. Un grupo de hombres, sombras acercándose. Su pulso se disparó. Empezó a caminar más rápido. Ellos también. Su pulgar se cernió sobre su contacto de emergencia —el número que Jasper la había obligado a configurar hacía un año. En aquel entonces, le había roto el brazo a un acosador por molestar a una chica y había terminado en la comisaría. Jasper la sacó bajo fianza, regañándola durante todo el trayecto a casa por ser imprudente. Se había puesto a sí mismo como su contacto de emergencia, haciéndole prometer que si alguna vez estaba en peligro, lo llamaría a él, sin heroísmos, sin orgullo. Había jurado que sin importar dónde o cuándo, iría por ella. Nunca imaginó que la primera vez que llamaría sería así. "¿Claudia?" La voz de Jasper llegó, baja y cansada. Estaba en el hospital. El accidente de Lydia no había sido grave, pero ella era frágil —nacida prematura, se alteraba fácilmente. Solo él podía calmarla. Todo el clan Lancaster estaba acampado fuera. Lydia acababa de quedarse dormida cuando llegó la llamada, despertándola de un salto. "Jasper, alguien me está siguiendo." Silencio. Luego, su voz, fría, desdeñosa. "Claudia, realmente no puedo irme esta noche. No montes una escena." Pensó que estaba mintiendo, intentando alejarlo otra vez del lado de la cama de Lydia. Justo entonces, la madre de Lydia, Lottie Wallace, entró con un vaso de agua. Su rostro suave y elegante se endureció al ver el teléfono en la mano de Jasper. "¡Claudia!", espetó. "Lydia acaba de tener un accidente, y ni siquiera te molestas en visitar. ¿Ahora estás quién sabe dónde, inventando historias? ¿Cuándo vas a crecer? Escucha: nadie se va esta noche. Deja ya tus juegos mezquinos." Colgó sin dudar. En la cama, Lydia yacía pálida y temblorosa. Su voz era pequeña, vacilante. "Mamá, no te enfades. ¿Y si Claudia realmente está en problemas?" Lottie suspiró, la decepción grabada a fuego. "¿Qué problemas podría tener? Esta no es la primera vez que intenta algo cuando tú estás enferma." En la secundaria, Claudia una vez había llamado a casa en medio de la noche, diciendo que la habían secuestrado y exigiendo dinero de rescate. Esa misma noche, Lydia había caído enferma. La familia ya estaba en pánico, y la supuesta llamada de rescate casi le da un infarto a Lottie. Habían corrido a la ubicación, solo para encontrar a Claudia saliendo ilesa, sin un rasguño. Para cuando volvieron a casa, Lydia se había desplomado en el suelo, sola. Era demasiado tarde cuando finalmente la llevaron al hospital. El doctor dijo que con otro retraso, no habría sobrevivido. Esa noche, el padre de Claudia la había golpeado hasta dejarla sangrando. Pasó un mes en el hospital, y nunca se disculpó. La voz de Lottie se suavizó, cargada de decepción. "¿Cuándo se volvió así mi dulce niña?" Jasper conocía cada palabra de esa historia. Incluso había sido él quien llevaba snacks a escondidas a la cama de Claudia en el hospital después, contando chistes estúpidos para hacerla reír. Pero esta noche era diferente. Se dijo a sí mismo que solo estaba haciendo una rabieta por la propuesta arruinada. No tenía energía para sus pataletas. Mañana, cuando se calmara, hablaría con ella, la haría sonreír de nuevo. Colgó, apartó el cabello de la frente de Lydia y susurró: "Se te ha ido la fiebre. Pórtate bien. Duerme." Los ojos de Lydia brillaron con culpa y suavidad. "Jasper, lo siento por esta noche. Es toda mi culpa. Si no fuera tan débil—" "No. Nunca eres una carga." "Jasper…" "Duerme." Sus pestañas aletearon y se cerraron, y una pequeña sonrisa curvó sus labios. Dormiría tranquila esa noche. … Detrás de Claudia, los hombres se acercaban, lentos, perezosos, como gatos jugando con un ratón. Ella siguió corriendo, la voz de Jasper y el regaño de Lottie resonando en su mente. Tal vez había estado decepcionada demasiadas veces, porque ni siquiera se sentía triste ya, solo vacía. Hueca. La noche de abril era cálida, pero cortaba como cristal. La empujaron a un rincón oscuro. Claudia se detuvo bajo un árbol, su expresión calmada, los ojos bajándose al suelo. Entonces, se movió. Quince minutos después, los hombres yacían esparcidos por el pavimento —brazos retorcidos, piernas rotas, gimiendo de dolor. Claudia, sin aliento y sangrando, se dejó caer en el bordillo. Agarró su teléfono con una mano resbaladiza de sangre y marcó al 911. Después de ese lío en octavo grado, había empezado kickboxing y defensa personal. Había aprendido pronto: nadie vendría a salvarla. Uno de los hombres, con el brazo doblado en la dirección incorrecta, empezó a arrastrarse hacia ella. Los ojos de Claudia se posaron sobre él, fríos y afilados. Antes de que pudiera moverse, una bota cayó con fuerza, enviando al tipo volando. Una sombra se cernió sobre ella: un hombre alto con una sonrisa perezosa y el tipo de rostro que podría salirse con la suya cometiendo un asesinato. La miró desde arriba, haciendo un clic suave con la lengua. "Tss. ¿De dónde ha salido esta criaturita?" Capítulo 3 Sterling Romero salió de la Mansión Romero esa noche, lo suficientemente enfadado como para dejar su coche a medio camino a casa y sacar al perro a pasear. Lo que no esperaba era toparse con esa escena. Allí estaba ella, un capullo de rosa hermoso y malherido, acorralado por una jauría de callejeros desaliñados. Parecía frágil, pero la forma en que levantaba la barbilla, los ojos ardiendo de desafío, lo atrajo directamente de vuelta al cachorro de lobo huérfano con el que había vivido en las montañas casi un mes cuando tenía diez años. Todo fanfarronería y dientes al descubierto, guardando su pequeño trozo de tierra. Débil, pero ardiendo de vida. Ese lobo había muerto por sus manos al final. ¿Y esta chica? Era el mismo tipo de criatura: pequeña, espinosa y lista para hacer sangrar a quien intentara hacerle daño. Su rostro ni siquiera se inmutó mientras rompía los brazos de esos matones como si fueran ramitas. Nada la conmovía. Sterling, que rara vez se preocupaba por nada, sintió un destello de interés que no podía sacudirse. En contra de su mejor juicio, intervino. De cerca, era aún más difícil de olvidar. Esos ojos, oscuros, claros, brillantes como una noche después de la lluvia, se engancharon en algo enterrado profundamente dentro de él. Cuando ella levantó la vista, sobresaltada, había un destello de luz estelar que le hizo picar los dedos, con ganas de alargar la mano, de cubrir esos ojos afilados e intrépidos. Bien. Ya había intervenido. Mejor llevarlo hasta el final. Y, honestamente, necesitaba desahogarse. El callejón se llenó de gritos. Hacía un minuto, esos matones solo estaban demasiado heridos para arrastrarse. ¿Ahora? Estaban hechos pedazos: brazos inútiles, piernas rotas, el pánico espeso en el aire. Se arrepentían de todo. El trabajo había sido simple: golpearla un poco, nada grave. Su jefe incluso les había advertido que no dejaran marcas. Pero ella era demasiado hermosa, y unos cuantos se volvieron codiciosos. ¿Quién podría haber imaginado que la belleza delicada pegaba como un demonio, y lo que era peor, que un hombre como él aparecería de la nada? Frío, letal, como la Muerte misma con un abrigo de diseñador. Si el asesinato fuera legal, estaban seguros de que les habría roto el cuello sin pestañear. El cabecilla ya estaba perdiendo la cabeza. Sterling volvió paseando hasta donde la chica yacía observando desde el suelo. Su tono llevaba un rastro de diversión maliciosa. "Eres rápida, pero no lo suficiente despiadada. Si dejas cabos sueltos así, volverán para morderte. Entonces, pequeña callejera, ¿cómo piensas pagarme esta noche?" Claudia, que podría haber manejado la pelea bien por sí sola, y que ahora de alguna manera le debía algo a este extraño, guardó silencio. Tumbada de espaldas, el rostro surcado de sangre y polvo, de alguna manera parecía irreal en la oscuridad. Sterling frunció el ceño. Sucio. Se inclinó para levantar a la silenciosa rosa a sus pies, entonces algo lo empujó con fuerza. Tropezó, perdió el equilibrio y cayó justo encima de ella. Su peso aplastó su brazo herido; su mano izquierda aterrizó sobre algo más suave. Sus dedos se tensaron y apretaron antes de que su cerebro reaccionara. Se quedó helado. Ella también. Sus ojos se encontraron, muy abiertos en mutua conmoción. A unos metros de distancia, el perro pastor culpable se sentó parpadeando, como diciendo: Por favor, no me vean. Inmovilizada bajo un extraño, con todo dolorido, Claudia respiró hondo y tembloroso. Guapo o no, un grupo seguía siendo un grupo. Su expresión calmada se volvió feroz. Sterling oyó las primeras palabras de la rosa para él esa noche. "¿Nadie te dijo nunca?" "¿Decirme qué?" "Que no metas la nariz en los asuntos de otros." Antes de que la última palabra se desvaneciera, le rodeó el cuello con los brazos y lo tiró hacia abajo. Sus frentes chocaron con un crujido. El dolor se disparó. "¡Agente! ¡Por aquí!" Su voz sonó clara. Segundos después, las sirenas partieron la noche. Los policías vinieron corriendo. Sterling, al darse cuenta de que acababa de ser utilizado, dejó escapar una risa baja e incrédula. "¿Así tratas a tu salvador?" Terminó tumbado exactamente donde ella había estado, su voz goteando sarcasmo. Claudia se puso de pie, medio en sombras, y le dedicó una sonrisa delgada. "Obviamente. Soy la villana desagradecida, ¿recuerdas?" … Esa noche, el chico de oro de Liberty City, el heredero de Romero Corporation, fue llevado a la comisaría. Clint apareció rápido con un abogado, echando miradas furtivas a la chica que despertó la rara misericordia del Segador… y luego lo denunció por acoso. ¿Valiente, verdad? Era hermosa, y claramente no le temía a nada. Una vez que los matones fueron registrados, Clint se preparó, esperando a que Sterling dijera la palabra: Encárgate de ella. En cambio, Sterling dijo: "Averigua quién es." "¿Quién?" La palabra se le escapó antes de que Clint pudiera detenerse. Sterling nunca mostraba interés en ninguna mujer. La sola idea daba miedo. La mirada de Sterling se clavó en él, lo suficientemente afilada para hacerlo callar. "Sí, señor", murmuró Clint rápidamente. Mirando a la chica alejarse a zancadas después de lanzar una última mirada ardiente por encima del hombro, Clint sintió una punzada de lástima. Eso era todo. Ella y toda su familia estaban acabadas. … Ajena a la tormenta que acababa de desatar, Claudia se arrastró a casa al amanecer, perseguida por una ráfaga de llamadas. Su padre, Wilson Lancaster, la recibió en la puerta con una bofetada sonora. "¿Cómo he criado a una hija como tú?" No esquivó a tiempo. Su mejilla pálida enrojeció e hinchó. La habitación se quedó helada. Jasper frunció el ceño, con dolor destellando en sus ojos. Se obligó a no intervenir. Claudia había cruzado la línea esta vez; si no aprendía, quién sabía qué caos provocaría después. Aun así… Wilson había golpeado demasiado fuerte. La visión le retorció algo en el pecho. Lottie, Clarence y Zane llevaban la misma expresión enfadada y decepcionada. En el sofá, los ojos de Lydia brillaban con una alegría mal disimulada. Había estado furiosa la noche anterior porque los cretinos que contrató habían metido la pata y terminado en la comisaría. Por suerte, había cubierto sus huellas. Habían afirmado que fue solo un agarre "en un momento de arrebato", y como no pasó nada grave, no había nada que la vinculara a ella. Había sido dada de alta esa mañana y soltó el cebo que tenía preparado desde hacía tiempo. Los Lancaster se lo tragaron entero. Después de desaparecer toda la noche, nadie preguntó dónde había estado Claudia, ni notó sus heridas. La recibieron con una bofetada. Esa era su familia. Claudia no discutió. Caminó directamente hacia la pequeña Lydia, presumida y satisfecha.
Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now.Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now. Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia Capítulo 1 ¡Bum! Las puertas de la sala del evento se abrieron de golpe. "¡Algo le ha pasado a Lydia!", gritó un hombre al entrar tambaleándose, con el pánico pintado en el rostro. Las palabras impactaron como una bomba. La sala —decorada con flores, lazos y música romántica, bullendo de emoción por la propuesta— quedó instantáneamente en silencio. El hombre en el centro de atención, aún de rodillas, con el anillo en la mano, se giró sobresaltado. "¿Qué acabas de decir?" Quade Zimmer, con su pelo teñido de azul tan estridente como su voz, soltó: "¡La señora Lancaster acaba de llamar! ¡Lydia ha tenido un accidente de coche! ¡Está en el hospital ahora mismo!" Apenas habían salido las palabras de su boca cuando estalló el caos: sillas arrastrándose, tacones repiqueteando, gente apresurándose hacia la puerta. No era una exageración decir que Lydia Wallace era la chica de moda de su círculo: hermosa, talentosa, frágil de esa forma desgarradora que hacía que la gente quisiera protegerla. Todos la adoraban, la compadecían, la veneraban. ¿Y ahora que su diosa estaba herida? A nadie le quedaba corazón para seguir celebrando una propuesta de matrimonio cuya respuesta todos ya conocían. Incluso el chico que proponía lo dejó todo y salió corriendo. "Jasper—" La voz que pronunció su nombre llegó por detrás —suave, apenas más que un suspiro. Fue entonces cuando todos finalmente se dieron cuenta: la mujer a la que le estaban pidiendo matrimonio no había dicho ni una palabra en todo este tiempo. Alguien debió de haber dado a los interruptores en el caos, porque la sala se oscureció. La única luz provenía de las suaves lámparas de la pared. En un rincón, mitad en sombras, mitad en luz, estaba Claudia Lancaster. Su belleza no era del tipo dulce y gentil —era marcada, impactante, inolvidable. Pero en ese momento, su calma resultaba inquietante. Su expresión no revelaba nada. "¿No quieres oír mi respuesta?", preguntó en voz baja. Hacía apenas un minuto, Jasper Fenton le había pedido que se casara con él. Ahora, a medio camino de la puerta, se detuvo en seco. Ni siquiera intentó explicarse. "Claudia, lo siento. Tengo que ir al hospital. Vete a casa primero, ¿vale?" "¿Y si no te dejo ir?" Su voz se mantuvo firme. "Jasper, sabes que la odio." Jasper suspiró, exasperado. "Claudia, ahora no. No es momento para empezar una pelea." "Mi respuesta… puede que solo la obtengas una vez", dijo, tan calmada como siempre. Algo en su tono le hizo hacer una pausa. Normalmente, en cuanto salía el nombre de Lydia, Claudia estallaba —espetando, poniendo los ojos en blanco, maldiciendo a Lydia entre dientes. Pero esta noche, estaba fría, distante. Casi como si lo hubiera estado esperando. Un destello de inquietud le recorrió la espalda a Jasper. "Oh, por favor", intervino Quade, poniendo los ojos en blanco. "Has estado obsesionada con Jasper desde, ¿qué, la secundaria? El tipo finalmente te propone matrimonio y ¿se supone que debemos creer que dirías que no?" "Sí, alguien podría estar muriéndose en serio. Te pueden proponer matrimonio cualquier otro día", añadió alguien más. "¡Exacto! Las familias arreglaron esto hace siglos, toda esta cosa es solo por apariencias." Los comentarios dolían, pero Claudia ni siquiera parpadeó. Sus ojos oscuros permanecieron clavados en Jasper. Esperando. Jasper dejó escapar otro suspiro y volvió hacia ella. Como siempre, le despeinó el cabello como si fuera una niña. "Pórtate bien, ¿vale? No montes una escena. Lydia podría estar gravemente herida. Este no es el momento para una rabieta." Siempre era así. Cada vez que Lydia estaba involucrada, Jasper nunca preguntaba quién tenía razón o no. Corría a consolar a Lydia primero, y luego volvía a regañar a Claudia, suave y paciente, como si fuera una niña mimada que simplemente no entendía. Así se sentía amar a alguien desde abajo. No importaba cuánto gritaras, tu ira era solo "graciosa". Nunca seria. ¿Esta propuesta? Nunca había sido una pregunta real. Jasper ya sabía cuál debería haber sido su respuesta. "¡Oh, al diablo con esto, no puedo quedarme callada más tiempo!" Whitney Sawyer golpeó su bolso de mano contra algo, con furia destellando en sus ojos. Había estado aguantándose desde que Quade irrumpió, pero ya era suficiente. "Jasper, ¿eres su novio o su ambulancia personal? ¿Cómo es que cada vez que Lydia sufre 'un accidente', te llama a ti? Siempre perfectamente sincronizado, siempre arruinando tus planes. ¡La última vez fue una cita, ahora es tu propuesta! ¿Qué, no podía esperar a morirse cinco minutos?" Como mejor amiga de Claudia, Whitney había pasado semanas planeando esta propuesta. Y ahora, una vez más, Lydia la había secuestrado, y Jasper había caído directamente en la trampa. La furia de Whitney se extendió como un incendio forestal. "¡Y el resto de ustedes! ¿Para qué corren, a visitarla o a planear su funeral? ¡A este paso, Lydia ya debería haber muerto cien veces!" "¡Whitney!" El rostro de Jasper se ensombreció; el hombre gentil y afable desapareció. Su voz sonó como un latigazo. "Mide tus palabras." "Oh, perdóname." La voz de Whitney subió de tono, aguda y furiosa. "¿No soportas oír criticar a tu preciosa Lydia? Jasper, ¿acaso recuerdas quién es tu novia?" Los ojos de Jasper se helaron. Claudia le agarró el brazo a Whitney, con voz tranquila pero firme. "Si sales por esa puerta, Jasper, terminamos." Ya se había perdido demasiado tiempo. Jasper se pellizcó el puente de la nariz y suspiró. "No digas algo de lo que te arrepentirás. Claudia, hablaremos cuando vuelva." Se dio la vuelta y salió con paso firme, sin mirar atrás. Ni siquiera sabía lo graves que eran las lesiones de Lydia, solo sabía que tenía que ir. Se dijo a sí mismo: Cuando vuelva, lo compensaré. Le haré una propuesta aún mejor. También tomó nota mental de decirle a Claudia que se alejara de Whitney; claramente esa chica le estaba llenando la cabeza de tonterías. La sala se hundió bajo el peso de todo. Incluso aquellos que pensaban que Claudia estaba siendo dramática se mordieron la lengua. Nadie quería contrariar a Jasper, ni a los Sawyer. Uno a uno, se escabulleron. En minutos, el lugar era irreconocible. Pétalos de rosa aplastados y lazos cubrían el suelo. Botellas de vino rodaban bajo las sillas. Glaseado embadurnaba la alfombra. Toda la escena parecía una parodia de lo que había sido, burlándose de lo ridículo que era todo. Mientras los últimos rezagados se quedaban, alguien frunció el ceño. "Esperen… Lydia es la hija adoptiva de los Lancaster, ¿verdad? Oí que es prima de Claudia. ¿Por qué nadie llamó a Claudia también?" "¿Llamarla? ¿Qué, quieren empeorar aún más las lesiones de Lydia?" "Vaya, ¿qué se supone que significa eso?" "Lo de siempre. Que la señorita Lancaster es fría, cruel, desagradecida… ya sabes cómo va." Los susurros comenzaron de nuevo, suaves, venenosos y familiares. Siempre lo hacían cuando el nombre de Lydia salía junto al de Claudia. El rostro de Whitney ardía de ira. Se volvió hacia Claudia, de repente preocupada. Los cotilleos de extraños no importaban, pero ¿la traición de alguien a quien amas? Eso siempre calaba más hondo. Claudia observó la espalda de Jasper mientras se alejaba, cada paso alejándolo más de ella. Era como ver los años escurriéndose entre sus dedos, el chico con el que había crecido desvaneciéndose a lo lejos. Whitney le había preguntado una vez: Si nada hubiera interrumpido esta noche, ¿habrías dicho que sí? Pero, honestamente: No importara cuál fuera su respuesta, el final habría sido el mismo. Lydia nunca la dejaría ganar. Y Jasper nunca la elegiría a ella. En el momento en que le dio la espalda, no se dio cuenta de que, aunque el futuro pueda parecer interminable, la mujer dispuesta a esperarte no dura para siempre. Jasper… esta vez, realmente te dejo ir. En la mesa, entre el desorden, el teléfono de Claudia vibró. Una notificación de WhatsApp apareció, breve y suficiente. "Perdiste." Capítulo 2 Tres días antes, Lydia había acorralado a Claudia. "Sabes que Jasper está a punto de proponerte matrimonio, ¿verdad?" Sus bonitos ojos brillaban, no de emoción, sino de celos y malicia. "Oí que ambas familias querían pasar directamente a la fiesta de compromiso, pero él insistió en hacerlo bien. Dijo que necesitaba oír tu 'sí' él mismo, o no significaría nada. Ayy, qué romántico, ¿no?" "¿Y qué?" Claudia levantó la vista, su tono plano, sin inmutarse. La sonrisa de Lydia se curvó, afilada y venenosa. "¿Y qué? Claudia, ¿qué hace que una pecadora como tú crea que merece felicidad?" Se inclinó más cerca, con voz azucarada pero goteando veneno. "¿Quieres apostar? En tres días, esa propuesta ni siquiera ocurrirá." Claudia solo la miró fijamente. Para todos los demás, Lydia era pura perfección: de voz suave, gentil, toda gracia y luz. Nadie creería que a puerta cerrada podía escupir veneno así. Podría haber detenido la propuesta en cualquier momento que quisiera. Pero no. A Lydia le gustaba el drama. Quería esperar hasta el acto final, para empujar a Claudia fuera del escenario ella misma. Como siempre hacía. … Después de que la propuesta se fuera al traste, el teléfono de Whitney sonó. Una mirada a la identificación de la llamada, y su rostro se demudó. Maldijo entre dientes y salió corriendo. Había planeado dejar a Claudia primero —Claudia había llegado en el coche de Jasper—, pero cuando Claudia se dio cuenta de que algo pasaba con la madre de Whitney, la instó a irse. Cuando todos los demás se habían ido, Claudia se quedó entre los escombros de flores aplastadas y copas de champán, con la cabeza agachada, su expresión ilegible. Dejó escapar una risita amarga. Era tarde. Las calles afuera estaban tranquilas y vacías. Claudia salió del club sin ganas de ir a casa. Vagó junto al río, el frío de la noche calándole la piel. Entonces, se detuvo en seco. Los vellos de su nuca se erizaron: alguien la seguía. Levantó su teléfono, fingiendo tomar una selfie, inclinándolo lo justo para ver el reflejo detrás de ella. Un grupo de hombres, sombras acercándose. Su pulso se disparó. Empezó a caminar más rápido. Ellos también. Su pulgar se cernió sobre su contacto de emergencia —el número que Jasper la había obligado a configurar hacía un año. En aquel entonces, le había roto el brazo a un acosador por molestar a una chica y había terminado en la comisaría. Jasper la sacó bajo fianza, regañándola durante todo el trayecto a casa por ser imprudente. Se había puesto a sí mismo como su contacto de emergencia, haciéndole prometer que si alguna vez estaba en peligro, lo llamaría a él, sin heroísmos, sin orgullo. Había jurado que sin importar dónde o cuándo, iría por ella. Nunca imaginó que la primera vez que llamaría sería así. "¿Claudia?" La voz de Jasper llegó, baja y cansada. Estaba en el hospital. El accidente de Lydia no había sido grave, pero ella era frágil —nacida prematura, se alteraba fácilmente. Solo él podía calmarla. Todo el clan Lancaster estaba acampado fuera. Lydia acababa de quedarse dormida cuando llegó la llamada, despertándola de un salto. "Jasper, alguien me está siguiendo." Silencio. Luego, su voz, fría, desdeñosa. "Claudia, realmente no puedo irme esta noche. No montes una escena." Pensó que estaba mintiendo, intentando alejarlo otra vez del lado de la cama de Lydia. Justo entonces, la madre de Lydia, Lottie Wallace, entró con un vaso de agua. Su rostro suave y elegante se endureció al ver el teléfono en la mano de Jasper. "¡Claudia!", espetó. "Lydia acaba de tener un accidente, y ni siquiera te molestas en visitar. ¿Ahora estás quién sabe dónde, inventando historias? ¿Cuándo vas a crecer? Escucha: nadie se va esta noche. Deja ya tus juegos mezquinos." Colgó sin dudar. En la cama, Lydia yacía pálida y temblorosa. Su voz era pequeña, vacilante. "Mamá, no te enfades. ¿Y si Claudia realmente está en problemas?" Lottie suspiró, la decepción grabada a fuego. "¿Qué problemas podría tener? Esta no es la primera vez que intenta algo cuando tú estás enferma." En la secundaria, Claudia una vez había llamado a casa en medio de la noche, diciendo que la habían secuestrado y exigiendo dinero de rescate. Esa misma noche, Lydia había caído enferma. La familia ya estaba en pánico, y la supuesta llamada de rescate casi le da un infarto a Lottie. Habían corrido a la ubicación, solo para encontrar a Claudia saliendo ilesa, sin un rasguño. Para cuando volvieron a casa, Lydia se había desplomado en el suelo, sola. Era demasiado tarde cuando finalmente la llevaron al hospital. El doctor dijo que con otro retraso, no habría sobrevivido. Esa noche, el padre de Claudia la había golpeado hasta dejarla sangrando. Pasó un mes en el hospital, y nunca se disculpó. La voz de Lottie se suavizó, cargada de decepción. "¿Cuándo se volvió así mi dulce niña?" Jasper conocía cada palabra de esa historia. Incluso había sido él quien llevaba snacks a escondidas a la cama de Claudia en el hospital después, contando chistes estúpidos para hacerla reír. Pero esta noche era diferente. Se dijo a sí mismo que solo estaba haciendo una rabieta por la propuesta arruinada. No tenía energía para sus pataletas. Mañana, cuando se calmara, hablaría con ella, la haría sonreír de nuevo. Colgó, apartó el cabello de la frente de Lydia y susurró: "Se te ha ido la fiebre. Pórtate bien. Duerme." Los ojos de Lydia brillaron con culpa y suavidad. "Jasper, lo siento por esta noche. Es toda mi culpa. Si no fuera tan débil—" "No. Nunca eres una carga." "Jasper…" "Duerme." Sus pestañas aletearon y se cerraron, y una pequeña sonrisa curvó sus labios. Dormiría tranquila esa noche. … Detrás de Claudia, los hombres se acercaban, lentos, perezosos, como gatos jugando con un ratón. Ella siguió corriendo, la voz de Jasper y el regaño de Lottie resonando en su mente. Tal vez había estado decepcionada demasiadas veces, porque ni siquiera se sentía triste ya, solo vacía. Hueca. La noche de abril era cálida, pero cortaba como cristal. La empujaron a un rincón oscuro. Claudia se detuvo bajo un árbol, su expresión calmada, los ojos bajándose al suelo. Entonces, se movió. Quince minutos después, los hombres yacían esparcidos por el pavimento —brazos retorcidos, piernas rotas, gimiendo de dolor. Claudia, sin aliento y sangrando, se dejó caer en el bordillo. Agarró su teléfono con una mano resbaladiza de sangre y marcó al 911. Después de ese lío en octavo grado, había empezado kickboxing y defensa personal. Había aprendido pronto: nadie vendría a salvarla. Uno de los hombres, con el brazo doblado en la dirección incorrecta, empezó a arrastrarse hacia ella. Los ojos de Claudia se posaron sobre él, fríos y afilados. Antes de que pudiera moverse, una bota cayó con fuerza, enviando al tipo volando. Una sombra se cernió sobre ella: un hombre alto con una sonrisa perezosa y el tipo de rostro que podría salirse con la suya cometiendo un asesinato. La miró desde arriba, haciendo un clic suave con la lengua. "Tss. ¿De dónde ha salido esta criaturita?" Capítulo 3 Sterling Romero salió de la Mansión Romero esa noche, lo suficientemente enfadado como para dejar su coche a medio camino a casa y sacar al perro a pasear. Lo que no esperaba era toparse con esa escena. Allí estaba ella, un capullo de rosa hermoso y malherido, acorralado por una jauría de callejeros desaliñados. Parecía frágil, pero la forma en que levantaba la barbilla, los ojos ardiendo de desafío, lo atrajo directamente de vuelta al cachorro de lobo huérfano con el que había vivido en las montañas casi un mes cuando tenía diez años. Todo fanfarronería y dientes al descubierto, guardando su pequeño trozo de tierra. Débil, pero ardiendo de vida. Ese lobo había muerto por sus manos al final. ¿Y esta chica? Era el mismo tipo de criatura: pequeña, espinosa y lista para hacer sangrar a quien intentara hacerle daño. Su rostro ni siquiera se inmutó mientras rompía los brazos de esos matones como si fueran ramitas. Nada la conmovía. Sterling, que rara vez se preocupaba por nada, sintió un destello de interés que no podía sacudirse. En contra de su mejor juicio, intervino. De cerca, era aún más difícil de olvidar. Esos ojos, oscuros, claros, brillantes como una noche después de la lluvia, se engancharon en algo enterrado profundamente dentro de él. Cuando ella levantó la vista, sobresaltada, había un destello de luz estelar que le hizo picar los dedos, con ganas de alargar la mano, de cubrir esos ojos afilados e intrépidos. Bien. Ya había intervenido. Mejor llevarlo hasta el final. Y, honestamente, necesitaba desahogarse. El callejón se llenó de gritos. Hacía un minuto, esos matones solo estaban demasiado heridos para arrastrarse. ¿Ahora? Estaban hechos pedazos: brazos inútiles, piernas rotas, el pánico espeso en el aire. Se arrepentían de todo. El trabajo había sido simple: golpearla un poco, nada grave. Su jefe incluso les había advertido que no dejaran marcas. Pero ella era demasiado hermosa, y unos cuantos se volvieron codiciosos. ¿Quién podría haber imaginado que la belleza delicada pegaba como un demonio, y lo que era peor, que un hombre como él aparecería de la nada? Frío, letal, como la Muerte misma con un abrigo de diseñador. Si el asesinato fuera legal, estaban seguros de que les habría roto el cuello sin pestañear. El cabecilla ya estaba perdiendo la cabeza. Sterling volvió paseando hasta donde la chica yacía observando desde el suelo. Su tono llevaba un rastro de diversión maliciosa. "Eres rápida, pero no lo suficiente despiadada. Si dejas cabos sueltos así, volverán para morderte. Entonces, pequeña callejera, ¿cómo piensas pagarme esta noche?" Claudia, que podría haber manejado la pelea bien por sí sola, y que ahora de alguna manera le debía algo a este extraño, guardó silencio. Tumbada de espaldas, el rostro surcado de sangre y polvo, de alguna manera parecía irreal en la oscuridad. Sterling frunció el ceño. Sucio. Se inclinó para levantar a la silenciosa rosa a sus pies, entonces algo lo empujó con fuerza. Tropezó, perdió el equilibrio y cayó justo encima de ella. Su peso aplastó su brazo herido; su mano izquierda aterrizó sobre algo más suave. Sus dedos se tensaron y apretaron antes de que su cerebro reaccionara. Se quedó helado. Ella también. Sus ojos se encontraron, muy abiertos en mutua conmoción. A unos metros de distancia, el perro pastor culpable se sentó parpadeando, como diciendo: Por favor, no me vean. Inmovilizada bajo un extraño, con todo dolorido, Claudia respiró hondo y tembloroso. Guapo o no, un grupo seguía siendo un grupo. Su expresión calmada se volvió feroz. Sterling oyó las primeras palabras de la rosa para él esa noche. "¿Nadie te dijo nunca?" "¿Decirme qué?" "Que no metas la nariz en los asuntos de otros." Antes de que la última palabra se desvaneciera, le rodeó el cuello con los brazos y lo tiró hacia abajo. Sus frentes chocaron con un crujido. El dolor se disparó. "¡Agente! ¡Por aquí!" Su voz sonó clara. Segundos después, las sirenas partieron la noche. Los policías vinieron corriendo. Sterling, al darse cuenta de que acababa de ser utilizado, dejó escapar una risa baja e incrédula. "¿Así tratas a tu salvador?" Terminó tumbado exactamente donde ella había estado, su voz goteando sarcasmo. Claudia se puso de pie, medio en sombras, y le dedicó una sonrisa delgada. "Obviamente. Soy la villana desagradecida, ¿recuerdas?" … Esa noche, el chico de oro de Liberty City, el heredero de Romero Corporation, fue llevado a la comisaría. Clint apareció rápido con un abogado, echando miradas furtivas a la chica que despertó la rara misericordia del Segador… y luego lo denunció por acoso. ¿Valiente, verdad? Era hermosa, y claramente no le temía a nada. Una vez que los matones fueron registrados, Clint se preparó, esperando a que Sterling dijera la palabra: Encárgate de ella. En cambio, Sterling dijo: "Averigua quién es." "¿Quién?" La palabra se le escapó antes de que Clint pudiera detenerse. Sterling nunca mostraba interés en ninguna mujer. La sola idea daba miedo. La mirada de Sterling se clavó en él, lo suficientemente afilada para hacerlo callar. "Sí, señor", murmuró Clint rápidamente. Mirando a la chica alejarse a zancadas después de lanzar una última mirada ardiente por encima del hombro, Clint sintió una punzada de lástima. Eso era todo. Ella y toda su familia estaban acabadas. … Ajena a la tormenta que acababa de desatar, Claudia se arrastró a casa al amanecer, perseguida por una ráfaga de llamadas. Su padre, Wilson Lancaster, la recibió en la puerta con una bofetada sonora. "¿Cómo he criado a una hija como tú?" No esquivó a tiempo. Su mejilla pálida enrojeció e hinchó. La habitación se quedó helada. Jasper frunció el ceño, con dolor destellando en sus ojos. Se obligó a no intervenir. Claudia había cruzado la línea esta vez; si no aprendía, quién sabía qué caos provocaría después. Aun así… Wilson había golpeado demasiado fuerte. La visión le retorció algo en el pecho. Lottie, Clarence y Zane llevaban la misma expresión enfadada y decepcionada. En el sofá, los ojos de Lydia brillaban con una alegría mal disimulada. Había estado furiosa la noche anterior porque los cretinos que contrató habían metido la pata y terminado en la comisaría. Por suerte, había cubierto sus huellas. Habían afirmado que fue solo un agarre "en un momento de arrebato", y como no pasó nada grave, no había nada que la vinculara a ella. Había sido dada de alta esa mañana y soltó el cebo que tenía preparado desde hacía tiempo. Los Lancaster se lo tragaron entero. Después de desaparecer toda la noche, nadie preguntó dónde había estado Claudia, ni notó sus heridas. La recibieron con una bofetada. Esa era su familia. Claudia no discutió. Caminó directamente hacia la pequeña Lydia, presumida y satisfecha.
Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now.Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now. Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia Capítulo 1 ¡Bum! Las puertas de la sala del evento se abrieron de golpe. "¡Algo le ha pasado a Lydia!", gritó un hombre al entrar tambaleándose, con el pánico pintado en el rostro. Las palabras impactaron como una bomba. La sala —decorada con flores, lazos y música romántica, bullendo de emoción por la propuesta— quedó instantáneamente en silencio. El hombre en el centro de atención, aún de rodillas, con el anillo en la mano, se giró sobresaltado. "¿Qué acabas de decir?" Quade Zimmer, con su pelo teñido de azul tan estridente como su voz, soltó: "¡La señora Lancaster acaba de llamar! ¡Lydia ha tenido un accidente de coche! ¡Está en el hospital ahora mismo!" Apenas habían salido las palabras de su boca cuando estalló el caos: sillas arrastrándose, tacones repiqueteando, gente apresurándose hacia la puerta. No era una exageración decir que Lydia Wallace era la chica de moda de su círculo: hermosa, talentosa, frágil de esa forma desgarradora que hacía que la gente quisiera protegerla. Todos la adoraban, la compadecían, la veneraban. ¿Y ahora que su diosa estaba herida? A nadie le quedaba corazón para seguir celebrando una propuesta de matrimonio cuya respuesta todos ya conocían. Incluso el chico que proponía lo dejó todo y salió corriendo. "Jasper—" La voz que pronunció su nombre llegó por detrás —suave, apenas más que un suspiro. Fue entonces cuando todos finalmente se dieron cuenta: la mujer a la que le estaban pidiendo matrimonio no había dicho ni una palabra en todo este tiempo. Alguien debió de haber dado a los interruptores en el caos, porque la sala se oscureció. La única luz provenía de las suaves lámparas de la pared. En un rincón, mitad en sombras, mitad en luz, estaba Claudia Lancaster. Su belleza no era del tipo dulce y gentil —era marcada, impactante, inolvidable. Pero en ese momento, su calma resultaba inquietante. Su expresión no revelaba nada. "¿No quieres oír mi respuesta?", preguntó en voz baja. Hacía apenas un minuto, Jasper Fenton le había pedido que se casara con él. Ahora, a medio camino de la puerta, se detuvo en seco. Ni siquiera intentó explicarse. "Claudia, lo siento. Tengo que ir al hospital. Vete a casa primero, ¿vale?" "¿Y si no te dejo ir?" Su voz se mantuvo firme. "Jasper, sabes que la odio." Jasper suspiró, exasperado. "Claudia, ahora no. No es momento para empezar una pelea." "Mi respuesta… puede que solo la obtengas una vez", dijo, tan calmada como siempre. Algo en su tono le hizo hacer una pausa. Normalmente, en cuanto salía el nombre de Lydia, Claudia estallaba —espetando, poniendo los ojos en blanco, maldiciendo a Lydia entre dientes. Pero esta noche, estaba fría, distante. Casi como si lo hubiera estado esperando. Un destello de inquietud le recorrió la espalda a Jasper. "Oh, por favor", intervino Quade, poniendo los ojos en blanco. "Has estado obsesionada con Jasper desde, ¿qué, la secundaria? El tipo finalmente te propone matrimonio y ¿se supone que debemos creer que dirías que no?" "Sí, alguien podría estar muriéndose en serio. Te pueden proponer matrimonio cualquier otro día", añadió alguien más. "¡Exacto! Las familias arreglaron esto hace siglos, toda esta cosa es solo por apariencias." Los comentarios dolían, pero Claudia ni siquiera parpadeó. Sus ojos oscuros permanecieron clavados en Jasper. Esperando. Jasper dejó escapar otro suspiro y volvió hacia ella. Como siempre, le despeinó el cabello como si fuera una niña. "Pórtate bien, ¿vale? No montes una escena. Lydia podría estar gravemente herida. Este no es el momento para una rabieta." Siempre era así. Cada vez que Lydia estaba involucrada, Jasper nunca preguntaba quién tenía razón o no. Corría a consolar a Lydia primero, y luego volvía a regañar a Claudia, suave y paciente, como si fuera una niña mimada que simplemente no entendía. Así se sentía amar a alguien desde abajo. No importaba cuánto gritaras, tu ira era solo "graciosa". Nunca seria. ¿Esta propuesta? Nunca había sido una pregunta real. Jasper ya sabía cuál debería haber sido su respuesta. "¡Oh, al diablo con esto, no puedo quedarme callada más tiempo!" Whitney Sawyer golpeó su bolso de mano contra algo, con furia destellando en sus ojos. Había estado aguantándose desde que Quade irrumpió, pero ya era suficiente. "Jasper, ¿eres su novio o su ambulancia personal? ¿Cómo es que cada vez que Lydia sufre 'un accidente', te llama a ti? Siempre perfectamente sincronizado, siempre arruinando tus planes. ¡La última vez fue una cita, ahora es tu propuesta! ¿Qué, no podía esperar a morirse cinco minutos?" Como mejor amiga de Claudia, Whitney había pasado semanas planeando esta propuesta. Y ahora, una vez más, Lydia la había secuestrado, y Jasper había caído directamente en la trampa. La furia de Whitney se extendió como un incendio forestal. "¡Y el resto de ustedes! ¿Para qué corren, a visitarla o a planear su funeral? ¡A este paso, Lydia ya debería haber muerto cien veces!" "¡Whitney!" El rostro de Jasper se ensombreció; el hombre gentil y afable desapareció. Su voz sonó como un latigazo. "Mide tus palabras." "Oh, perdóname." La voz de Whitney subió de tono, aguda y furiosa. "¿No soportas oír criticar a tu preciosa Lydia? Jasper, ¿acaso recuerdas quién es tu novia?" Los ojos de Jasper se helaron. Claudia le agarró el brazo a Whitney, con voz tranquila pero firme. "Si sales por esa puerta, Jasper, terminamos." Ya se había perdido demasiado tiempo. Jasper se pellizcó el puente de la nariz y suspiró. "No digas algo de lo que te arrepentirás. Claudia, hablaremos cuando vuelva." Se dio la vuelta y salió con paso firme, sin mirar atrás. Ni siquiera sabía lo graves que eran las lesiones de Lydia, solo sabía que tenía que ir. Se dijo a sí mismo: Cuando vuelva, lo compensaré. Le haré una propuesta aún mejor. También tomó nota mental de decirle a Claudia que se alejara de Whitney; claramente esa chica le estaba llenando la cabeza de tonterías. La sala se hundió bajo el peso de todo. Incluso aquellos que pensaban que Claudia estaba siendo dramática se mordieron la lengua. Nadie quería contrariar a Jasper, ni a los Sawyer. Uno a uno, se escabulleron. En minutos, el lugar era irreconocible. Pétalos de rosa aplastados y lazos cubrían el suelo. Botellas de vino rodaban bajo las sillas. Glaseado embadurnaba la alfombra. Toda la escena parecía una parodia de lo que había sido, burlándose de lo ridículo que era todo. Mientras los últimos rezagados se quedaban, alguien frunció el ceño. "Esperen… Lydia es la hija adoptiva de los Lancaster, ¿verdad? Oí que es prima de Claudia. ¿Por qué nadie llamó a Claudia también?" "¿Llamarla? ¿Qué, quieren empeorar aún más las lesiones de Lydia?" "Vaya, ¿qué se supone que significa eso?" "Lo de siempre. Que la señorita Lancaster es fría, cruel, desagradecida… ya sabes cómo va." Los susurros comenzaron de nuevo, suaves, venenosos y familiares. Siempre lo hacían cuando el nombre de Lydia salía junto al de Claudia. El rostro de Whitney ardía de ira. Se volvió hacia Claudia, de repente preocupada. Los cotilleos de extraños no importaban, pero ¿la traición de alguien a quien amas? Eso siempre calaba más hondo. Claudia observó la espalda de Jasper mientras se alejaba, cada paso alejándolo más de ella. Era como ver los años escurriéndose entre sus dedos, el chico con el que había crecido desvaneciéndose a lo lejos. Whitney le había preguntado una vez: Si nada hubiera interrumpido esta noche, ¿habrías dicho que sí? Pero, honestamente: No importara cuál fuera su respuesta, el final habría sido el mismo. Lydia nunca la dejaría ganar. Y Jasper nunca la elegiría a ella. En el momento en que le dio la espalda, no se dio cuenta de que, aunque el futuro pueda parecer interminable, la mujer dispuesta a esperarte no dura para siempre. Jasper… esta vez, realmente te dejo ir. En la mesa, entre el desorden, el teléfono de Claudia vibró. Una notificación de WhatsApp apareció, breve y suficiente. "Perdiste." Capítulo 2 Tres días antes, Lydia había acorralado a Claudia. "Sabes que Jasper está a punto de proponerte matrimonio, ¿verdad?" Sus bonitos ojos brillaban, no de emoción, sino de celos y malicia. "Oí que ambas familias querían pasar directamente a la fiesta de compromiso, pero él insistió en hacerlo bien. Dijo que necesitaba oír tu 'sí' él mismo, o no significaría nada. Ayy, qué romántico, ¿no?" "¿Y qué?" Claudia levantó la vista, su tono plano, sin inmutarse. La sonrisa de Lydia se curvó, afilada y venenosa. "¿Y qué? Claudia, ¿qué hace que una pecadora como tú crea que merece felicidad?" Se inclinó más cerca, con voz azucarada pero goteando veneno. "¿Quieres apostar? En tres días, esa propuesta ni siquiera ocurrirá." Claudia solo la miró fijamente. Para todos los demás, Lydia era pura perfección: de voz suave, gentil, toda gracia y luz. Nadie creería que a puerta cerrada podía escupir veneno así. Podría haber detenido la propuesta en cualquier momento que quisiera. Pero no. A Lydia le gustaba el drama. Quería esperar hasta el acto final, para empujar a Claudia fuera del escenario ella misma. Como siempre hacía. … Después de que la propuesta se fuera al traste, el teléfono de Whitney sonó. Una mirada a la identificación de la llamada, y su rostro se demudó. Maldijo entre dientes y salió corriendo. Había planeado dejar a Claudia primero —Claudia había llegado en el coche de Jasper—, pero cuando Claudia se dio cuenta de que algo pasaba con la madre de Whitney, la instó a irse. Cuando todos los demás se habían ido, Claudia se quedó entre los escombros de flores aplastadas y copas de champán, con la cabeza agachada, su expresión ilegible. Dejó escapar una risita amarga. Era tarde. Las calles afuera estaban tranquilas y vacías. Claudia salió del club sin ganas de ir a casa. Vagó junto al río, el frío de la noche calándole la piel. Entonces, se detuvo en seco. Los vellos de su nuca se erizaron: alguien la seguía. Levantó su teléfono, fingiendo tomar una selfie, inclinándolo lo justo para ver el reflejo detrás de ella. Un grupo de hombres, sombras acercándose. Su pulso se disparó. Empezó a caminar más rápido. Ellos también. Su pulgar se cernió sobre su contacto de emergencia —el número que Jasper la había obligado a configurar hacía un año. En aquel entonces, le había roto el brazo a un acosador por molestar a una chica y había terminado en la comisaría. Jasper la sacó bajo fianza, regañándola durante todo el trayecto a casa por ser imprudente. Se había puesto a sí mismo como su contacto de emergencia, haciéndole prometer que si alguna vez estaba en peligro, lo llamaría a él, sin heroísmos, sin orgullo. Había jurado que sin importar dónde o cuándo, iría por ella. Nunca imaginó que la primera vez que llamaría sería así. "¿Claudia?" La voz de Jasper llegó, baja y cansada. Estaba en el hospital. El accidente de Lydia no había sido grave, pero ella era frágil —nacida prematura, se alteraba fácilmente. Solo él podía calmarla. Todo el clan Lancaster estaba acampado fuera. Lydia acababa de quedarse dormida cuando llegó la llamada, despertándola de un salto. "Jasper, alguien me está siguiendo." Silencio. Luego, su voz, fría, desdeñosa. "Claudia, realmente no puedo irme esta noche. No montes una escena." Pensó que estaba mintiendo, intentando alejarlo otra vez del lado de la cama de Lydia. Justo entonces, la madre de Lydia, Lottie Wallace, entró con un vaso de agua. Su rostro suave y elegante se endureció al ver el teléfono en la mano de Jasper. "¡Claudia!", espetó. "Lydia acaba de tener un accidente, y ni siquiera te molestas en visitar. ¿Ahora estás quién sabe dónde, inventando historias? ¿Cuándo vas a crecer? Escucha: nadie se va esta noche. Deja ya tus juegos mezquinos." Colgó sin dudar. En la cama, Lydia yacía pálida y temblorosa. Su voz era pequeña, vacilante. "Mamá, no te enfades. ¿Y si Claudia realmente está en problemas?" Lottie suspiró, la decepción grabada a fuego. "¿Qué problemas podría tener? Esta no es la primera vez que intenta algo cuando tú estás enferma." En la secundaria, Claudia una vez había llamado a casa en medio de la noche, diciendo que la habían secuestrado y exigiendo dinero de rescate. Esa misma noche, Lydia había caído enferma. La familia ya estaba en pánico, y la supuesta llamada de rescate casi le da un infarto a Lottie. Habían corrido a la ubicación, solo para encontrar a Claudia saliendo ilesa, sin un rasguño. Para cuando volvieron a casa, Lydia se había desplomado en el suelo, sola. Era demasiado tarde cuando finalmente la llevaron al hospital. El doctor dijo que con otro retraso, no habría sobrevivido. Esa noche, el padre de Claudia la había golpeado hasta dejarla sangrando. Pasó un mes en el hospital, y nunca se disculpó. La voz de Lottie se suavizó, cargada de decepción. "¿Cuándo se volvió así mi dulce niña?" Jasper conocía cada palabra de esa historia. Incluso había sido él quien llevaba snacks a escondidas a la cama de Claudia en el hospital después, contando chistes estúpidos para hacerla reír. Pero esta noche era diferente. Se dijo a sí mismo que solo estaba haciendo una rabieta por la propuesta arruinada. No tenía energía para sus pataletas. Mañana, cuando se calmara, hablaría con ella, la haría sonreír de nuevo. Colgó, apartó el cabello de la frente de Lydia y susurró: "Se te ha ido la fiebre. Pórtate bien. Duerme." Los ojos de Lydia brillaron con culpa y suavidad. "Jasper, lo siento por esta noche. Es toda mi culpa. Si no fuera tan débil—" "No. Nunca eres una carga." "Jasper…" "Duerme." Sus pestañas aletearon y se cerraron, y una pequeña sonrisa curvó sus labios. Dormiría tranquila esa noche. … Detrás de Claudia, los hombres se acercaban, lentos, perezosos, como gatos jugando con un ratón. Ella siguió corriendo, la voz de Jasper y el regaño de Lottie resonando en su mente. Tal vez había estado decepcionada demasiadas veces, porque ni siquiera se sentía triste ya, solo vacía. Hueca. La noche de abril era cálida, pero cortaba como cristal. La empujaron a un rincón oscuro. Claudia se detuvo bajo un árbol, su expresión calmada, los ojos bajándose al suelo. Entonces, se movió. Quince minutos después, los hombres yacían esparcidos por el pavimento —brazos retorcidos, piernas rotas, gimiendo de dolor. Claudia, sin aliento y sangrando, se dejó caer en el bordillo. Agarró su teléfono con una mano resbaladiza de sangre y marcó al 911. Después de ese lío en octavo grado, había empezado kickboxing y defensa personal. Había aprendido pronto: nadie vendría a salvarla. Uno de los hombres, con el brazo doblado en la dirección incorrecta, empezó a arrastrarse hacia ella. Los ojos de Claudia se posaron sobre él, fríos y afilados. Antes de que pudiera moverse, una bota cayó con fuerza, enviando al tipo volando. Una sombra se cernió sobre ella: un hombre alto con una sonrisa perezosa y el tipo de rostro que podría salirse con la suya cometiendo un asesinato. La miró desde arriba, haciendo un clic suave con la lengua. "Tss. ¿De dónde ha salido esta criaturita?" Capítulo 3 Sterling Romero salió de la Mansión Romero esa noche, lo suficientemente enfadado como para dejar su coche a medio camino a casa y sacar al perro a pasear. Lo que no esperaba era toparse con esa escena. Allí estaba ella, un capullo de rosa hermoso y malherido, acorralado por una jauría de callejeros desaliñados. Parecía frágil, pero la forma en que levantaba la barbilla, los ojos ardiendo de desafío, lo atrajo directamente de vuelta al cachorro de lobo huérfano con el que había vivido en las montañas casi un mes cuando tenía diez años. Todo fanfarronería y dientes al descubierto, guardando su pequeño trozo de tierra. Débil, pero ardiendo de vida. Ese lobo había muerto por sus manos al final. ¿Y esta chica? Era el mismo tipo de criatura: pequeña, espinosa y lista para hacer sangrar a quien intentara hacerle daño. Su rostro ni siquiera se inmutó mientras rompía los brazos de esos matones como si fueran ramitas. Nada la conmovía. Sterling, que rara vez se preocupaba por nada, sintió un destello de interés que no podía sacudirse. En contra de su mejor juicio, intervino. De cerca, era aún más difícil de olvidar. Esos ojos, oscuros, claros, brillantes como una noche después de la lluvia, se engancharon en algo enterrado profundamente dentro de él. Cuando ella levantó la vista, sobresaltada, había un destello de luz estelar que le hizo picar los dedos, con ganas de alargar la mano, de cubrir esos ojos afilados e intrépidos. Bien. Ya había intervenido. Mejor llevarlo hasta el final. Y, honestamente, necesitaba desahogarse. El callejón se llenó de gritos. Hacía un minuto, esos matones solo estaban demasiado heridos para arrastrarse. ¿Ahora? Estaban hechos pedazos: brazos inútiles, piernas rotas, el pánico espeso en el aire. Se arrepentían de todo. El trabajo había sido simple: golpearla un poco, nada grave. Su jefe incluso les había advertido que no dejaran marcas. Pero ella era demasiado hermosa, y unos cuantos se volvieron codiciosos. ¿Quién podría haber imaginado que la belleza delicada pegaba como un demonio, y lo que era peor, que un hombre como él aparecería de la nada? Frío, letal, como la Muerte misma con un abrigo de diseñador. Si el asesinato fuera legal, estaban seguros de que les habría roto el cuello sin pestañear. El cabecilla ya estaba perdiendo la cabeza. Sterling volvió paseando hasta donde la chica yacía observando desde el suelo. Su tono llevaba un rastro de diversión maliciosa. "Eres rápida, pero no lo suficiente despiadada. Si dejas cabos sueltos así, volverán para morderte. Entonces, pequeña callejera, ¿cómo piensas pagarme esta noche?" Claudia, que podría haber manejado la pelea bien por sí sola, y que ahora de alguna manera le debía algo a este extraño, guardó silencio. Tumbada de espaldas, el rostro surcado de sangre y polvo, de alguna manera parecía irreal en la oscuridad. Sterling frunció el ceño. Sucio. Se inclinó para levantar a la silenciosa rosa a sus pies, entonces algo lo empujó con fuerza. Tropezó, perdió el equilibrio y cayó justo encima de ella. Su peso aplastó su brazo herido; su mano izquierda aterrizó sobre algo más suave. Sus dedos se tensaron y apretaron antes de que su cerebro reaccionara. Se quedó helado. Ella también. Sus ojos se encontraron, muy abiertos en mutua conmoción. A unos metros de distancia, el perro pastor culpable se sentó parpadeando, como diciendo: Por favor, no me vean. Inmovilizada bajo un extraño, con todo dolorido, Claudia respiró hondo y tembloroso. Guapo o no, un grupo seguía siendo un grupo. Su expresión calmada se volvió feroz. Sterling oyó las primeras palabras de la rosa para él esa noche. "¿Nadie te dijo nunca?" "¿Decirme qué?" "Que no metas la nariz en los asuntos de otros." Antes de que la última palabra se desvaneciera, le rodeó el cuello con los brazos y lo tiró hacia abajo. Sus frentes chocaron con un crujido. El dolor se disparó. "¡Agente! ¡Por aquí!" Su voz sonó clara. Segundos después, las sirenas partieron la noche. Los policías vinieron corriendo. Sterling, al darse cuenta de que acababa de ser utilizado, dejó escapar una risa baja e incrédula. "¿Así tratas a tu salvador?" Terminó tumbado exactamente donde ella había estado, su voz goteando sarcasmo. Claudia se puso de pie, medio en sombras, y le dedicó una sonrisa delgada. "Obviamente. Soy la villana desagradecida, ¿recuerdas?" … Esa noche, el chico de oro de Liberty City, el heredero de Romero Corporation, fue llevado a la comisaría. Clint apareció rápido con un abogado, echando miradas furtivas a la chica que despertó la rara misericordia del Segador… y luego lo denunció por acoso. ¿Valiente, verdad? Era hermosa, y claramente no le temía a nada. Una vez que los matones fueron registrados, Clint se preparó, esperando a que Sterling dijera la palabra: Encárgate de ella. En cambio, Sterling dijo: "Averigua quién es." "¿Quién?" La palabra se le escapó antes de que Clint pudiera detenerse. Sterling nunca mostraba interés en ninguna mujer. La sola idea daba miedo. La mirada de Sterling se clavó en él, lo suficientemente afilada para hacerlo callar. "Sí, señor", murmuró Clint rápidamente. Mirando a la chica alejarse a zancadas después de lanzar una última mirada ardiente por encima del hombro, Clint sintió una punzada de lástima. Eso era todo. Ella y toda su familia estaban acabadas. … Ajena a la tormenta que acababa de desatar, Claudia se arrastró a casa al amanecer, perseguida por una ráfaga de llamadas. Su padre, Wilson Lancaster, la recibió en la puerta con una bofetada sonora. "¿Cómo he criado a una hija como tú?" No esquivó a tiempo. Su mejilla pálida enrojeció e hinchó. La habitación se quedó helada. Jasper frunció el ceño, con dolor destellando en sus ojos. Se obligó a no intervenir. Claudia había cruzado la línea esta vez; si no aprendía, quién sabía qué caos provocaría después. Aun así… Wilson había golpeado demasiado fuerte. La visión le retorció algo en el pecho. Lottie, Clarence y Zane llevaban la misma expresión enfadada y decepcionada. En el sofá, los ojos de Lydia brillaban con una alegría mal disimulada. Había estado furiosa la noche anterior porque los cretinos que contrató habían metido la pata y terminado en la comisaría. Por suerte, había cubierto sus huellas. Habían afirmado que fue solo un agarre "en un momento de arrebato", y como no pasó nada grave, no había nada que la vinculara a ella. Había sido dada de alta esa mañana y soltó el cebo que tenía preparado desde hacía tiempo. Los Lancaster se lo tragaron entero. Después de desaparecer toda la noche, nadie preguntó dónde había estado Claudia, ni notó sus heridas. La recibieron con una bofetada. Esa era su familia. Claudia no discutió. Caminó directamente hacia la pequeña Lydia, presumida y satisfecha.
Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now.Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now. Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia Capítulo 1 ¡Bum! Las puertas de la sala del evento se abrieron de golpe. "¡Algo le ha pasado a Lydia!", gritó un hombre al entrar tambaleándose, con el pánico pintado en el rostro. Las palabras impactaron como una bomba. La sala —decorada con flores, lazos y música romántica, bullendo de emoción por la propuesta— quedó instantáneamente en silencio. El hombre en el centro de atención, aún de rodillas, con el anillo en la mano, se giró sobresaltado. "¿Qué acabas de decir?" Quade Zimmer, con su pelo teñido de azul tan estridente como su voz, soltó: "¡La señora Lancaster acaba de llamar! ¡Lydia ha tenido un accidente de coche! ¡Está en el hospital ahora mismo!" Apenas habían salido las palabras de su boca cuando estalló el caos: sillas arrastrándose, tacones repiqueteando, gente apresurándose hacia la puerta. No era una exageración decir que Lydia Wallace era la chica de moda de su círculo: hermosa, talentosa, frágil de esa forma desgarradora que hacía que la gente quisiera protegerla. Todos la adoraban, la compadecían, la veneraban. ¿Y ahora que su diosa estaba herida? A nadie le quedaba corazón para seguir celebrando una propuesta de matrimonio cuya respuesta todos ya conocían. Incluso el chico que proponía lo dejó todo y salió corriendo. "Jasper—" La voz que pronunció su nombre llegó por detrás —suave, apenas más que un suspiro. Fue entonces cuando todos finalmente se dieron cuenta: la mujer a la que le estaban pidiendo matrimonio no había dicho ni una palabra en todo este tiempo. Alguien debió de haber dado a los interruptores en el caos, porque la sala se oscureció. La única luz provenía de las suaves lámparas de la pared. En un rincón, mitad en sombras, mitad en luz, estaba Claudia Lancaster. Su belleza no era del tipo dulce y gentil —era marcada, impactante, inolvidable. Pero en ese momento, su calma resultaba inquietante. Su expresión no revelaba nada. "¿No quieres oír mi respuesta?", preguntó en voz baja. Hacía apenas un minuto, Jasper Fenton le había pedido que se casara con él. Ahora, a medio camino de la puerta, se detuvo en seco. Ni siquiera intentó explicarse. "Claudia, lo siento. Tengo que ir al hospital. Vete a casa primero, ¿vale?" "¿Y si no te dejo ir?" Su voz se mantuvo firme. "Jasper, sabes que la odio." Jasper suspiró, exasperado. "Claudia, ahora no. No es momento para empezar una pelea." "Mi respuesta… puede que solo la obtengas una vez", dijo, tan calmada como siempre. Algo en su tono le hizo hacer una pausa. Normalmente, en cuanto salía el nombre de Lydia, Claudia estallaba —espetando, poniendo los ojos en blanco, maldiciendo a Lydia entre dientes. Pero esta noche, estaba fría, distante. Casi como si lo hubiera estado esperando. Un destello de inquietud le recorrió la espalda a Jasper. "Oh, por favor", intervino Quade, poniendo los ojos en blanco. "Has estado obsesionada con Jasper desde, ¿qué, la secundaria? El tipo finalmente te propone matrimonio y ¿se supone que debemos creer que dirías que no?" "Sí, alguien podría estar muriéndose en serio. Te pueden proponer matrimonio cualquier otro día", añadió alguien más. "¡Exacto! Las familias arreglaron esto hace siglos, toda esta cosa es solo por apariencias." Los comentarios dolían, pero Claudia ni siquiera parpadeó. Sus ojos oscuros permanecieron clavados en Jasper. Esperando. Jasper dejó escapar otro suspiro y volvió hacia ella. Como siempre, le despeinó el cabello como si fuera una niña. "Pórtate bien, ¿vale? No montes una escena. Lydia podría estar gravemente herida. Este no es el momento para una rabieta." Siempre era así. Cada vez que Lydia estaba involucrada, Jasper nunca preguntaba quién tenía razón o no. Corría a consolar a Lydia primero, y luego volvía a regañar a Claudia, suave y paciente, como si fuera una niña mimada que simplemente no entendía. Así se sentía amar a alguien desde abajo. No importaba cuánto gritaras, tu ira era solo "graciosa". Nunca seria. ¿Esta propuesta? Nunca había sido una pregunta real. Jasper ya sabía cuál debería haber sido su respuesta. "¡Oh, al diablo con esto, no puedo quedarme callada más tiempo!" Whitney Sawyer golpeó su bolso de mano contra algo, con furia destellando en sus ojos. Había estado aguantándose desde que Quade irrumpió, pero ya era suficiente. "Jasper, ¿eres su novio o su ambulancia personal? ¿Cómo es que cada vez que Lydia sufre 'un accidente', te llama a ti? Siempre perfectamente sincronizado, siempre arruinando tus planes. ¡La última vez fue una cita, ahora es tu propuesta! ¿Qué, no podía esperar a morirse cinco minutos?" Como mejor amiga de Claudia, Whitney había pasado semanas planeando esta propuesta. Y ahora, una vez más, Lydia la había secuestrado, y Jasper había caído directamente en la trampa. La furia de Whitney se extendió como un incendio forestal. "¡Y el resto de ustedes! ¿Para qué corren, a visitarla o a planear su funeral? ¡A este paso, Lydia ya debería haber muerto cien veces!" "¡Whitney!" El rostro de Jasper se ensombreció; el hombre gentil y afable desapareció. Su voz sonó como un latigazo. "Mide tus palabras." "Oh, perdóname." La voz de Whitney subió de tono, aguda y furiosa. "¿No soportas oír criticar a tu preciosa Lydia? Jasper, ¿acaso recuerdas quién es tu novia?" Los ojos de Jasper se helaron. Claudia le agarró el brazo a Whitney, con voz tranquila pero firme. "Si sales por esa puerta, Jasper, terminamos." Ya se había perdido demasiado tiempo. Jasper se pellizcó el puente de la nariz y suspiró. "No digas algo de lo que te arrepentirás. Claudia, hablaremos cuando vuelva." Se dio la vuelta y salió con paso firme, sin mirar atrás. Ni siquiera sabía lo graves que eran las lesiones de Lydia, solo sabía que tenía que ir. Se dijo a sí mismo: Cuando vuelva, lo compensaré. Le haré una propuesta aún mejor. También tomó nota mental de decirle a Claudia que se alejara de Whitney; claramente esa chica le estaba llenando la cabeza de tonterías. La sala se hundió bajo el peso de todo. Incluso aquellos que pensaban que Claudia estaba siendo dramática se mordieron la lengua. Nadie quería contrariar a Jasper, ni a los Sawyer. Uno a uno, se escabulleron. En minutos, el lugar era irreconocible. Pétalos de rosa aplastados y lazos cubrían el suelo. Botellas de vino rodaban bajo las sillas. Glaseado embadurnaba la alfombra. Toda la escena parecía una parodia de lo que había sido, burlándose de lo ridículo que era todo. Mientras los últimos rezagados se quedaban, alguien frunció el ceño. "Esperen… Lydia es la hija adoptiva de los Lancaster, ¿verdad? Oí que es prima de Claudia. ¿Por qué nadie llamó a Claudia también?" "¿Llamarla? ¿Qué, quieren empeorar aún más las lesiones de Lydia?" "Vaya, ¿qué se supone que significa eso?" "Lo de siempre. Que la señorita Lancaster es fría, cruel, desagradecida… ya sabes cómo va." Los susurros comenzaron de nuevo, suaves, venenosos y familiares. Siempre lo hacían cuando el nombre de Lydia salía junto al de Claudia. El rostro de Whitney ardía de ira. Se volvió hacia Claudia, de repente preocupada. Los cotilleos de extraños no importaban, pero ¿la traición de alguien a quien amas? Eso siempre calaba más hondo. Claudia observó la espalda de Jasper mientras se alejaba, cada paso alejándolo más de ella. Era como ver los años escurriéndose entre sus dedos, el chico con el que había crecido desvaneciéndose a lo lejos. Whitney le había preguntado una vez: Si nada hubiera interrumpido esta noche, ¿habrías dicho que sí? Pero, honestamente: No importara cuál fuera su respuesta, el final habría sido el mismo. Lydia nunca la dejaría ganar. Y Jasper nunca la elegiría a ella. En el momento en que le dio la espalda, no se dio cuenta de que, aunque el futuro pueda parecer interminable, la mujer dispuesta a esperarte no dura para siempre. Jasper… esta vez, realmente te dejo ir. En la mesa, entre el desorden, el teléfono de Claudia vibró. Una notificación de WhatsApp apareció, breve y suficiente. "Perdiste." Capítulo 2 Tres días antes, Lydia había acorralado a Claudia. "Sabes que Jasper está a punto de proponerte matrimonio, ¿verdad?" Sus bonitos ojos brillaban, no de emoción, sino de celos y malicia. "Oí que ambas familias querían pasar directamente a la fiesta de compromiso, pero él insistió en hacerlo bien. Dijo que necesitaba oír tu 'sí' él mismo, o no significaría nada. Ayy, qué romántico, ¿no?" "¿Y qué?" Claudia levantó la vista, su tono plano, sin inmutarse. La sonrisa de Lydia se curvó, afilada y venenosa. "¿Y qué? Claudia, ¿qué hace que una pecadora como tú crea que merece felicidad?" Se inclinó más cerca, con voz azucarada pero goteando veneno. "¿Quieres apostar? En tres días, esa propuesta ni siquiera ocurrirá." Claudia solo la miró fijamente. Para todos los demás, Lydia era pura perfección: de voz suave, gentil, toda gracia y luz. Nadie creería que a puerta cerrada podía escupir veneno así. Podría haber detenido la propuesta en cualquier momento que quisiera. Pero no. A Lydia le gustaba el drama. Quería esperar hasta el acto final, para empujar a Claudia fuera del escenario ella misma. Como siempre hacía. … Después de que la propuesta se fuera al traste, el teléfono de Whitney sonó. Una mirada a la identificación de la llamada, y su rostro se demudó. Maldijo entre dientes y salió corriendo. Había planeado dejar a Claudia primero —Claudia había llegado en el coche de Jasper—, pero cuando Claudia se dio cuenta de que algo pasaba con la madre de Whitney, la instó a irse. Cuando todos los demás se habían ido, Claudia se quedó entre los escombros de flores aplastadas y copas de champán, con la cabeza agachada, su expresión ilegible. Dejó escapar una risita amarga. Era tarde. Las calles afuera estaban tranquilas y vacías. Claudia salió del club sin ganas de ir a casa. Vagó junto al río, el frío de la noche calándole la piel. Entonces, se detuvo en seco. Los vellos de su nuca se erizaron: alguien la seguía. Levantó su teléfono, fingiendo tomar una selfie, inclinándolo lo justo para ver el reflejo detrás de ella. Un grupo de hombres, sombras acercándose. Su pulso se disparó. Empezó a caminar más rápido. Ellos también. Su pulgar se cernió sobre su contacto de emergencia —el número que Jasper la había obligado a configurar hacía un año. En aquel entonces, le había roto el brazo a un acosador por molestar a una chica y había terminado en la comisaría. Jasper la sacó bajo fianza, regañándola durante todo el trayecto a casa por ser imprudente. Se había puesto a sí mismo como su contacto de emergencia, haciéndole prometer que si alguna vez estaba en peligro, lo llamaría a él, sin heroísmos, sin orgullo. Había jurado que sin importar dónde o cuándo, iría por ella. Nunca imaginó que la primera vez que llamaría sería así. "¿Claudia?" La voz de Jasper llegó, baja y cansada. Estaba en el hospital. El accidente de Lydia no había sido grave, pero ella era frágil —nacida prematura, se alteraba fácilmente. Solo él podía calmarla. Todo el clan Lancaster estaba acampado fuera. Lydia acababa de quedarse dormida cuando llegó la llamada, despertándola de un salto. "Jasper, alguien me está siguiendo." Silencio. Luego, su voz, fría, desdeñosa. "Claudia, realmente no puedo irme esta noche. No montes una escena." Pensó que estaba mintiendo, intentando alejarlo otra vez del lado de la cama de Lydia. Justo entonces, la madre de Lydia, Lottie Wallace, entró con un vaso de agua. Su rostro suave y elegante se endureció al ver el teléfono en la mano de Jasper. "¡Claudia!", espetó. "Lydia acaba de tener un accidente, y ni siquiera te molestas en visitar. ¿Ahora estás quién sabe dónde, inventando historias? ¿Cuándo vas a crecer? Escucha: nadie se va esta noche. Deja ya tus juegos mezquinos." Colgó sin dudar. En la cama, Lydia yacía pálida y temblorosa. Su voz era pequeña, vacilante. "Mamá, no te enfades. ¿Y si Claudia realmente está en problemas?" Lottie suspiró, la decepción grabada a fuego. "¿Qué problemas podría tener? Esta no es la primera vez que intenta algo cuando tú estás enferma." En la secundaria, Claudia una vez había llamado a casa en medio de la noche, diciendo que la habían secuestrado y exigiendo dinero de rescate. Esa misma noche, Lydia había caído enferma. La familia ya estaba en pánico, y la supuesta llamada de rescate casi le da un infarto a Lottie. Habían corrido a la ubicación, solo para encontrar a Claudia saliendo ilesa, sin un rasguño. Para cuando volvieron a casa, Lydia se había desplomado en el suelo, sola. Era demasiado tarde cuando finalmente la llevaron al hospital. El doctor dijo que con otro retraso, no habría sobrevivido. Esa noche, el padre de Claudia la había golpeado hasta dejarla sangrando. Pasó un mes en el hospital, y nunca se disculpó. La voz de Lottie se suavizó, cargada de decepción. "¿Cuándo se volvió así mi dulce niña?" Jasper conocía cada palabra de esa historia. Incluso había sido él quien llevaba snacks a escondidas a la cama de Claudia en el hospital después, contando chistes estúpidos para hacerla reír. Pero esta noche era diferente. Se dijo a sí mismo que solo estaba haciendo una rabieta por la propuesta arruinada. No tenía energía para sus pataletas. Mañana, cuando se calmara, hablaría con ella, la haría sonreír de nuevo. Colgó, apartó el cabello de la frente de Lydia y susurró: "Se te ha ido la fiebre. Pórtate bien. Duerme." Los ojos de Lydia brillaron con culpa y suavidad. "Jasper, lo siento por esta noche. Es toda mi culpa. Si no fuera tan débil—" "No. Nunca eres una carga." "Jasper…" "Duerme." Sus pestañas aletearon y se cerraron, y una pequeña sonrisa curvó sus labios. Dormiría tranquila esa noche. … Detrás de Claudia, los hombres se acercaban, lentos, perezosos, como gatos jugando con un ratón. Ella siguió corriendo, la voz de Jasper y el regaño de Lottie resonando en su mente. Tal vez había estado decepcionada demasiadas veces, porque ni siquiera se sentía triste ya, solo vacía. Hueca. La noche de abril era cálida, pero cortaba como cristal. La empujaron a un rincón oscuro. Claudia se detuvo bajo un árbol, su expresión calmada, los ojos bajándose al suelo. Entonces, se movió. Quince minutos después, los hombres yacían esparcidos por el pavimento —brazos retorcidos, piernas rotas, gimiendo de dolor. Claudia, sin aliento y sangrando, se dejó caer en el bordillo. Agarró su teléfono con una mano resbaladiza de sangre y marcó al 911. Después de ese lío en octavo grado, había empezado kickboxing y defensa personal. Había aprendido pronto: nadie vendría a salvarla. Uno de los hombres, con el brazo doblado en la dirección incorrecta, empezó a arrastrarse hacia ella. Los ojos de Claudia se posaron sobre él, fríos y afilados. Antes de que pudiera moverse, una bota cayó con fuerza, enviando al tipo volando. Una sombra se cernió sobre ella: un hombre alto con una sonrisa perezosa y el tipo de rostro que podría salirse con la suya cometiendo un asesinato. La miró desde arriba, haciendo un clic suave con la lengua. "Tss. ¿De dónde ha salido esta criaturita?" Capítulo 3 Sterling Romero salió de la Mansión Romero esa noche, lo suficientemente enfadado como para dejar su coche a medio camino a casa y sacar al perro a pasear. Lo que no esperaba era toparse con esa escena. Allí estaba ella, un capullo de rosa hermoso y malherido, acorralado por una jauría de callejeros desaliñados. Parecía frágil, pero la forma en que levantaba la barbilla, los ojos ardiendo de desafío, lo atrajo directamente de vuelta al cachorro de lobo huérfano con el que había vivido en las montañas casi un mes cuando tenía diez años. Todo fanfarronería y dientes al descubierto, guardando su pequeño trozo de tierra. Débil, pero ardiendo de vida. Ese lobo había muerto por sus manos al final. ¿Y esta chica? Era el mismo tipo de criatura: pequeña, espinosa y lista para hacer sangrar a quien intentara hacerle daño. Su rostro ni siquiera se inmutó mientras rompía los brazos de esos matones como si fueran ramitas. Nada la conmovía. Sterling, que rara vez se preocupaba por nada, sintió un destello de interés que no podía sacudirse. En contra de su mejor juicio, intervino. De cerca, era aún más difícil de olvidar. Esos ojos, oscuros, claros, brillantes como una noche después de la lluvia, se engancharon en algo enterrado profundamente dentro de él. Cuando ella levantó la vista, sobresaltada, había un destello de luz estelar que le hizo picar los dedos, con ganas de alargar la mano, de cubrir esos ojos afilados e intrépidos. Bien. Ya había intervenido. Mejor llevarlo hasta el final. Y, honestamente, necesitaba desahogarse. El callejón se llenó de gritos. Hacía un minuto, esos matones solo estaban demasiado heridos para arrastrarse. ¿Ahora? Estaban hechos pedazos: brazos inútiles, piernas rotas, el pánico espeso en el aire. Se arrepentían de todo. El trabajo había sido simple: golpearla un poco, nada grave. Su jefe incluso les había advertido que no dejaran marcas. Pero ella era demasiado hermosa, y unos cuantos se volvieron codiciosos. ¿Quién podría haber imaginado que la belleza delicada pegaba como un demonio, y lo que era peor, que un hombre como él aparecería de la nada? Frío, letal, como la Muerte misma con un abrigo de diseñador. Si el asesinato fuera legal, estaban seguros de que les habría roto el cuello sin pestañear. El cabecilla ya estaba perdiendo la cabeza. Sterling volvió paseando hasta donde la chica yacía observando desde el suelo. Su tono llevaba un rastro de diversión maliciosa. "Eres rápida, pero no lo suficiente despiadada. Si dejas cabos sueltos así, volverán para morderte. Entonces, pequeña callejera, ¿cómo piensas pagarme esta noche?" Claudia, que podría haber manejado la pelea bien por sí sola, y que ahora de alguna manera le debía algo a este extraño, guardó silencio. Tumbada de espaldas, el rostro surcado de sangre y polvo, de alguna manera parecía irreal en la oscuridad. Sterling frunció el ceño. Sucio. Se inclinó para levantar a la silenciosa rosa a sus pies, entonces algo lo empujó con fuerza. Tropezó, perdió el equilibrio y cayó justo encima de ella. Su peso aplastó su brazo herido; su mano izquierda aterrizó sobre algo más suave. Sus dedos se tensaron y apretaron antes de que su cerebro reaccionara. Se quedó helado. Ella también. Sus ojos se encontraron, muy abiertos en mutua conmoción. A unos metros de distancia, el perro pastor culpable se sentó parpadeando, como diciendo: Por favor, no me vean. Inmovilizada bajo un extraño, con todo dolorido, Claudia respiró hondo y tembloroso. Guapo o no, un grupo seguía siendo un grupo. Su expresión calmada se volvió feroz. Sterling oyó las primeras palabras de la rosa para él esa noche. "¿Nadie te dijo nunca?" "¿Decirme qué?" "Que no metas la nariz en los asuntos de otros." Antes de que la última palabra se desvaneciera, le rodeó el cuello con los brazos y lo tiró hacia abajo. Sus frentes chocaron con un crujido. El dolor se disparó. "¡Agente! ¡Por aquí!" Su voz sonó clara. Segundos después, las sirenas partieron la noche. Los policías vinieron corriendo. Sterling, al darse cuenta de que acababa de ser utilizado, dejó escapar una risa baja e incrédula. "¿Así tratas a tu salvador?" Terminó tumbado exactamente donde ella había estado, su voz goteando sarcasmo. Claudia se puso de pie, medio en sombras, y le dedicó una sonrisa delgada. "Obviamente. Soy la villana desagradecida, ¿recuerdas?" … Esa noche, el chico de oro de Liberty City, el heredero de Romero Corporation, fue llevado a la comisaría. Clint apareció rápido con un abogado, echando miradas furtivas a la chica que despertó la rara misericordia del Segador… y luego lo denunció por acoso. ¿Valiente, verdad? Era hermosa, y claramente no le temía a nada. Una vez que los matones fueron registrados, Clint se preparó, esperando a que Sterling dijera la palabra: Encárgate de ella. En cambio, Sterling dijo: "Averigua quién es." "¿Quién?" La palabra se le escapó antes de que Clint pudiera detenerse. Sterling nunca mostraba interés en ninguna mujer. La sola idea daba miedo. La mirada de Sterling se clavó en él, lo suficientemente afilada para hacerlo callar. "Sí, señor", murmuró Clint rápidamente. Mirando a la chica alejarse a zancadas después de lanzar una última mirada ardiente por encima del hombro, Clint sintió una punzada de lástima. Eso era todo. Ella y toda su familia estaban acabadas. … Ajena a la tormenta que acababa de desatar, Claudia se arrastró a casa al amanecer, perseguida por una ráfaga de llamadas. Su padre, Wilson Lancaster, la recibió en la puerta con una bofetada sonora. "¿Cómo he criado a una hija como tú?" No esquivó a tiempo. Su mejilla pálida enrojeció e hinchó. La habitación se quedó helada. Jasper frunció el ceño, con dolor destellando en sus ojos. Se obligó a no intervenir. Claudia había cruzado la línea esta vez; si no aprendía, quién sabía qué caos provocaría después. Aun así… Wilson había golpeado demasiado fuerte. La visión le retorció algo en el pecho. Lottie, Clarence y Zane llevaban la misma expresión enfadada y decepcionada. En el sofá, los ojos de Lydia brillaban con una alegría mal disimulada. Había estado furiosa la noche anterior porque los cretinos que contrató habían metido la pata y terminado en la comisaría. Por suerte, había cubierto sus huellas. Habían afirmado que fue solo un agarre "en un momento de arrebato", y como no pasó nada grave, no había nada que la vinculara a ella. Había sido dada de alta esa mañana y soltó el cebo que tenía preparado desde hacía tiempo. Los Lancaster se lo tragaron entero. Después de desaparecer toda la noche, nadie preguntó dónde había estado Claudia, ni notó sus heridas. La recibieron con una bofetada. Esa era su familia. Claudia no discutió. Caminó directamente hacia la pequeña Lydia, presumida y satisfecha.
Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now.Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now. Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia Capítulo 1 ¡Bum! Las puertas de la sala del evento se abrieron de golpe. "¡Algo le ha pasado a Lydia!", gritó un hombre al entrar tambaleándose, con el pánico pintado en el rostro. Las palabras impactaron como una bomba. La sala —decorada con flores, lazos y música romántica, bullendo de emoción por la propuesta— quedó instantáneamente en silencio. El hombre en el centro de atención, aún de rodillas, con el anillo en la mano, se giró sobresaltado. "¿Qué acabas de decir?" Quade Zimmer, con su pelo teñido de azul tan estridente como su voz, soltó: "¡La señora Lancaster acaba de llamar! ¡Lydia ha tenido un accidente de coche! ¡Está en el hospital ahora mismo!" Apenas habían salido las palabras de su boca cuando estalló el caos: sillas arrastrándose, tacones repiqueteando, gente apresurándose hacia la puerta. No era una exageración decir que Lydia Wallace era la chica de moda de su círculo: hermosa, talentosa, frágil de esa forma desgarradora que hacía que la gente quisiera protegerla. Todos la adoraban, la compadecían, la veneraban. ¿Y ahora que su diosa estaba herida? A nadie le quedaba corazón para seguir celebrando una propuesta de matrimonio cuya respuesta todos ya conocían. Incluso el chico que proponía lo dejó todo y salió corriendo. "Jasper—" La voz que pronunció su nombre llegó por detrás —suave, apenas más que un suspiro. Fue entonces cuando todos finalmente se dieron cuenta: la mujer a la que le estaban pidiendo matrimonio no había dicho ni una palabra en todo este tiempo. Alguien debió de haber dado a los interruptores en el caos, porque la sala se oscureció. La única luz provenía de las suaves lámparas de la pared. En un rincón, mitad en sombras, mitad en luz, estaba Claudia Lancaster. Su belleza no era del tipo dulce y gentil —era marcada, impactante, inolvidable. Pero en ese momento, su calma resultaba inquietante. Su expresión no revelaba nada. "¿No quieres oír mi respuesta?", preguntó en voz baja. Hacía apenas un minuto, Jasper Fenton le había pedido que se casara con él. Ahora, a medio camino de la puerta, se detuvo en seco. Ni siquiera intentó explicarse. "Claudia, lo siento. Tengo que ir al hospital. Vete a casa primero, ¿vale?" "¿Y si no te dejo ir?" Su voz se mantuvo firme. "Jasper, sabes que la odio." Jasper suspiró, exasperado. "Claudia, ahora no. No es momento para empezar una pelea." "Mi respuesta… puede que solo la obtengas una vez", dijo, tan calmada como siempre. Algo en su tono le hizo hacer una pausa. Normalmente, en cuanto salía el nombre de Lydia, Claudia estallaba —espetando, poniendo los ojos en blanco, maldiciendo a Lydia entre dientes. Pero esta noche, estaba fría, distante. Casi como si lo hubiera estado esperando. Un destello de inquietud le recorrió la espalda a Jasper. "Oh, por favor", intervino Quade, poniendo los ojos en blanco. "Has estado obsesionada con Jasper desde, ¿qué, la secundaria? El tipo finalmente te propone matrimonio y ¿se supone que debemos creer que dirías que no?" "Sí, alguien podría estar muriéndose en serio. Te pueden proponer matrimonio cualquier otro día", añadió alguien más. "¡Exacto! Las familias arreglaron esto hace siglos, toda esta cosa es solo por apariencias." Los comentarios dolían, pero Claudia ni siquiera parpadeó. Sus ojos oscuros permanecieron clavados en Jasper. Esperando. Jasper dejó escapar otro suspiro y volvió hacia ella. Como siempre, le despeinó el cabello como si fuera una niña. "Pórtate bien, ¿vale? No montes una escena. Lydia podría estar gravemente herida. Este no es el momento para una rabieta." Siempre era así. Cada vez que Lydia estaba involucrada, Jasper nunca preguntaba quién tenía razón o no. Corría a consolar a Lydia primero, y luego volvía a regañar a Claudia, suave y paciente, como si fuera una niña mimada que simplemente no entendía. Así se sentía amar a alguien desde abajo. No importaba cuánto gritaras, tu ira era solo "graciosa". Nunca seria. ¿Esta propuesta? Nunca había sido una pregunta real. Jasper ya sabía cuál debería haber sido su respuesta. "¡Oh, al diablo con esto, no puedo quedarme callada más tiempo!" Whitney Sawyer golpeó su bolso de mano contra algo, con furia destellando en sus ojos. Había estado aguantándose desde que Quade irrumpió, pero ya era suficiente. "Jasper, ¿eres su novio o su ambulancia personal? ¿Cómo es que cada vez que Lydia sufre 'un accidente', te llama a ti? Siempre perfectamente sincronizado, siempre arruinando tus planes. ¡La última vez fue una cita, ahora es tu propuesta! ¿Qué, no podía esperar a morirse cinco minutos?" Como mejor amiga de Claudia, Whitney había pasado semanas planeando esta propuesta. Y ahora, una vez más, Lydia la había secuestrado, y Jasper había caído directamente en la trampa. La furia de Whitney se extendió como un incendio forestal. "¡Y el resto de ustedes! ¿Para qué corren, a visitarla o a planear su funeral? ¡A este paso, Lydia ya debería haber muerto cien veces!" "¡Whitney!" El rostro de Jasper se ensombreció; el hombre gentil y afable desapareció. Su voz sonó como un latigazo. "Mide tus palabras." "Oh, perdóname." La voz de Whitney subió de tono, aguda y furiosa. "¿No soportas oír criticar a tu preciosa Lydia? Jasper, ¿acaso recuerdas quién es tu novia?" Los ojos de Jasper se helaron. Claudia le agarró el brazo a Whitney, con voz tranquila pero firme. "Si sales por esa puerta, Jasper, terminamos." Ya se había perdido demasiado tiempo. Jasper se pellizcó el puente de la nariz y suspiró. "No digas algo de lo que te arrepentirás. Claudia, hablaremos cuando vuelva." Se dio la vuelta y salió con paso firme, sin mirar atrás. Ni siquiera sabía lo graves que eran las lesiones de Lydia, solo sabía que tenía que ir. Se dijo a sí mismo: Cuando vuelva, lo compensaré. Le haré una propuesta aún mejor. También tomó nota mental de decirle a Claudia que se alejara de Whitney; claramente esa chica le estaba llenando la cabeza de tonterías. La sala se hundió bajo el peso de todo. Incluso aquellos que pensaban que Claudia estaba siendo dramática se mordieron la lengua. Nadie quería contrariar a Jasper, ni a los Sawyer. Uno a uno, se escabulleron. En minutos, el lugar era irreconocible. Pétalos de rosa aplastados y lazos cubrían el suelo. Botellas de vino rodaban bajo las sillas. Glaseado embadurnaba la alfombra. Toda la escena parecía una parodia de lo que había sido, burlándose de lo ridículo que era todo. Mientras los últimos rezagados se quedaban, alguien frunció el ceño. "Esperen… Lydia es la hija adoptiva de los Lancaster, ¿verdad? Oí que es prima de Claudia. ¿Por qué nadie llamó a Claudia también?" "¿Llamarla? ¿Qué, quieren empeorar aún más las lesiones de Lydia?" "Vaya, ¿qué se supone que significa eso?" "Lo de siempre. Que la señorita Lancaster es fría, cruel, desagradecida… ya sabes cómo va." Los susurros comenzaron de nuevo, suaves, venenosos y familiares. Siempre lo hacían cuando el nombre de Lydia salía junto al de Claudia. El rostro de Whitney ardía de ira. Se volvió hacia Claudia, de repente preocupada. Los cotilleos de extraños no importaban, pero ¿la traición de alguien a quien amas? Eso siempre calaba más hondo. Claudia observó la espalda de Jasper mientras se alejaba, cada paso alejándolo más de ella. Era como ver los años escurriéndose entre sus dedos, el chico con el que había crecido desvaneciéndose a lo lejos. Whitney le había preguntado una vez: Si nada hubiera interrumpido esta noche, ¿habrías dicho que sí? Pero, honestamente: No importara cuál fuera su respuesta, el final habría sido el mismo. Lydia nunca la dejaría ganar. Y Jasper nunca la elegiría a ella. En el momento en que le dio la espalda, no se dio cuenta de que, aunque el futuro pueda parecer interminable, la mujer dispuesta a esperarte no dura para siempre. Jasper… esta vez, realmente te dejo ir. En la mesa, entre el desorden, el teléfono de Claudia vibró. Una notificación de WhatsApp apareció, breve y suficiente. "Perdiste." Capítulo 2 Tres días antes, Lydia había acorralado a Claudia. "Sabes que Jasper está a punto de proponerte matrimonio, ¿verdad?" Sus bonitos ojos brillaban, no de emoción, sino de celos y malicia. "Oí que ambas familias querían pasar directamente a la fiesta de compromiso, pero él insistió en hacerlo bien. Dijo que necesitaba oír tu 'sí' él mismo, o no significaría nada. Ayy, qué romántico, ¿no?" "¿Y qué?" Claudia levantó la vista, su tono plano, sin inmutarse. La sonrisa de Lydia se curvó, afilada y venenosa. "¿Y qué? Claudia, ¿qué hace que una pecadora como tú crea que merece felicidad?" Se inclinó más cerca, con voz azucarada pero goteando veneno. "¿Quieres apostar? En tres días, esa propuesta ni siquiera ocurrirá." Claudia solo la miró fijamente. Para todos los demás, Lydia era pura perfección: de voz suave, gentil, toda gracia y luz. Nadie creería que a puerta cerrada podía escupir veneno así. Podría haber detenido la propuesta en cualquier momento que quisiera. Pero no. A Lydia le gustaba el drama. Quería esperar hasta el acto final, para empujar a Claudia fuera del escenario ella misma. Como siempre hacía. … Después de que la propuesta se fuera al traste, el teléfono de Whitney sonó. Una mirada a la identificación de la llamada, y su rostro se demudó. Maldijo entre dientes y salió corriendo. Había planeado dejar a Claudia primero —Claudia había llegado en el coche de Jasper—, pero cuando Claudia se dio cuenta de que algo pasaba con la madre de Whitney, la instó a irse. Cuando todos los demás se habían ido, Claudia se quedó entre los escombros de flores aplastadas y copas de champán, con la cabeza agachada, su expresión ilegible. Dejó escapar una risita amarga. Era tarde. Las calles afuera estaban tranquilas y vacías. Claudia salió del club sin ganas de ir a casa. Vagó junto al río, el frío de la noche calándole la piel. Entonces, se detuvo en seco. Los vellos de su nuca se erizaron: alguien la seguía. Levantó su teléfono, fingiendo tomar una selfie, inclinándolo lo justo para ver el reflejo detrás de ella. Un grupo de hombres, sombras acercándose. Su pulso se disparó. Empezó a caminar más rápido. Ellos también. Su pulgar se cernió sobre su contacto de emergencia —el número que Jasper la había obligado a configurar hacía un año. En aquel entonces, le había roto el brazo a un acosador por molestar a una chica y había terminado en la comisaría. Jasper la sacó bajo fianza, regañándola durante todo el trayecto a casa por ser imprudente. Se había puesto a sí mismo como su contacto de emergencia, haciéndole prometer que si alguna vez estaba en peligro, lo llamaría a él, sin heroísmos, sin orgullo. Había jurado que sin importar dónde o cuándo, iría por ella. Nunca imaginó que la primera vez que llamaría sería así. "¿Claudia?" La voz de Jasper llegó, baja y cansada. Estaba en el hospital. El accidente de Lydia no había sido grave, pero ella era frágil —nacida prematura, se alteraba fácilmente. Solo él podía calmarla. Todo el clan Lancaster estaba acampado fuera. Lydia acababa de quedarse dormida cuando llegó la llamada, despertándola de un salto. "Jasper, alguien me está siguiendo." Silencio. Luego, su voz, fría, desdeñosa. "Claudia, realmente no puedo irme esta noche. No montes una escena." Pensó que estaba mintiendo, intentando alejarlo otra vez del lado de la cama de Lydia. Justo entonces, la madre de Lydia, Lottie Wallace, entró con un vaso de agua. Su rostro suave y elegante se endureció al ver el teléfono en la mano de Jasper. "¡Claudia!", espetó. "Lydia acaba de tener un accidente, y ni siquiera te molestas en visitar. ¿Ahora estás quién sabe dónde, inventando historias? ¿Cuándo vas a crecer? Escucha: nadie se va esta noche. Deja ya tus juegos mezquinos." Colgó sin dudar. En la cama, Lydia yacía pálida y temblorosa. Su voz era pequeña, vacilante. "Mamá, no te enfades. ¿Y si Claudia realmente está en problemas?" Lottie suspiró, la decepción grabada a fuego. "¿Qué problemas podría tener? Esta no es la primera vez que intenta algo cuando tú estás enferma." En la secundaria, Claudia una vez había llamado a casa en medio de la noche, diciendo que la habían secuestrado y exigiendo dinero de rescate. Esa misma noche, Lydia había caído enferma. La familia ya estaba en pánico, y la supuesta llamada de rescate casi le da un infarto a Lottie. Habían corrido a la ubicación, solo para encontrar a Claudia saliendo ilesa, sin un rasguño. Para cuando volvieron a casa, Lydia se había desplomado en el suelo, sola. Era demasiado tarde cuando finalmente la llevaron al hospital. El doctor dijo que con otro retraso, no habría sobrevivido. Esa noche, el padre de Claudia la había golpeado hasta dejarla sangrando. Pasó un mes en el hospital, y nunca se disculpó. La voz de Lottie se suavizó, cargada de decepción. "¿Cuándo se volvió así mi dulce niña?" Jasper conocía cada palabra de esa historia. Incluso había sido él quien llevaba snacks a escondidas a la cama de Claudia en el hospital después, contando chistes estúpidos para hacerla reír. Pero esta noche era diferente. Se dijo a sí mismo que solo estaba haciendo una rabieta por la propuesta arruinada. No tenía energía para sus pataletas. Mañana, cuando se calmara, hablaría con ella, la haría sonreír de nuevo. Colgó, apartó el cabello de la frente de Lydia y susurró: "Se te ha ido la fiebre. Pórtate bien. Duerme." Los ojos de Lydia brillaron con culpa y suavidad. "Jasper, lo siento por esta noche. Es toda mi culpa. Si no fuera tan débil—" "No. Nunca eres una carga." "Jasper…" "Duerme." Sus pestañas aletearon y se cerraron, y una pequeña sonrisa curvó sus labios. Dormiría tranquila esa noche. … Detrás de Claudia, los hombres se acercaban, lentos, perezosos, como gatos jugando con un ratón. Ella siguió corriendo, la voz de Jasper y el regaño de Lottie resonando en su mente. Tal vez había estado decepcionada demasiadas veces, porque ni siquiera se sentía triste ya, solo vacía. Hueca. La noche de abril era cálida, pero cortaba como cristal. La empujaron a un rincón oscuro. Claudia se detuvo bajo un árbol, su expresión calmada, los ojos bajándose al suelo. Entonces, se movió. Quince minutos después, los hombres yacían esparcidos por el pavimento —brazos retorcidos, piernas rotas, gimiendo de dolor. Claudia, sin aliento y sangrando, se dejó caer en el bordillo. Agarró su teléfono con una mano resbaladiza de sangre y marcó al 911. Después de ese lío en octavo grado, había empezado kickboxing y defensa personal. Había aprendido pronto: nadie vendría a salvarla. Uno de los hombres, con el brazo doblado en la dirección incorrecta, empezó a arrastrarse hacia ella. Los ojos de Claudia se posaron sobre él, fríos y afilados. Antes de que pudiera moverse, una bota cayó con fuerza, enviando al tipo volando. Una sombra se cernió sobre ella: un hombre alto con una sonrisa perezosa y el tipo de rostro que podría salirse con la suya cometiendo un asesinato. La miró desde arriba, haciendo un clic suave con la lengua. "Tss. ¿De dónde ha salido esta criaturita?" Capítulo 3 Sterling Romero salió de la Mansión Romero esa noche, lo suficientemente enfadado como para dejar su coche a medio camino a casa y sacar al perro a pasear. Lo que no esperaba era toparse con esa escena. Allí estaba ella, un capullo de rosa hermoso y malherido, acorralado por una jauría de callejeros desaliñados. Parecía frágil, pero la forma en que levantaba la barbilla, los ojos ardiendo de desafío, lo atrajo directamente de vuelta al cachorro de lobo huérfano con el que había vivido en las montañas casi un mes cuando tenía diez años. Todo fanfarronería y dientes al descubierto, guardando su pequeño trozo de tierra. Débil, pero ardiendo de vida. Ese lobo había muerto por sus manos al final. ¿Y esta chica? Era el mismo tipo de criatura: pequeña, espinosa y lista para hacer sangrar a quien intentara hacerle daño. Su rostro ni siquiera se inmutó mientras rompía los brazos de esos matones como si fueran ramitas. Nada la conmovía. Sterling, que rara vez se preocupaba por nada, sintió un destello de interés que no podía sacudirse. En contra de su mejor juicio, intervino. De cerca, era aún más difícil de olvidar. Esos ojos, oscuros, claros, brillantes como una noche después de la lluvia, se engancharon en algo enterrado profundamente dentro de él. Cuando ella levantó la vista, sobresaltada, había un destello de luz estelar que le hizo picar los dedos, con ganas de alargar la mano, de cubrir esos ojos afilados e intrépidos. Bien. Ya había intervenido. Mejor llevarlo hasta el final. Y, honestamente, necesitaba desahogarse. El callejón se llenó de gritos. Hacía un minuto, esos matones solo estaban demasiado heridos para arrastrarse. ¿Ahora? Estaban hechos pedazos: brazos inútiles, piernas rotas, el pánico espeso en el aire. Se arrepentían de todo. El trabajo había sido simple: golpearla un poco, nada grave. Su jefe incluso les había advertido que no dejaran marcas. Pero ella era demasiado hermosa, y unos cuantos se volvieron codiciosos. ¿Quién podría haber imaginado que la belleza delicada pegaba como un demonio, y lo que era peor, que un hombre como él aparecería de la nada? Frío, letal, como la Muerte misma con un abrigo de diseñador. Si el asesinato fuera legal, estaban seguros de que les habría roto el cuello sin pestañear. El cabecilla ya estaba perdiendo la cabeza. Sterling volvió paseando hasta donde la chica yacía observando desde el suelo. Su tono llevaba un rastro de diversión maliciosa. "Eres rápida, pero no lo suficiente despiadada. Si dejas cabos sueltos así, volverán para morderte. Entonces, pequeña callejera, ¿cómo piensas pagarme esta noche?" Claudia, que podría haber manejado la pelea bien por sí sola, y que ahora de alguna manera le debía algo a este extraño, guardó silencio. Tumbada de espaldas, el rostro surcado de sangre y polvo, de alguna manera parecía irreal en la oscuridad. Sterling frunció el ceño. Sucio. Se inclinó para levantar a la silenciosa rosa a sus pies, entonces algo lo empujó con fuerza. Tropezó, perdió el equilibrio y cayó justo encima de ella. Su peso aplastó su brazo herido; su mano izquierda aterrizó sobre algo más suave. Sus dedos se tensaron y apretaron antes de que su cerebro reaccionara. Se quedó helado. Ella también. Sus ojos se encontraron, muy abiertos en mutua conmoción. A unos metros de distancia, el perro pastor culpable se sentó parpadeando, como diciendo: Por favor, no me vean. Inmovilizada bajo un extraño, con todo dolorido, Claudia respiró hondo y tembloroso. Guapo o no, un grupo seguía siendo un grupo. Su expresión calmada se volvió feroz. Sterling oyó las primeras palabras de la rosa para él esa noche. "¿Nadie te dijo nunca?" "¿Decirme qué?" "Que no metas la nariz en los asuntos de otros." Antes de que la última palabra se desvaneciera, le rodeó el cuello con los brazos y lo tiró hacia abajo. Sus frentes chocaron con un crujido. El dolor se disparó. "¡Agente! ¡Por aquí!" Su voz sonó clara. Segundos después, las sirenas partieron la noche. Los policías vinieron corriendo. Sterling, al darse cuenta de que acababa de ser utilizado, dejó escapar una risa baja e incrédula. "¿Así tratas a tu salvador?" Terminó tumbado exactamente donde ella había estado, su voz goteando sarcasmo. Claudia se puso de pie, medio en sombras, y le dedicó una sonrisa delgada. "Obviamente. Soy la villana desagradecida, ¿recuerdas?" … Esa noche, el chico de oro de Liberty City, el heredero de Romero Corporation, fue llevado a la comisaría. Clint apareció rápido con un abogado, echando miradas furtivas a la chica que despertó la rara misericordia del Segador… y luego lo denunció por acoso. ¿Valiente, verdad? Era hermosa, y claramente no le temía a nada. Una vez que los matones fueron registrados, Clint se preparó, esperando a que Sterling dijera la palabra: Encárgate de ella. En cambio, Sterling dijo: "Averigua quién es." "¿Quién?" La palabra se le escapó antes de que Clint pudiera detenerse. Sterling nunca mostraba interés en ninguna mujer. La sola idea daba miedo. La mirada de Sterling se clavó en él, lo suficientemente afilada para hacerlo callar. "Sí, señor", murmuró Clint rápidamente. Mirando a la chica alejarse a zancadas después de lanzar una última mirada ardiente por encima del hombro, Clint sintió una punzada de lástima. Eso era todo. Ella y toda su familia estaban acabadas. … Ajena a la tormenta que acababa de desatar, Claudia se arrastró a casa al amanecer, perseguida por una ráfaga de llamadas. Su padre, Wilson Lancaster, la recibió en la puerta con una bofetada sonora. "¿Cómo he criado a una hija como tú?" No esquivó a tiempo. Su mejilla pálida enrojeció e hinchó. La habitación se quedó helada. Jasper frunció el ceño, con dolor destellando en sus ojos. Se obligó a no intervenir. Claudia había cruzado la línea esta vez; si no aprendía, quién sabía qué caos provocaría después. Aun así… Wilson había golpeado demasiado fuerte. La visión le retorció algo en el pecho. Lottie, Clarence y Zane llevaban la misma expresión enfadada y decepcionada. En el sofá, los ojos de Lydia brillaban con una alegría mal disimulada. Había estado furiosa la noche anterior porque los cretinos que contrató habían metido la pata y terminado en la comisaría. Por suerte, había cubierto sus huellas. Habían afirmado que fue solo un agarre "en un momento de arrebato", y como no pasó nada grave, no había nada que la vinculara a ella. Había sido dada de alta esa mañana y soltó el cebo que tenía preparado desde hacía tiempo. Los Lancaster se lo tragaron entero. Después de desaparecer toda la noche, nadie preguntó dónde había estado Claudia, ni notó sus heridas. La recibieron con una bofetada. Esa era su familia. Claudia no discutió. Caminó directamente hacia la pequeña Lydia, presumida y satisfecha.
Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now.Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now. Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia Capítulo 1 ¡Bum! Las puertas de la sala del evento se abrieron de golpe. "¡Algo le ha pasado a Lydia!", gritó un hombre al entrar tambaleándose, con el pánico pintado en el rostro. Las palabras impactaron como una bomba. La sala —decorada con flores, lazos y música romántica, bullendo de emoción por la propuesta— quedó instantáneamente en silencio. El hombre en el centro de atención, aún de rodillas, con el anillo en la mano, se giró sobresaltado. "¿Qué acabas de decir?" Quade Zimmer, con su pelo teñido de azul tan estridente como su voz, soltó: "¡La señora Lancaster acaba de llamar! ¡Lydia ha tenido un accidente de coche! ¡Está en el hospital ahora mismo!" Apenas habían salido las palabras de su boca cuando estalló el caos: sillas arrastrándose, tacones repiqueteando, gente apresurándose hacia la puerta. No era una exageración decir que Lydia Wallace era la chica de moda de su círculo: hermosa, talentosa, frágil de esa forma desgarradora que hacía que la gente quisiera protegerla. Todos la adoraban, la compadecían, la veneraban. ¿Y ahora que su diosa estaba herida? A nadie le quedaba corazón para seguir celebrando una propuesta de matrimonio cuya respuesta todos ya conocían. Incluso el chico que proponía lo dejó todo y salió corriendo. "Jasper—" La voz que pronunció su nombre llegó por detrás —suave, apenas más que un suspiro. Fue entonces cuando todos finalmente se dieron cuenta: la mujer a la que le estaban pidiendo matrimonio no había dicho ni una palabra en todo este tiempo. Alguien debió de haber dado a los interruptores en el caos, porque la sala se oscureció. La única luz provenía de las suaves lámparas de la pared. En un rincón, mitad en sombras, mitad en luz, estaba Claudia Lancaster. Su belleza no era del tipo dulce y gentil —era marcada, impactante, inolvidable. Pero en ese momento, su calma resultaba inquietante. Su expresión no revelaba nada. "¿No quieres oír mi respuesta?", preguntó en voz baja. Hacía apenas un minuto, Jasper Fenton le había pedido que se casara con él. Ahora, a medio camino de la puerta, se detuvo en seco. Ni siquiera intentó explicarse. "Claudia, lo siento. Tengo que ir al hospital. Vete a casa primero, ¿vale?" "¿Y si no te dejo ir?" Su voz se mantuvo firme. "Jasper, sabes que la odio." Jasper suspiró, exasperado. "Claudia, ahora no. No es momento para empezar una pelea." "Mi respuesta… puede que solo la obtengas una vez", dijo, tan calmada como siempre. Algo en su tono le hizo hacer una pausa. Normalmente, en cuanto salía el nombre de Lydia, Claudia estallaba —espetando, poniendo los ojos en blanco, maldiciendo a Lydia entre dientes. Pero esta noche, estaba fría, distante. Casi como si lo hubiera estado esperando. Un destello de inquietud le recorrió la espalda a Jasper. "Oh, por favor", intervino Quade, poniendo los ojos en blanco. "Has estado obsesionada con Jasper desde, ¿qué, la secundaria? El tipo finalmente te propone matrimonio y ¿se supone que debemos creer que dirías que no?" "Sí, alguien podría estar muriéndose en serio. Te pueden proponer matrimonio cualquier otro día", añadió alguien más. "¡Exacto! Las familias arreglaron esto hace siglos, toda esta cosa es solo por apariencias." Los comentarios dolían, pero Claudia ni siquiera parpadeó. Sus ojos oscuros permanecieron clavados en Jasper. Esperando. Jasper dejó escapar otro suspiro y volvió hacia ella. Como siempre, le despeinó el cabello como si fuera una niña. "Pórtate bien, ¿vale? No montes una escena. Lydia podría estar gravemente herida. Este no es el momento para una rabieta." Siempre era así. Cada vez que Lydia estaba involucrada, Jasper nunca preguntaba quién tenía razón o no. Corría a consolar a Lydia primero, y luego volvía a regañar a Claudia, suave y paciente, como si fuera una niña mimada que simplemente no entendía. Así se sentía amar a alguien desde abajo. No importaba cuánto gritaras, tu ira era solo "graciosa". Nunca seria. ¿Esta propuesta? Nunca había sido una pregunta real. Jasper ya sabía cuál debería haber sido su respuesta. "¡Oh, al diablo con esto, no puedo quedarme callada más tiempo!" Whitney Sawyer golpeó su bolso de mano contra algo, con furia destellando en sus ojos. Había estado aguantándose desde que Quade irrumpió, pero ya era suficiente. "Jasper, ¿eres su novio o su ambulancia personal? ¿Cómo es que cada vez que Lydia sufre 'un accidente', te llama a ti? Siempre perfectamente sincronizado, siempre arruinando tus planes. ¡La última vez fue una cita, ahora es tu propuesta! ¿Qué, no podía esperar a morirse cinco minutos?" Como mejor amiga de Claudia, Whitney había pasado semanas planeando esta propuesta. Y ahora, una vez más, Lydia la había secuestrado, y Jasper había caído directamente en la trampa. La furia de Whitney se extendió como un incendio forestal. "¡Y el resto de ustedes! ¿Para qué corren, a visitarla o a planear su funeral? ¡A este paso, Lydia ya debería haber muerto cien veces!" "¡Whitney!" El rostro de Jasper se ensombreció; el hombre gentil y afable desapareció. Su voz sonó como un latigazo. "Mide tus palabras." "Oh, perdóname." La voz de Whitney subió de tono, aguda y furiosa. "¿No soportas oír criticar a tu preciosa Lydia? Jasper, ¿acaso recuerdas quién es tu novia?" Los ojos de Jasper se helaron. Claudia le agarró el brazo a Whitney, con voz tranquila pero firme. "Si sales por esa puerta, Jasper, terminamos." Ya se había perdido demasiado tiempo. Jasper se pellizcó el puente de la nariz y suspiró. "No digas algo de lo que te arrepentirás. Claudia, hablaremos cuando vuelva." Se dio la vuelta y salió con paso firme, sin mirar atrás. Ni siquiera sabía lo graves que eran las lesiones de Lydia, solo sabía que tenía que ir. Se dijo a sí mismo: Cuando vuelva, lo compensaré. Le haré una propuesta aún mejor. También tomó nota mental de decirle a Claudia que se alejara de Whitney; claramente esa chica le estaba llenando la cabeza de tonterías. La sala se hundió bajo el peso de todo. Incluso aquellos que pensaban que Claudia estaba siendo dramática se mordieron la lengua. Nadie quería contrariar a Jasper, ni a los Sawyer. Uno a uno, se escabulleron. En minutos, el lugar era irreconocible. Pétalos de rosa aplastados y lazos cubrían el suelo. Botellas de vino rodaban bajo las sillas. Glaseado embadurnaba la alfombra. Toda la escena parecía una parodia de lo que había sido, burlándose de lo ridículo que era todo. Mientras los últimos rezagados se quedaban, alguien frunció el ceño. "Esperen… Lydia es la hija adoptiva de los Lancaster, ¿verdad? Oí que es prima de Claudia. ¿Por qué nadie llamó a Claudia también?" "¿Llamarla? ¿Qué, quieren empeorar aún más las lesiones de Lydia?" "Vaya, ¿qué se supone que significa eso?" "Lo de siempre. Que la señorita Lancaster es fría, cruel, desagradecida… ya sabes cómo va." Los susurros comenzaron de nuevo, suaves, venenosos y familiares. Siempre lo hacían cuando el nombre de Lydia salía junto al de Claudia. El rostro de Whitney ardía de ira. Se volvió hacia Claudia, de repente preocupada. Los cotilleos de extraños no importaban, pero ¿la traición de alguien a quien amas? Eso siempre calaba más hondo. Claudia observó la espalda de Jasper mientras se alejaba, cada paso alejándolo más de ella. Era como ver los años escurriéndose entre sus dedos, el chico con el que había crecido desvaneciéndose a lo lejos. Whitney le había preguntado una vez: Si nada hubiera interrumpido esta noche, ¿habrías dicho que sí? Pero, honestamente: No importara cuál fuera su respuesta, el final habría sido el mismo. Lydia nunca la dejaría ganar. Y Jasper nunca la elegiría a ella. En el momento en que le dio la espalda, no se dio cuenta de que, aunque el futuro pueda parecer interminable, la mujer dispuesta a esperarte no dura para siempre. Jasper… esta vez, realmente te dejo ir. En la mesa, entre el desorden, el teléfono de Claudia vibró. Una notificación de WhatsApp apareció, breve y suficiente. "Perdiste." Capítulo 2 Tres días antes, Lydia había acorralado a Claudia. "Sabes que Jasper está a punto de proponerte matrimonio, ¿verdad?" Sus bonitos ojos brillaban, no de emoción, sino de celos y malicia. "Oí que ambas familias querían pasar directamente a la fiesta de compromiso, pero él insistió en hacerlo bien. Dijo que necesitaba oír tu 'sí' él mismo, o no significaría nada. Ayy, qué romántico, ¿no?" "¿Y qué?" Claudia levantó la vista, su tono plano, sin inmutarse. La sonrisa de Lydia se curvó, afilada y venenosa. "¿Y qué? Claudia, ¿qué hace que una pecadora como tú crea que merece felicidad?" Se inclinó más cerca, con voz azucarada pero goteando veneno. "¿Quieres apostar? En tres días, esa propuesta ni siquiera ocurrirá." Claudia solo la miró fijamente. Para todos los demás, Lydia era pura perfección: de voz suave, gentil, toda gracia y luz. Nadie creería que a puerta cerrada podía escupir veneno así. Podría haber detenido la propuesta en cualquier momento que quisiera. Pero no. A Lydia le gustaba el drama. Quería esperar hasta el acto final, para empujar a Claudia fuera del escenario ella misma. Como siempre hacía. … Después de que la propuesta se fuera al traste, el teléfono de Whitney sonó. Una mirada a la identificación de la llamada, y su rostro se demudó. Maldijo entre dientes y salió corriendo. Había planeado dejar a Claudia primero —Claudia había llegado en el coche de Jasper—, pero cuando Claudia se dio cuenta de que algo pasaba con la madre de Whitney, la instó a irse. Cuando todos los demás se habían ido, Claudia se quedó entre los escombros de flores aplastadas y copas de champán, con la cabeza agachada, su expresión ilegible. Dejó escapar una risita amarga. Era tarde. Las calles afuera estaban tranquilas y vacías. Claudia salió del club sin ganas de ir a casa. Vagó junto al río, el frío de la noche calándole la piel. Entonces, se detuvo en seco. Los vellos de su nuca se erizaron: alguien la seguía. Levantó su teléfono, fingiendo tomar una selfie, inclinándolo lo justo para ver el reflejo detrás de ella. Un grupo de hombres, sombras acercándose. Su pulso se disparó. Empezó a caminar más rápido. Ellos también. Su pulgar se cernió sobre su contacto de emergencia —el número que Jasper la había obligado a configurar hacía un año. En aquel entonces, le había roto el brazo a un acosador por molestar a una chica y había terminado en la comisaría. Jasper la sacó bajo fianza, regañándola durante todo el trayecto a casa por ser imprudente. Se había puesto a sí mismo como su contacto de emergencia, haciéndole prometer que si alguna vez estaba en peligro, lo llamaría a él, sin heroísmos, sin orgullo. Había jurado que sin importar dónde o cuándo, iría por ella. Nunca imaginó que la primera vez que llamaría sería así. "¿Claudia?" La voz de Jasper llegó, baja y cansada. Estaba en el hospital. El accidente de Lydia no había sido grave, pero ella era frágil —nacida prematura, se alteraba fácilmente. Solo él podía calmarla. Todo el clan Lancaster estaba acampado fuera. Lydia acababa de quedarse dormida cuando llegó la llamada, despertándola de un salto. "Jasper, alguien me está siguiendo." Silencio. Luego, su voz, fría, desdeñosa. "Claudia, realmente no puedo irme esta noche. No montes una escena." Pensó que estaba mintiendo, intentando alejarlo otra vez del lado de la cama de Lydia. Justo entonces, la madre de Lydia, Lottie Wallace, entró con un vaso de agua. Su rostro suave y elegante se endureció al ver el teléfono en la mano de Jasper. "¡Claudia!", espetó. "Lydia acaba de tener un accidente, y ni siquiera te molestas en visitar. ¿Ahora estás quién sabe dónde, inventando historias? ¿Cuándo vas a crecer? Escucha: nadie se va esta noche. Deja ya tus juegos mezquinos." Colgó sin dudar. En la cama, Lydia yacía pálida y temblorosa. Su voz era pequeña, vacilante. "Mamá, no te enfades. ¿Y si Claudia realmente está en problemas?" Lottie suspiró, la decepción grabada a fuego. "¿Qué problemas podría tener? Esta no es la primera vez que intenta algo cuando tú estás enferma." En la secundaria, Claudia una vez había llamado a casa en medio de la noche, diciendo que la habían secuestrado y exigiendo dinero de rescate. Esa misma noche, Lydia había caído enferma. La familia ya estaba en pánico, y la supuesta llamada de rescate casi le da un infarto a Lottie. Habían corrido a la ubicación, solo para encontrar a Claudia saliendo ilesa, sin un rasguño. Para cuando volvieron a casa, Lydia se había desplomado en el suelo, sola. Era demasiado tarde cuando finalmente la llevaron al hospital. El doctor dijo que con otro retraso, no habría sobrevivido. Esa noche, el padre de Claudia la había golpeado hasta dejarla sangrando. Pasó un mes en el hospital, y nunca se disculpó. La voz de Lottie se suavizó, cargada de decepción. "¿Cuándo se volvió así mi dulce niña?" Jasper conocía cada palabra de esa historia. Incluso había sido él quien llevaba snacks a escondidas a la cama de Claudia en el hospital después, contando chistes estúpidos para hacerla reír. Pero esta noche era diferente. Se dijo a sí mismo que solo estaba haciendo una rabieta por la propuesta arruinada. No tenía energía para sus pataletas. Mañana, cuando se calmara, hablaría con ella, la haría sonreír de nuevo. Colgó, apartó el cabello de la frente de Lydia y susurró: "Se te ha ido la fiebre. Pórtate bien. Duerme." Los ojos de Lydia brillaron con culpa y suavidad. "Jasper, lo siento por esta noche. Es toda mi culpa. Si no fuera tan débil—" "No. Nunca eres una carga." "Jasper…" "Duerme." Sus pestañas aletearon y se cerraron, y una pequeña sonrisa curvó sus labios. Dormiría tranquila esa noche. … Detrás de Claudia, los hombres se acercaban, lentos, perezosos, como gatos jugando con un ratón. Ella siguió corriendo, la voz de Jasper y el regaño de Lottie resonando en su mente. Tal vez había estado decepcionada demasiadas veces, porque ni siquiera se sentía triste ya, solo vacía. Hueca. La noche de abril era cálida, pero cortaba como cristal. La empujaron a un rincón oscuro. Claudia se detuvo bajo un árbol, su expresión calmada, los ojos bajándose al suelo. Entonces, se movió. Quince minutos después, los hombres yacían esparcidos por el pavimento —brazos retorcidos, piernas rotas, gimiendo de dolor. Claudia, sin aliento y sangrando, se dejó caer en el bordillo. Agarró su teléfono con una mano resbaladiza de sangre y marcó al 911. Después de ese lío en octavo grado, había empezado kickboxing y defensa personal. Había aprendido pronto: nadie vendría a salvarla. Uno de los hombres, con el brazo doblado en la dirección incorrecta, empezó a arrastrarse hacia ella. Los ojos de Claudia se posaron sobre él, fríos y afilados. Antes de que pudiera moverse, una bota cayó con fuerza, enviando al tipo volando. Una sombra se cernió sobre ella: un hombre alto con una sonrisa perezosa y el tipo de rostro que podría salirse con la suya cometiendo un asesinato. La miró desde arriba, haciendo un clic suave con la lengua. "Tss. ¿De dónde ha salido esta criaturita?" Capítulo 3 Sterling Romero salió de la Mansión Romero esa noche, lo suficientemente enfadado como para dejar su coche a medio camino a casa y sacar al perro a pasear. Lo que no esperaba era toparse con esa escena. Allí estaba ella, un capullo de rosa hermoso y malherido, acorralado por una jauría de callejeros desaliñados. Parecía frágil, pero la forma en que levantaba la barbilla, los ojos ardiendo de desafío, lo atrajo directamente de vuelta al cachorro de lobo huérfano con el que había vivido en las montañas casi un mes cuando tenía diez años. Todo fanfarronería y dientes al descubierto, guardando su pequeño trozo de tierra. Débil, pero ardiendo de vida. Ese lobo había muerto por sus manos al final. ¿Y esta chica? Era el mismo tipo de criatura: pequeña, espinosa y lista para hacer sangrar a quien intentara hacerle daño. Su rostro ni siquiera se inmutó mientras rompía los brazos de esos matones como si fueran ramitas. Nada la conmovía. Sterling, que rara vez se preocupaba por nada, sintió un destello de interés que no podía sacudirse. En contra de su mejor juicio, intervino. De cerca, era aún más difícil de olvidar. Esos ojos, oscuros, claros, brillantes como una noche después de la lluvia, se engancharon en algo enterrado profundamente dentro de él. Cuando ella levantó la vista, sobresaltada, había un destello de luz estelar que le hizo picar los dedos, con ganas de alargar la mano, de cubrir esos ojos afilados e intrépidos. Bien. Ya había intervenido. Mejor llevarlo hasta el final. Y, honestamente, necesitaba desahogarse. El callejón se llenó de gritos. Hacía un minuto, esos matones solo estaban demasiado heridos para arrastrarse. ¿Ahora? Estaban hechos pedazos: brazos inútiles, piernas rotas, el pánico espeso en el aire. Se arrepentían de todo. El trabajo había sido simple: golpearla un poco, nada grave. Su jefe incluso les había advertido que no dejaran marcas. Pero ella era demasiado hermosa, y unos cuantos se volvieron codiciosos. ¿Quién podría haber imaginado que la belleza delicada pegaba como un demonio, y lo que era peor, que un hombre como él aparecería de la nada? Frío, letal, como la Muerte misma con un abrigo de diseñador. Si el asesinato fuera legal, estaban seguros de que les habría roto el cuello sin pestañear. El cabecilla ya estaba perdiendo la cabeza. Sterling volvió paseando hasta donde la chica yacía observando desde el suelo. Su tono llevaba un rastro de diversión maliciosa. "Eres rápida, pero no lo suficiente despiadada. Si dejas cabos sueltos así, volverán para morderte. Entonces, pequeña callejera, ¿cómo piensas pagarme esta noche?" Claudia, que podría haber manejado la pelea bien por sí sola, y que ahora de alguna manera le debía algo a este extraño, guardó silencio. Tumbada de espaldas, el rostro surcado de sangre y polvo, de alguna manera parecía irreal en la oscuridad. Sterling frunció el ceño. Sucio. Se inclinó para levantar a la silenciosa rosa a sus pies, entonces algo lo empujó con fuerza. Tropezó, perdió el equilibrio y cayó justo encima de ella. Su peso aplastó su brazo herido; su mano izquierda aterrizó sobre algo más suave. Sus dedos se tensaron y apretaron antes de que su cerebro reaccionara. Se quedó helado. Ella también. Sus ojos se encontraron, muy abiertos en mutua conmoción. A unos metros de distancia, el perro pastor culpable se sentó parpadeando, como diciendo: Por favor, no me vean. Inmovilizada bajo un extraño, con todo dolorido, Claudia respiró hondo y tembloroso. Guapo o no, un grupo seguía siendo un grupo. Su expresión calmada se volvió feroz. Sterling oyó las primeras palabras de la rosa para él esa noche. "¿Nadie te dijo nunca?" "¿Decirme qué?" "Que no metas la nariz en los asuntos de otros." Antes de que la última palabra se desvaneciera, le rodeó el cuello con los brazos y lo tiró hacia abajo. Sus frentes chocaron con un crujido. El dolor se disparó. "¡Agente! ¡Por aquí!" Su voz sonó clara. Segundos después, las sirenas partieron la noche. Los policías vinieron corriendo. Sterling, al darse cuenta de que acababa de ser utilizado, dejó escapar una risa baja e incrédula. "¿Así tratas a tu salvador?" Terminó tumbado exactamente donde ella había estado, su voz goteando sarcasmo. Claudia se puso de pie, medio en sombras, y le dedicó una sonrisa delgada. "Obviamente. Soy la villana desagradecida, ¿recuerdas?" … Esa noche, el chico de oro de Liberty City, el heredero de Romero Corporation, fue llevado a la comisaría. Clint apareció rápido con un abogado, echando miradas furtivas a la chica que despertó la rara misericordia del Segador… y luego lo denunció por acoso. ¿Valiente, verdad? Era hermosa, y claramente no le temía a nada. Una vez que los matones fueron registrados, Clint se preparó, esperando a que Sterling dijera la palabra: Encárgate de ella. En cambio, Sterling dijo: "Averigua quién es." "¿Quién?" La palabra se le escapó antes de que Clint pudiera detenerse. Sterling nunca mostraba interés en ninguna mujer. La sola idea daba miedo. La mirada de Sterling se clavó en él, lo suficientemente afilada para hacerlo callar. "Sí, señor", murmuró Clint rápidamente. Mirando a la chica alejarse a zancadas después de lanzar una última mirada ardiente por encima del hombro, Clint sintió una punzada de lástima. Eso era todo. Ella y toda su familia estaban acabadas. … Ajena a la tormenta que acababa de desatar, Claudia se arrastró a casa al amanecer, perseguida por una ráfaga de llamadas. Su padre, Wilson Lancaster, la recibió en la puerta con una bofetada sonora. "¿Cómo he criado a una hija como tú?" No esquivó a tiempo. Su mejilla pálida enrojeció e hinchó. La habitación se quedó helada. Jasper frunció el ceño, con dolor destellando en sus ojos. Se obligó a no intervenir. Claudia había cruzado la línea esta vez; si no aprendía, quién sabía qué caos provocaría después. Aun así… Wilson había golpeado demasiado fuerte. La visión le retorció algo en el pecho. Lottie, Clarence y Zane llevaban la misma expresión enfadada y decepcionada. En el sofá, los ojos de Lydia brillaban con una alegría mal disimulada. Había estado furiosa la noche anterior porque los cretinos que contrató habían metido la pata y terminado en la comisaría. Por suerte, había cubierto sus huellas. Habían afirmado que fue solo un agarre "en un momento de arrebato", y como no pasó nada grave, no había nada que la vinculara a ella. Había sido dada de alta esa mañana y soltó el cebo que tenía preparado desde hacía tiempo. Los Lancaster se lo tragaron entero. Después de desaparecer toda la noche, nadie preguntó dónde había estado Claudia, ni notó sus heridas. La recibieron con una bofetada. Esa era su familia. Claudia no discutió. Caminó directamente hacia la pequeña Lydia, presumida y satisfecha.
Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now.Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now. Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia Capítulo 1 ¡Bum! Las puertas de la sala del evento se abrieron de golpe. "¡Algo le ha pasado a Lydia!", gritó un hombre al entrar tambaleándose, con el pánico pintado en el rostro. Las palabras impactaron como una bomba. La sala —decorada con flores, lazos y música romántica, bullendo de emoción por la propuesta— quedó instantáneamente en silencio. El hombre en el centro de atención, aún de rodillas, con el anillo en la mano, se giró sobresaltado. "¿Qué acabas de decir?" Quade Zimmer, con su pelo teñido de azul tan estridente como su voz, soltó: "¡La señora Lancaster acaba de llamar! ¡Lydia ha tenido un accidente de coche! ¡Está en el hospital ahora mismo!" Apenas habían salido las palabras de su boca cuando estalló el caos: sillas arrastrándose, tacones repiqueteando, gente apresurándose hacia la puerta. No era una exageración decir que Lydia Wallace era la chica de moda de su círculo: hermosa, talentosa, frágil de esa forma desgarradora que hacía que la gente quisiera protegerla. Todos la adoraban, la compadecían, la veneraban. ¿Y ahora que su diosa estaba herida? A nadie le quedaba corazón para seguir celebrando una propuesta de matrimonio cuya respuesta todos ya conocían. Incluso el chico que proponía lo dejó todo y salió corriendo. "Jasper—" La voz que pronunció su nombre llegó por detrás —suave, apenas más que un suspiro. Fue entonces cuando todos finalmente se dieron cuenta: la mujer a la que le estaban pidiendo matrimonio no había dicho ni una palabra en todo este tiempo. Alguien debió de haber dado a los interruptores en el caos, porque la sala se oscureció. La única luz provenía de las suaves lámparas de la pared. En un rincón, mitad en sombras, mitad en luz, estaba Claudia Lancaster. Su belleza no era del tipo dulce y gentil —era marcada, impactante, inolvidable. Pero en ese momento, su calma resultaba inquietante. Su expresión no revelaba nada. "¿No quieres oír mi respuesta?", preguntó en voz baja. Hacía apenas un minuto, Jasper Fenton le había pedido que se casara con él. Ahora, a medio camino de la puerta, se detuvo en seco. Ni siquiera intentó explicarse. "Claudia, lo siento. Tengo que ir al hospital. Vete a casa primero, ¿vale?" "¿Y si no te dejo ir?" Su voz se mantuvo firme. "Jasper, sabes que la odio." Jasper suspiró, exasperado. "Claudia, ahora no. No es momento para empezar una pelea." "Mi respuesta… puede que solo la obtengas una vez", dijo, tan calmada como siempre. Algo en su tono le hizo hacer una pausa. Normalmente, en cuanto salía el nombre de Lydia, Claudia estallaba —espetando, poniendo los ojos en blanco, maldiciendo a Lydia entre dientes. Pero esta noche, estaba fría, distante. Casi como si lo hubiera estado esperando. Un destello de inquietud le recorrió la espalda a Jasper. "Oh, por favor", intervino Quade, poniendo los ojos en blanco. "Has estado obsesionada con Jasper desde, ¿qué, la secundaria? El tipo finalmente te propone matrimonio y ¿se supone que debemos creer que dirías que no?" "Sí, alguien podría estar muriéndose en serio. Te pueden proponer matrimonio cualquier otro día", añadió alguien más. "¡Exacto! Las familias arreglaron esto hace siglos, toda esta cosa es solo por apariencias." Los comentarios dolían, pero Claudia ni siquiera parpadeó. Sus ojos oscuros permanecieron clavados en Jasper. Esperando. Jasper dejó escapar otro suspiro y volvió hacia ella. Como siempre, le despeinó el cabello como si fuera una niña. "Pórtate bien, ¿vale? No montes una escena. Lydia podría estar gravemente herida. Este no es el momento para una rabieta." Siempre era así. Cada vez que Lydia estaba involucrada, Jasper nunca preguntaba quién tenía razón o no. Corría a consolar a Lydia primero, y luego volvía a regañar a Claudia, suave y paciente, como si fuera una niña mimada que simplemente no entendía. Así se sentía amar a alguien desde abajo. No importaba cuánto gritaras, tu ira era solo "graciosa". Nunca seria. ¿Esta propuesta? Nunca había sido una pregunta real. Jasper ya sabía cuál debería haber sido su respuesta. "¡Oh, al diablo con esto, no puedo quedarme callada más tiempo!" Whitney Sawyer golpeó su bolso de mano contra algo, con furia destellando en sus ojos. Había estado aguantándose desde que Quade irrumpió, pero ya era suficiente. "Jasper, ¿eres su novio o su ambulancia personal? ¿Cómo es que cada vez que Lydia sufre 'un accidente', te llama a ti? Siempre perfectamente sincronizado, siempre arruinando tus planes. ¡La última vez fue una cita, ahora es tu propuesta! ¿Qué, no podía esperar a morirse cinco minutos?" Como mejor amiga de Claudia, Whitney había pasado semanas planeando esta propuesta. Y ahora, una vez más, Lydia la había secuestrado, y Jasper había caído directamente en la trampa. La furia de Whitney se extendió como un incendio forestal. "¡Y el resto de ustedes! ¿Para qué corren, a visitarla o a planear su funeral? ¡A este paso, Lydia ya debería haber muerto cien veces!" "¡Whitney!" El rostro de Jasper se ensombreció; el hombre gentil y afable desapareció. Su voz sonó como un latigazo. "Mide tus palabras." "Oh, perdóname." La voz de Whitney subió de tono, aguda y furiosa. "¿No soportas oír criticar a tu preciosa Lydia? Jasper, ¿acaso recuerdas quién es tu novia?" Los ojos de Jasper se helaron. Claudia le agarró el brazo a Whitney, con voz tranquila pero firme. "Si sales por esa puerta, Jasper, terminamos." Ya se había perdido demasiado tiempo. Jasper se pellizcó el puente de la nariz y suspiró. "No digas algo de lo que te arrepentirás. Claudia, hablaremos cuando vuelva." Se dio la vuelta y salió con paso firme, sin mirar atrás. Ni siquiera sabía lo graves que eran las lesiones de Lydia, solo sabía que tenía que ir. Se dijo a sí mismo: Cuando vuelva, lo compensaré. Le haré una propuesta aún mejor. También tomó nota mental de decirle a Claudia que se alejara de Whitney; claramente esa chica le estaba llenando la cabeza de tonterías. La sala se hundió bajo el peso de todo. Incluso aquellos que pensaban que Claudia estaba siendo dramática se mordieron la lengua. Nadie quería contrariar a Jasper, ni a los Sawyer. Uno a uno, se escabulleron. En minutos, el lugar era irreconocible. Pétalos de rosa aplastados y lazos cubrían el suelo. Botellas de vino rodaban bajo las sillas. Glaseado embadurnaba la alfombra. Toda la escena parecía una parodia de lo que había sido, burlándose de lo ridículo que era todo. Mientras los últimos rezagados se quedaban, alguien frunció el ceño. "Esperen… Lydia es la hija adoptiva de los Lancaster, ¿verdad? Oí que es prima de Claudia. ¿Por qué nadie llamó a Claudia también?" "¿Llamarla? ¿Qué, quieren empeorar aún más las lesiones de Lydia?" "Vaya, ¿qué se supone que significa eso?" "Lo de siempre. Que la señorita Lancaster es fría, cruel, desagradecida… ya sabes cómo va." Los susurros comenzaron de nuevo, suaves, venenosos y familiares. Siempre lo hacían cuando el nombre de Lydia salía junto al de Claudia. El rostro de Whitney ardía de ira. Se volvió hacia Claudia, de repente preocupada. Los cotilleos de extraños no importaban, pero ¿la traición de alguien a quien amas? Eso siempre calaba más hondo. Claudia observó la espalda de Jasper mientras se alejaba, cada paso alejándolo más de ella. Era como ver los años escurriéndose entre sus dedos, el chico con el que había crecido desvaneciéndose a lo lejos. Whitney le había preguntado una vez: Si nada hubiera interrumpido esta noche, ¿habrías dicho que sí? Pero, honestamente: No importara cuál fuera su respuesta, el final habría sido el mismo. Lydia nunca la dejaría ganar. Y Jasper nunca la elegiría a ella. En el momento en que le dio la espalda, no se dio cuenta de que, aunque el futuro pueda parecer interminable, la mujer dispuesta a esperarte no dura para siempre. Jasper… esta vez, realmente te dejo ir. En la mesa, entre el desorden, el teléfono de Claudia vibró. Una notificación de WhatsApp apareció, breve y suficiente. "Perdiste." Capítulo 2 Tres días antes, Lydia había acorralado a Claudia. "Sabes que Jasper está a punto de proponerte matrimonio, ¿verdad?" Sus bonitos ojos brillaban, no de emoción, sino de celos y malicia. "Oí que ambas familias querían pasar directamente a la fiesta de compromiso, pero él insistió en hacerlo bien. Dijo que necesitaba oír tu 'sí' él mismo, o no significaría nada. Ayy, qué romántico, ¿no?" "¿Y qué?" Claudia levantó la vista, su tono plano, sin inmutarse. La sonrisa de Lydia se curvó, afilada y venenosa. "¿Y qué? Claudia, ¿qué hace que una pecadora como tú crea que merece felicidad?" Se inclinó más cerca, con voz azucarada pero goteando veneno. "¿Quieres apostar? En tres días, esa propuesta ni siquiera ocurrirá." Claudia solo la miró fijamente. Para todos los demás, Lydia era pura perfección: de voz suave, gentil, toda gracia y luz. Nadie creería que a puerta cerrada podía escupir veneno así. Podría haber detenido la propuesta en cualquier momento que quisiera. Pero no. A Lydia le gustaba el drama. Quería esperar hasta el acto final, para empujar a Claudia fuera del escenario ella misma. Como siempre hacía. … Después de que la propuesta se fuera al traste, el teléfono de Whitney sonó. Una mirada a la identificación de la llamada, y su rostro se demudó. Maldijo entre dientes y salió corriendo. Había planeado dejar a Claudia primero —Claudia había llegado en el coche de Jasper—, pero cuando Claudia se dio cuenta de que algo pasaba con la madre de Whitney, la instó a irse. Cuando todos los demás se habían ido, Claudia se quedó entre los escombros de flores aplastadas y copas de champán, con la cabeza agachada, su expresión ilegible. Dejó escapar una risita amarga. Era tarde. Las calles afuera estaban tranquilas y vacías. Claudia salió del club sin ganas de ir a casa. Vagó junto al río, el frío de la noche calándole la piel. Entonces, se detuvo en seco. Los vellos de su nuca se erizaron: alguien la seguía. Levantó su teléfono, fingiendo tomar una selfie, inclinándolo lo justo para ver el reflejo detrás de ella. Un grupo de hombres, sombras acercándose. Su pulso se disparó. Empezó a caminar más rápido. Ellos también. Su pulgar se cernió sobre su contacto de emergencia —el número que Jasper la había obligado a configurar hacía un año. En aquel entonces, le había roto el brazo a un acosador por molestar a una chica y había terminado en la comisaría. Jasper la sacó bajo fianza, regañándola durante todo el trayecto a casa por ser imprudente. Se había puesto a sí mismo como su contacto de emergencia, haciéndole prometer que si alguna vez estaba en peligro, lo llamaría a él, sin heroísmos, sin orgullo. Había jurado que sin importar dónde o cuándo, iría por ella. Nunca imaginó que la primera vez que llamaría sería así. "¿Claudia?" La voz de Jasper llegó, baja y cansada. Estaba en el hospital. El accidente de Lydia no había sido grave, pero ella era frágil —nacida prematura, se alteraba fácilmente. Solo él podía calmarla. Todo el clan Lancaster estaba acampado fuera. Lydia acababa de quedarse dormida cuando llegó la llamada, despertándola de un salto. "Jasper, alguien me está siguiendo." Silencio. Luego, su voz, fría, desdeñosa. "Claudia, realmente no puedo irme esta noche. No montes una escena." Pensó que estaba mintiendo, intentando alejarlo otra vez del lado de la cama de Lydia. Justo entonces, la madre de Lydia, Lottie Wallace, entró con un vaso de agua. Su rostro suave y elegante se endureció al ver el teléfono en la mano de Jasper. "¡Claudia!", espetó. "Lydia acaba de tener un accidente, y ni siquiera te molestas en visitar. ¿Ahora estás quién sabe dónde, inventando historias? ¿Cuándo vas a crecer? Escucha: nadie se va esta noche. Deja ya tus juegos mezquinos." Colgó sin dudar. En la cama, Lydia yacía pálida y temblorosa. Su voz era pequeña, vacilante. "Mamá, no te enfades. ¿Y si Claudia realmente está en problemas?" Lottie suspiró, la decepción grabada a fuego. "¿Qué problemas podría tener? Esta no es la primera vez que intenta algo cuando tú estás enferma." En la secundaria, Claudia una vez había llamado a casa en medio de la noche, diciendo que la habían secuestrado y exigiendo dinero de rescate. Esa misma noche, Lydia había caído enferma. La familia ya estaba en pánico, y la supuesta llamada de rescate casi le da un infarto a Lottie. Habían corrido a la ubicación, solo para encontrar a Claudia saliendo ilesa, sin un rasguño. Para cuando volvieron a casa, Lydia se había desplomado en el suelo, sola. Era demasiado tarde cuando finalmente la llevaron al hospital. El doctor dijo que con otro retraso, no habría sobrevivido. Esa noche, el padre de Claudia la había golpeado hasta dejarla sangrando. Pasó un mes en el hospital, y nunca se disculpó. La voz de Lottie se suavizó, cargada de decepción. "¿Cuándo se volvió así mi dulce niña?" Jasper conocía cada palabra de esa historia. Incluso había sido él quien llevaba snacks a escondidas a la cama de Claudia en el hospital después, contando chistes estúpidos para hacerla reír. Pero esta noche era diferente. Se dijo a sí mismo que solo estaba haciendo una rabieta por la propuesta arruinada. No tenía energía para sus pataletas. Mañana, cuando se calmara, hablaría con ella, la haría sonreír de nuevo. Colgó, apartó el cabello de la frente de Lydia y susurró: "Se te ha ido la fiebre. Pórtate bien. Duerme." Los ojos de Lydia brillaron con culpa y suavidad. "Jasper, lo siento por esta noche. Es toda mi culpa. Si no fuera tan débil—" "No. Nunca eres una carga." "Jasper…" "Duerme." Sus pestañas aletearon y se cerraron, y una pequeña sonrisa curvó sus labios. Dormiría tranquila esa noche. … Detrás de Claudia, los hombres se acercaban, lentos, perezosos, como gatos jugando con un ratón. Ella siguió corriendo, la voz de Jasper y el regaño de Lottie resonando en su mente. Tal vez había estado decepcionada demasiadas veces, porque ni siquiera se sentía triste ya, solo vacía. Hueca. La noche de abril era cálida, pero cortaba como cristal. La empujaron a un rincón oscuro. Claudia se detuvo bajo un árbol, su expresión calmada, los ojos bajándose al suelo. Entonces, se movió. Quince minutos después, los hombres yacían esparcidos por el pavimento —brazos retorcidos, piernas rotas, gimiendo de dolor. Claudia, sin aliento y sangrando, se dejó caer en el bordillo. Agarró su teléfono con una mano resbaladiza de sangre y marcó al 911. Después de ese lío en octavo grado, había empezado kickboxing y defensa personal. Había aprendido pronto: nadie vendría a salvarla. Uno de los hombres, con el brazo doblado en la dirección incorrecta, empezó a arrastrarse hacia ella. Los ojos de Claudia se posaron sobre él, fríos y afilados. Antes de que pudiera moverse, una bota cayó con fuerza, enviando al tipo volando. Una sombra se cernió sobre ella: un hombre alto con una sonrisa perezosa y el tipo de rostro que podría salirse con la suya cometiendo un asesinato. La miró desde arriba, haciendo un clic suave con la lengua. "Tss. ¿De dónde ha salido esta criaturita?" Capítulo 3 Sterling Romero salió de la Mansión Romero esa noche, lo suficientemente enfadado como para dejar su coche a medio camino a casa y sacar al perro a pasear. Lo que no esperaba era toparse con esa escena. Allí estaba ella, un capullo de rosa hermoso y malherido, acorralado por una jauría de callejeros desaliñados. Parecía frágil, pero la forma en que levantaba la barbilla, los ojos ardiendo de desafío, lo atrajo directamente de vuelta al cachorro de lobo huérfano con el que había vivido en las montañas casi un mes cuando tenía diez años. Todo fanfarronería y dientes al descubierto, guardando su pequeño trozo de tierra. Débil, pero ardiendo de vida. Ese lobo había muerto por sus manos al final. ¿Y esta chica? Era el mismo tipo de criatura: pequeña, espinosa y lista para hacer sangrar a quien intentara hacerle daño. Su rostro ni siquiera se inmutó mientras rompía los brazos de esos matones como si fueran ramitas. Nada la conmovía. Sterling, que rara vez se preocupaba por nada, sintió un destello de interés que no podía sacudirse. En contra de su mejor juicio, intervino. De cerca, era aún más difícil de olvidar. Esos ojos, oscuros, claros, brillantes como una noche después de la lluvia, se engancharon en algo enterrado profundamente dentro de él. Cuando ella levantó la vista, sobresaltada, había un destello de luz estelar que le hizo picar los dedos, con ganas de alargar la mano, de cubrir esos ojos afilados e intrépidos. Bien. Ya había intervenido. Mejor llevarlo hasta el final. Y, honestamente, necesitaba desahogarse. El callejón se llenó de gritos. Hacía un minuto, esos matones solo estaban demasiado heridos para arrastrarse. ¿Ahora? Estaban hechos pedazos: brazos inútiles, piernas rotas, el pánico espeso en el aire. Se arrepentían de todo. El trabajo había sido simple: golpearla un poco, nada grave. Su jefe incluso les había advertido que no dejaran marcas. Pero ella era demasiado hermosa, y unos cuantos se volvieron codiciosos. ¿Quién podría haber imaginado que la belleza delicada pegaba como un demonio, y lo que era peor, que un hombre como él aparecería de la nada? Frío, letal, como la Muerte misma con un abrigo de diseñador. Si el asesinato fuera legal, estaban seguros de que les habría roto el cuello sin pestañear. El cabecilla ya estaba perdiendo la cabeza. Sterling volvió paseando hasta donde la chica yacía observando desde el suelo. Su tono llevaba un rastro de diversión maliciosa. "Eres rápida, pero no lo suficiente despiadada. Si dejas cabos sueltos así, volverán para morderte. Entonces, pequeña callejera, ¿cómo piensas pagarme esta noche?" Claudia, que podría haber manejado la pelea bien por sí sola, y que ahora de alguna manera le debía algo a este extraño, guardó silencio. Tumbada de espaldas, el rostro surcado de sangre y polvo, de alguna manera parecía irreal en la oscuridad. Sterling frunció el ceño. Sucio. Se inclinó para levantar a la silenciosa rosa a sus pies, entonces algo lo empujó con fuerza. Tropezó, perdió el equilibrio y cayó justo encima de ella. Su peso aplastó su brazo herido; su mano izquierda aterrizó sobre algo más suave. Sus dedos se tensaron y apretaron antes de que su cerebro reaccionara. Se quedó helado. Ella también. Sus ojos se encontraron, muy abiertos en mutua conmoción. A unos metros de distancia, el perro pastor culpable se sentó parpadeando, como diciendo: Por favor, no me vean. Inmovilizada bajo un extraño, con todo dolorido, Claudia respiró hondo y tembloroso. Guapo o no, un grupo seguía siendo un grupo. Su expresión calmada se volvió feroz. Sterling oyó las primeras palabras de la rosa para él esa noche. "¿Nadie te dijo nunca?" "¿Decirme qué?" "Que no metas la nariz en los asuntos de otros." Antes de que la última palabra se desvaneciera, le rodeó el cuello con los brazos y lo tiró hacia abajo. Sus frentes chocaron con un crujido. El dolor se disparó. "¡Agente! ¡Por aquí!" Su voz sonó clara. Segundos después, las sirenas partieron la noche. Los policías vinieron corriendo. Sterling, al darse cuenta de que acababa de ser utilizado, dejó escapar una risa baja e incrédula. "¿Así tratas a tu salvador?" Terminó tumbado exactamente donde ella había estado, su voz goteando sarcasmo. Claudia se puso de pie, medio en sombras, y le dedicó una sonrisa delgada. "Obviamente. Soy la villana desagradecida, ¿recuerdas?" … Esa noche, el chico de oro de Liberty City, el heredero de Romero Corporation, fue llevado a la comisaría. Clint apareció rápido con un abogado, echando miradas furtivas a la chica que despertó la rara misericordia del Segador… y luego lo denunció por acoso. ¿Valiente, verdad? Era hermosa, y claramente no le temía a nada. Una vez que los matones fueron registrados, Clint se preparó, esperando a que Sterling dijera la palabra: Encárgate de ella. En cambio, Sterling dijo: "Averigua quién es." "¿Quién?" La palabra se le escapó antes de que Clint pudiera detenerse. Sterling nunca mostraba interés en ninguna mujer. La sola idea daba miedo. La mirada de Sterling se clavó en él, lo suficientemente afilada para hacerlo callar. "Sí, señor", murmuró Clint rápidamente. Mirando a la chica alejarse a zancadas después de lanzar una última mirada ardiente por encima del hombro, Clint sintió una punzada de lástima. Eso era todo. Ella y toda su familia estaban acabadas. … Ajena a la tormenta que acababa de desatar, Claudia se arrastró a casa al amanecer, perseguida por una ráfaga de llamadas. Su padre, Wilson Lancaster, la recibió en la puerta con una bofetada sonora. "¿Cómo he criado a una hija como tú?" No esquivó a tiempo. Su mejilla pálida enrojeció e hinchó. La habitación se quedó helada. Jasper frunció el ceño, con dolor destellando en sus ojos. Se obligó a no intervenir. Claudia había cruzado la línea esta vez; si no aprendía, quién sabía qué caos provocaría después. Aun así… Wilson había golpeado demasiado fuerte. La visión le retorció algo en el pecho. Lottie, Clarence y Zane llevaban la misma expresión enfadada y decepcionada. En el sofá, los ojos de Lydia brillaban con una alegría mal disimulada. Había estado furiosa la noche anterior porque los cretinos que contrató habían metido la pata y terminado en la comisaría. Por suerte, había cubierto sus huellas. Habían afirmado que fue solo un agarre "en un momento de arrebato", y como no pasó nada grave, no había nada que la vinculara a ella. Había sido dada de alta esa mañana y soltó el cebo que tenía preparado desde hacía tiempo. Los Lancaster se lo tragaron entero. Después de desaparecer toda la noche, nadie preguntó dónde había estado Claudia, ni notó sus heridas. La recibieron con una bofetada. Esa era su familia. Claudia no discutió. Caminó directamente hacia la pequeña Lydia, presumida y satisfecha.
Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now.Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now. Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia Capítulo 1 ¡Bum! Las puertas de la sala del evento se abrieron de golpe. "¡Algo le ha pasado a Lydia!", gritó un hombre al entrar tambaleándose, con el pánico pintado en el rostro. Las palabras impactaron como una bomba. La sala —decorada con flores, lazos y música romántica, bullendo de emoción por la propuesta— quedó instantáneamente en silencio. El hombre en el centro de atención, aún de rodillas, con el anillo en la mano, se giró sobresaltado. "¿Qué acabas de decir?" Quade Zimmer, con su pelo teñido de azul tan estridente como su voz, soltó: "¡La señora Lancaster acaba de llamar! ¡Lydia ha tenido un accidente de coche! ¡Está en el hospital ahora mismo!" Apenas habían salido las palabras de su boca cuando estalló el caos: sillas arrastrándose, tacones repiqueteando, gente apresurándose hacia la puerta. No era una exageración decir que Lydia Wallace era la chica de moda de su círculo: hermosa, talentosa, frágil de esa forma desgarradora que hacía que la gente quisiera protegerla. Todos la adoraban, la compadecían, la veneraban. ¿Y ahora que su diosa estaba herida? A nadie le quedaba corazón para seguir celebrando una propuesta de matrimonio cuya respuesta todos ya conocían. Incluso el chico que proponía lo dejó todo y salió corriendo. "Jasper—" La voz que pronunció su nombre llegó por detrás —suave, apenas más que un suspiro. Fue entonces cuando todos finalmente se dieron cuenta: la mujer a la que le estaban pidiendo matrimonio no había dicho ni una palabra en todo este tiempo. Alguien debió de haber dado a los interruptores en el caos, porque la sala se oscureció. La única luz provenía de las suaves lámparas de la pared. En un rincón, mitad en sombras, mitad en luz, estaba Claudia Lancaster. Su belleza no era del tipo dulce y gentil —era marcada, impactante, inolvidable. Pero en ese momento, su calma resultaba inquietante. Su expresión no revelaba nada. "¿No quieres oír mi respuesta?", preguntó en voz baja. Hacía apenas un minuto, Jasper Fenton le había pedido que se casara con él. Ahora, a medio camino de la puerta, se detuvo en seco. Ni siquiera intentó explicarse. "Claudia, lo siento. Tengo que ir al hospital. Vete a casa primero, ¿vale?" "¿Y si no te dejo ir?" Su voz se mantuvo firme. "Jasper, sabes que la odio." Jasper suspiró, exasperado. "Claudia, ahora no. No es momento para empezar una pelea." "Mi respuesta… puede que solo la obtengas una vez", dijo, tan calmada como siempre. Algo en su tono le hizo hacer una pausa. Normalmente, en cuanto salía el nombre de Lydia, Claudia estallaba —espetando, poniendo los ojos en blanco, maldiciendo a Lydia entre dientes. Pero esta noche, estaba fría, distante. Casi como si lo hubiera estado esperando. Un destello de inquietud le recorrió la espalda a Jasper. "Oh, por favor", intervino Quade, poniendo los ojos en blanco. "Has estado obsesionada con Jasper desde, ¿qué, la secundaria? El tipo finalmente te propone matrimonio y ¿se supone que debemos creer que dirías que no?" "Sí, alguien podría estar muriéndose en serio. Te pueden proponer matrimonio cualquier otro día", añadió alguien más. "¡Exacto! Las familias arreglaron esto hace siglos, toda esta cosa es solo por apariencias." Los comentarios dolían, pero Claudia ni siquiera parpadeó. Sus ojos oscuros permanecieron clavados en Jasper. Esperando. Jasper dejó escapar otro suspiro y volvió hacia ella. Como siempre, le despeinó el cabello como si fuera una niña. "Pórtate bien, ¿vale? No montes una escena. Lydia podría estar gravemente herida. Este no es el momento para una rabieta." Siempre era así. Cada vez que Lydia estaba involucrada, Jasper nunca preguntaba quién tenía razón o no. Corría a consolar a Lydia primero, y luego volvía a regañar a Claudia, suave y paciente, como si fuera una niña mimada que simplemente no entendía. Así se sentía amar a alguien desde abajo. No importaba cuánto gritaras, tu ira era solo "graciosa". Nunca seria. ¿Esta propuesta? Nunca había sido una pregunta real. Jasper ya sabía cuál debería haber sido su respuesta. "¡Oh, al diablo con esto, no puedo quedarme callada más tiempo!" Whitney Sawyer golpeó su bolso de mano contra algo, con furia destellando en sus ojos. Había estado aguantándose desde que Quade irrumpió, pero ya era suficiente. "Jasper, ¿eres su novio o su ambulancia personal? ¿Cómo es que cada vez que Lydia sufre 'un accidente', te llama a ti? Siempre perfectamente sincronizado, siempre arruinando tus planes. ¡La última vez fue una cita, ahora es tu propuesta! ¿Qué, no podía esperar a morirse cinco minutos?" Como mejor amiga de Claudia, Whitney había pasado semanas planeando esta propuesta. Y ahora, una vez más, Lydia la había secuestrado, y Jasper había caído directamente en la trampa. La furia de Whitney se extendió como un incendio forestal. "¡Y el resto de ustedes! ¿Para qué corren, a visitarla o a planear su funeral? ¡A este paso, Lydia ya debería haber muerto cien veces!" "¡Whitney!" El rostro de Jasper se ensombreció; el hombre gentil y afable desapareció. Su voz sonó como un latigazo. "Mide tus palabras." "Oh, perdóname." La voz de Whitney subió de tono, aguda y furiosa. "¿No soportas oír criticar a tu preciosa Lydia? Jasper, ¿acaso recuerdas quién es tu novia?" Los ojos de Jasper se helaron. Claudia le agarró el brazo a Whitney, con voz tranquila pero firme. "Si sales por esa puerta, Jasper, terminamos." Ya se había perdido demasiado tiempo. Jasper se pellizcó el puente de la nariz y suspiró. "No digas algo de lo que te arrepentirás. Claudia, hablaremos cuando vuelva." Se dio la vuelta y salió con paso firme, sin mirar atrás. Ni siquiera sabía lo graves que eran las lesiones de Lydia, solo sabía que tenía que ir. Se dijo a sí mismo: Cuando vuelva, lo compensaré. Le haré una propuesta aún mejor. También tomó nota mental de decirle a Claudia que se alejara de Whitney; claramente esa chica le estaba llenando la cabeza de tonterías. La sala se hundió bajo el peso de todo. Incluso aquellos que pensaban que Claudia estaba siendo dramática se mordieron la lengua. Nadie quería contrariar a Jasper, ni a los Sawyer. Uno a uno, se escabulleron. En minutos, el lugar era irreconocible. Pétalos de rosa aplastados y lazos cubrían el suelo. Botellas de vino rodaban bajo las sillas. Glaseado embadurnaba la alfombra. Toda la escena parecía una parodia de lo que había sido, burlándose de lo ridículo que era todo. Mientras los últimos rezagados se quedaban, alguien frunció el ceño. "Esperen… Lydia es la hija adoptiva de los Lancaster, ¿verdad? Oí que es prima de Claudia. ¿Por qué nadie llamó a Claudia también?" "¿Llamarla? ¿Qué, quieren empeorar aún más las lesiones de Lydia?" "Vaya, ¿qué se supone que significa eso?" "Lo de siempre. Que la señorita Lancaster es fría, cruel, desagradecida… ya sabes cómo va." Los susurros comenzaron de nuevo, suaves, venenosos y familiares. Siempre lo hacían cuando el nombre de Lydia salía junto al de Claudia. El rostro de Whitney ardía de ira. Se volvió hacia Claudia, de repente preocupada. Los cotilleos de extraños no importaban, pero ¿la traición de alguien a quien amas? Eso siempre calaba más hondo. Claudia observó la espalda de Jasper mientras se alejaba, cada paso alejándolo más de ella. Era como ver los años escurriéndose entre sus dedos, el chico con el que había crecido desvaneciéndose a lo lejos. Whitney le había preguntado una vez: Si nada hubiera interrumpido esta noche, ¿habrías dicho que sí? Pero, honestamente: No importara cuál fuera su respuesta, el final habría sido el mismo. Lydia nunca la dejaría ganar. Y Jasper nunca la elegiría a ella. En el momento en que le dio la espalda, no se dio cuenta de que, aunque el futuro pueda parecer interminable, la mujer dispuesta a esperarte no dura para siempre. Jasper… esta vez, realmente te dejo ir. En la mesa, entre el desorden, el teléfono de Claudia vibró. Una notificación de WhatsApp apareció, breve y suficiente. "Perdiste." Capítulo 2 Tres días antes, Lydia había acorralado a Claudia. "Sabes que Jasper está a punto de proponerte matrimonio, ¿verdad?" Sus bonitos ojos brillaban, no de emoción, sino de celos y malicia. "Oí que ambas familias querían pasar directamente a la fiesta de compromiso, pero él insistió en hacerlo bien. Dijo que necesitaba oír tu 'sí' él mismo, o no significaría nada. Ayy, qué romántico, ¿no?" "¿Y qué?" Claudia levantó la vista, su tono plano, sin inmutarse. La sonrisa de Lydia se curvó, afilada y venenosa. "¿Y qué? Claudia, ¿qué hace que una pecadora como tú crea que merece felicidad?" Se inclinó más cerca, con voz azucarada pero goteando veneno. "¿Quieres apostar? En tres días, esa propuesta ni siquiera ocurrirá." Claudia solo la miró fijamente. Para todos los demás, Lydia era pura perfección: de voz suave, gentil, toda gracia y luz. Nadie creería que a puerta cerrada podía escupir veneno así. Podría haber detenido la propuesta en cualquier momento que quisiera. Pero no. A Lydia le gustaba el drama. Quería esperar hasta el acto final, para empujar a Claudia fuera del escenario ella misma. Como siempre hacía. … Después de que la propuesta se fuera al traste, el teléfono de Whitney sonó. Una mirada a la identificación de la llamada, y su rostro se demudó. Maldijo entre dientes y salió corriendo. Había planeado dejar a Claudia primero —Claudia había llegado en el coche de Jasper—, pero cuando Claudia se dio cuenta de que algo pasaba con la madre de Whitney, la instó a irse. Cuando todos los demás se habían ido, Claudia se quedó entre los escombros de flores aplastadas y copas de champán, con la cabeza agachada, su expresión ilegible. Dejó escapar una risita amarga. Era tarde. Las calles afuera estaban tranquilas y vacías. Claudia salió del club sin ganas de ir a casa. Vagó junto al río, el frío de la noche calándole la piel. Entonces, se detuvo en seco. Los vellos de su nuca se erizaron: alguien la seguía. Levantó su teléfono, fingiendo tomar una selfie, inclinándolo lo justo para ver el reflejo detrás de ella. Un grupo de hombres, sombras acercándose. Su pulso se disparó. Empezó a caminar más rápido. Ellos también. Su pulgar se cernió sobre su contacto de emergencia —el número que Jasper la había obligado a configurar hacía un año. En aquel entonces, le había roto el brazo a un acosador por molestar a una chica y había terminado en la comisaría. Jasper la sacó bajo fianza, regañándola durante todo el trayecto a casa por ser imprudente. Se había puesto a sí mismo como su contacto de emergencia, haciéndole prometer que si alguna vez estaba en peligro, lo llamaría a él, sin heroísmos, sin orgullo. Había jurado que sin importar dónde o cuándo, iría por ella. Nunca imaginó que la primera vez que llamaría sería así. "¿Claudia?" La voz de Jasper llegó, baja y cansada. Estaba en el hospital. El accidente de Lydia no había sido grave, pero ella era frágil —nacida prematura, se alteraba fácilmente. Solo él podía calmarla. Todo el clan Lancaster estaba acampado fuera. Lydia acababa de quedarse dormida cuando llegó la llamada, despertándola de un salto. "Jasper, alguien me está siguiendo." Silencio. Luego, su voz, fría, desdeñosa. "Claudia, realmente no puedo irme esta noche. No montes una escena." Pensó que estaba mintiendo, intentando alejarlo otra vez del lado de la cama de Lydia. Justo entonces, la madre de Lydia, Lottie Wallace, entró con un vaso de agua. Su rostro suave y elegante se endureció al ver el teléfono en la mano de Jasper. "¡Claudia!", espetó. "Lydia acaba de tener un accidente, y ni siquiera te molestas en visitar. ¿Ahora estás quién sabe dónde, inventando historias? ¿Cuándo vas a crecer? Escucha: nadie se va esta noche. Deja ya tus juegos mezquinos." Colgó sin dudar. En la cama, Lydia yacía pálida y temblorosa. Su voz era pequeña, vacilante. "Mamá, no te enfades. ¿Y si Claudia realmente está en problemas?" Lottie suspiró, la decepción grabada a fuego. "¿Qué problemas podría tener? Esta no es la primera vez que intenta algo cuando tú estás enferma." En la secundaria, Claudia una vez había llamado a casa en medio de la noche, diciendo que la habían secuestrado y exigiendo dinero de rescate. Esa misma noche, Lydia había caído enferma. La familia ya estaba en pánico, y la supuesta llamada de rescate casi le da un infarto a Lottie. Habían corrido a la ubicación, solo para encontrar a Claudia saliendo ilesa, sin un rasguño. Para cuando volvieron a casa, Lydia se había desplomado en el suelo, sola. Era demasiado tarde cuando finalmente la llevaron al hospital. El doctor dijo que con otro retraso, no habría sobrevivido. Esa noche, el padre de Claudia la había golpeado hasta dejarla sangrando. Pasó un mes en el hospital, y nunca se disculpó. La voz de Lottie se suavizó, cargada de decepción. "¿Cuándo se volvió así mi dulce niña?" Jasper conocía cada palabra de esa historia. Incluso había sido él quien llevaba snacks a escondidas a la cama de Claudia en el hospital después, contando chistes estúpidos para hacerla reír. Pero esta noche era diferente. Se dijo a sí mismo que solo estaba haciendo una rabieta por la propuesta arruinada. No tenía energía para sus pataletas. Mañana, cuando se calmara, hablaría con ella, la haría sonreír de nuevo. Colgó, apartó el cabello de la frente de Lydia y susurró: "Se te ha ido la fiebre. Pórtate bien. Duerme." Los ojos de Lydia brillaron con culpa y suavidad. "Jasper, lo siento por esta noche. Es toda mi culpa. Si no fuera tan débil—" "No. Nunca eres una carga." "Jasper…" "Duerme." Sus pestañas aletearon y se cerraron, y una pequeña sonrisa curvó sus labios. Dormiría tranquila esa noche. … Detrás de Claudia, los hombres se acercaban, lentos, perezosos, como gatos jugando con un ratón. Ella siguió corriendo, la voz de Jasper y el regaño de Lottie resonando en su mente. Tal vez había estado decepcionada demasiadas veces, porque ni siquiera se sentía triste ya, solo vacía. Hueca. La noche de abril era cálida, pero cortaba como cristal. La empujaron a un rincón oscuro. Claudia se detuvo bajo un árbol, su expresión calmada, los ojos bajándose al suelo. Entonces, se movió. Quince minutos después, los hombres yacían esparcidos por el pavimento —brazos retorcidos, piernas rotas, gimiendo de dolor. Claudia, sin aliento y sangrando, se dejó caer en el bordillo. Agarró su teléfono con una mano resbaladiza de sangre y marcó al 911. Después de ese lío en octavo grado, había empezado kickboxing y defensa personal. Había aprendido pronto: nadie vendría a salvarla. Uno de los hombres, con el brazo doblado en la dirección incorrecta, empezó a arrastrarse hacia ella. Los ojos de Claudia se posaron sobre él, fríos y afilados. Antes de que pudiera moverse, una bota cayó con fuerza, enviando al tipo volando. Una sombra se cernió sobre ella: un hombre alto con una sonrisa perezosa y el tipo de rostro que podría salirse con la suya cometiendo un asesinato. La miró desde arriba, haciendo un clic suave con la lengua. "Tss. ¿De dónde ha salido esta criaturita?" Capítulo 3 Sterling Romero salió de la Mansión Romero esa noche, lo suficientemente enfadado como para dejar su coche a medio camino a casa y sacar al perro a pasear. Lo que no esperaba era toparse con esa escena. Allí estaba ella, un capullo de rosa hermoso y malherido, acorralado por una jauría de callejeros desaliñados. Parecía frágil, pero la forma en que levantaba la barbilla, los ojos ardiendo de desafío, lo atrajo directamente de vuelta al cachorro de lobo huérfano con el que había vivido en las montañas casi un mes cuando tenía diez años. Todo fanfarronería y dientes al descubierto, guardando su pequeño trozo de tierra. Débil, pero ardiendo de vida. Ese lobo había muerto por sus manos al final. ¿Y esta chica? Era el mismo tipo de criatura: pequeña, espinosa y lista para hacer sangrar a quien intentara hacerle daño. Su rostro ni siquiera se inmutó mientras rompía los brazos de esos matones como si fueran ramitas. Nada la conmovía. Sterling, que rara vez se preocupaba por nada, sintió un destello de interés que no podía sacudirse. En contra de su mejor juicio, intervino. De cerca, era aún más difícil de olvidar. Esos ojos, oscuros, claros, brillantes como una noche después de la lluvia, se engancharon en algo enterrado profundamente dentro de él. Cuando ella levantó la vista, sobresaltada, había un destello de luz estelar que le hizo picar los dedos, con ganas de alargar la mano, de cubrir esos ojos afilados e intrépidos. Bien. Ya había intervenido. Mejor llevarlo hasta el final. Y, honestamente, necesitaba desahogarse. El callejón se llenó de gritos. Hacía un minuto, esos matones solo estaban demasiado heridos para arrastrarse. ¿Ahora? Estaban hechos pedazos: brazos inútiles, piernas rotas, el pánico espeso en el aire. Se arrepentían de todo. El trabajo había sido simple: golpearla un poco, nada grave. Su jefe incluso les había advertido que no dejaran marcas. Pero ella era demasiado hermosa, y unos cuantos se volvieron codiciosos. ¿Quién podría haber imaginado que la belleza delicada pegaba como un demonio, y lo que era peor, que un hombre como él aparecería de la nada? Frío, letal, como la Muerte misma con un abrigo de diseñador. Si el asesinato fuera legal, estaban seguros de que les habría roto el cuello sin pestañear. El cabecilla ya estaba perdiendo la cabeza. Sterling volvió paseando hasta donde la chica yacía observando desde el suelo. Su tono llevaba un rastro de diversión maliciosa. "Eres rápida, pero no lo suficiente despiadada. Si dejas cabos sueltos así, volverán para morderte. Entonces, pequeña callejera, ¿cómo piensas pagarme esta noche?" Claudia, que podría haber manejado la pelea bien por sí sola, y que ahora de alguna manera le debía algo a este extraño, guardó silencio. Tumbada de espaldas, el rostro surcado de sangre y polvo, de alguna manera parecía irreal en la oscuridad. Sterling frunció el ceño. Sucio. Se inclinó para levantar a la silenciosa rosa a sus pies, entonces algo lo empujó con fuerza. Tropezó, perdió el equilibrio y cayó justo encima de ella. Su peso aplastó su brazo herido; su mano izquierda aterrizó sobre algo más suave. Sus dedos se tensaron y apretaron antes de que su cerebro reaccionara. Se quedó helado. Ella también. Sus ojos se encontraron, muy abiertos en mutua conmoción. A unos metros de distancia, el perro pastor culpable se sentó parpadeando, como diciendo: Por favor, no me vean. Inmovilizada bajo un extraño, con todo dolorido, Claudia respiró hondo y tembloroso. Guapo o no, un grupo seguía siendo un grupo. Su expresión calmada se volvió feroz. Sterling oyó las primeras palabras de la rosa para él esa noche. "¿Nadie te dijo nunca?" "¿Decirme qué?" "Que no metas la nariz en los asuntos de otros." Antes de que la última palabra se desvaneciera, le rodeó el cuello con los brazos y lo tiró hacia abajo. Sus frentes chocaron con un crujido. El dolor se disparó. "¡Agente! ¡Por aquí!" Su voz sonó clara. Segundos después, las sirenas partieron la noche. Los policías vinieron corriendo. Sterling, al darse cuenta de que acababa de ser utilizado, dejó escapar una risa baja e incrédula. "¿Así tratas a tu salvador?" Terminó tumbado exactamente donde ella había estado, su voz goteando sarcasmo. Claudia se puso de pie, medio en sombras, y le dedicó una sonrisa delgada. "Obviamente. Soy la villana desagradecida, ¿recuerdas?" … Esa noche, el chico de oro de Liberty City, el heredero de Romero Corporation, fue llevado a la comisaría. Clint apareció rápido con un abogado, echando miradas furtivas a la chica que despertó la rara misericordia del Segador… y luego lo denunció por acoso. ¿Valiente, verdad? Era hermosa, y claramente no le temía a nada. Una vez que los matones fueron registrados, Clint se preparó, esperando a que Sterling dijera la palabra: Encárgate de ella. En cambio, Sterling dijo: "Averigua quién es." "¿Quién?" La palabra se le escapó antes de que Clint pudiera detenerse. Sterling nunca mostraba interés en ninguna mujer. La sola idea daba miedo. La mirada de Sterling se clavó en él, lo suficientemente afilada para hacerlo callar. "Sí, señor", murmuró Clint rápidamente. Mirando a la chica alejarse a zancadas después de lanzar una última mirada ardiente por encima del hombro, Clint sintió una punzada de lástima. Eso era todo. Ella y toda su familia estaban acabadas. … Ajena a la tormenta que acababa de desatar, Claudia se arrastró a casa al amanecer, perseguida por una ráfaga de llamadas. Su padre, Wilson Lancaster, la recibió en la puerta con una bofetada sonora. "¿Cómo he criado a una hija como tú?" No esquivó a tiempo. Su mejilla pálida enrojeció e hinchó. La habitación se quedó helada. Jasper frunció el ceño, con dolor destellando en sus ojos. Se obligó a no intervenir. Claudia había cruzado la línea esta vez; si no aprendía, quién sabía qué caos provocaría después. Aun así… Wilson había golpeado demasiado fuerte. La visión le retorció algo en el pecho. Lottie, Clarence y Zane llevaban la misma expresión enfadada y decepcionada. En el sofá, los ojos de Lydia brillaban con una alegría mal disimulada. Había estado furiosa la noche anterior porque los cretinos que contrató habían metido la pata y terminado en la comisaría. Por suerte, había cubierto sus huellas. Habían afirmado que fue solo un agarre "en un momento de arrebato", y como no pasó nada grave, no había nada que la vinculara a ella. Había sido dada de alta esa mañana y soltó el cebo que tenía preparado desde hacía tiempo. Los Lancaster se lo tragaron entero. Después de desaparecer toda la noche, nadie preguntó dónde había estado Claudia, ni notó sus heridas. La recibieron con una bofetada. Esa era su familia. Claudia no discutió. Caminó directamente hacia la pequeña Lydia, presumida y satisfecha.
Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now.Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now. Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia Capítulo 1 ¡Bum! Las puertas de la sala del evento se abrieron de golpe. "¡Algo le ha pasado a Lydia!", gritó un hombre al entrar tambaleándose, con el pánico pintado en el rostro. Las palabras impactaron como una bomba. La sala —decorada con flores, lazos y música romántica, bullendo de emoción por la propuesta— quedó instantáneamente en silencio. El hombre en el centro de atención, aún de rodillas, con el anillo en la mano, se giró sobresaltado. "¿Qué acabas de decir?" Quade Zimmer, con su pelo teñido de azul tan estridente como su voz, soltó: "¡La señora Lancaster acaba de llamar! ¡Lydia ha tenido un accidente de coche! ¡Está en el hospital ahora mismo!" Apenas habían salido las palabras de su boca cuando estalló el caos: sillas arrastrándose, tacones repiqueteando, gente apresurándose hacia la puerta. No era una exageración decir que Lydia Wallace era la chica de moda de su círculo: hermosa, talentosa, frágil de esa forma desgarradora que hacía que la gente quisiera protegerla. Todos la adoraban, la compadecían, la veneraban. ¿Y ahora que su diosa estaba herida? A nadie le quedaba corazón para seguir celebrando una propuesta de matrimonio cuya respuesta todos ya conocían. Incluso el chico que proponía lo dejó todo y salió corriendo. "Jasper—" La voz que pronunció su nombre llegó por detrás —suave, apenas más que un suspiro. Fue entonces cuando todos finalmente se dieron cuenta: la mujer a la que le estaban pidiendo matrimonio no había dicho ni una palabra en todo este tiempo. Alguien debió de haber dado a los interruptores en el caos, porque la sala se oscureció. La única luz provenía de las suaves lámparas de la pared. En un rincón, mitad en sombras, mitad en luz, estaba Claudia Lancaster. Su belleza no era del tipo dulce y gentil —era marcada, impactante, inolvidable. Pero en ese momento, su calma resultaba inquietante. Su expresión no revelaba nada. "¿No quieres oír mi respuesta?", preguntó en voz baja. Hacía apenas un minuto, Jasper Fenton le había pedido que se casara con él. Ahora, a medio camino de la puerta, se detuvo en seco. Ni siquiera intentó explicarse. "Claudia, lo siento. Tengo que ir al hospital. Vete a casa primero, ¿vale?" "¿Y si no te dejo ir?" Su voz se mantuvo firme. "Jasper, sabes que la odio." Jasper suspiró, exasperado. "Claudia, ahora no. No es momento para empezar una pelea." "Mi respuesta… puede que solo la obtengas una vez", dijo, tan calmada como siempre. Algo en su tono le hizo hacer una pausa. Normalmente, en cuanto salía el nombre de Lydia, Claudia estallaba —espetando, poniendo los ojos en blanco, maldiciendo a Lydia entre dientes. Pero esta noche, estaba fría, distante. Casi como si lo hubiera estado esperando. Un destello de inquietud le recorrió la espalda a Jasper. "Oh, por favor", intervino Quade, poniendo los ojos en blanco. "Has estado obsesionada con Jasper desde, ¿qué, la secundaria? El tipo finalmente te propone matrimonio y ¿se supone que debemos creer que dirías que no?" "Sí, alguien podría estar muriéndose en serio. Te pueden proponer matrimonio cualquier otro día", añadió alguien más. "¡Exacto! Las familias arreglaron esto hace siglos, toda esta cosa es solo por apariencias." Los comentarios dolían, pero Claudia ni siquiera parpadeó. Sus ojos oscuros permanecieron clavados en Jasper. Esperando. Jasper dejó escapar otro suspiro y volvió hacia ella. Como siempre, le despeinó el cabello como si fuera una niña. "Pórtate bien, ¿vale? No montes una escena. Lydia podría estar gravemente herida. Este no es el momento para una rabieta." Siempre era así. Cada vez que Lydia estaba involucrada, Jasper nunca preguntaba quién tenía razón o no. Corría a consolar a Lydia primero, y luego volvía a regañar a Claudia, suave y paciente, como si fuera una niña mimada que simplemente no entendía. Así se sentía amar a alguien desde abajo. No importaba cuánto gritaras, tu ira era solo "graciosa". Nunca seria. ¿Esta propuesta? Nunca había sido una pregunta real. Jasper ya sabía cuál debería haber sido su respuesta. "¡Oh, al diablo con esto, no puedo quedarme callada más tiempo!" Whitney Sawyer golpeó su bolso de mano contra algo, con furia destellando en sus ojos. Había estado aguantándose desde que Quade irrumpió, pero ya era suficiente. "Jasper, ¿eres su novio o su ambulancia personal? ¿Cómo es que cada vez que Lydia sufre 'un accidente', te llama a ti? Siempre perfectamente sincronizado, siempre arruinando tus planes. ¡La última vez fue una cita, ahora es tu propuesta! ¿Qué, no podía esperar a morirse cinco minutos?" Como mejor amiga de Claudia, Whitney había pasado semanas planeando esta propuesta. Y ahora, una vez más, Lydia la había secuestrado, y Jasper había caído directamente en la trampa. La furia de Whitney se extendió como un incendio forestal. "¡Y el resto de ustedes! ¿Para qué corren, a visitarla o a planear su funeral? ¡A este paso, Lydia ya debería haber muerto cien veces!" "¡Whitney!" El rostro de Jasper se ensombreció; el hombre gentil y afable desapareció. Su voz sonó como un latigazo. "Mide tus palabras." "Oh, perdóname." La voz de Whitney subió de tono, aguda y furiosa. "¿No soportas oír criticar a tu preciosa Lydia? Jasper, ¿acaso recuerdas quién es tu novia?" Los ojos de Jasper se helaron. Claudia le agarró el brazo a Whitney, con voz tranquila pero firme. "Si sales por esa puerta, Jasper, terminamos." Ya se había perdido demasiado tiempo. Jasper se pellizcó el puente de la nariz y suspiró. "No digas algo de lo que te arrepentirás. Claudia, hablaremos cuando vuelva." Se dio la vuelta y salió con paso firme, sin mirar atrás. Ni siquiera sabía lo graves que eran las lesiones de Lydia, solo sabía que tenía que ir. Se dijo a sí mismo: Cuando vuelva, lo compensaré. Le haré una propuesta aún mejor. También tomó nota mental de decirle a Claudia que se alejara de Whitney; claramente esa chica le estaba llenando la cabeza de tonterías. La sala se hundió bajo el peso de todo. Incluso aquellos que pensaban que Claudia estaba siendo dramática se mordieron la lengua. Nadie quería contrariar a Jasper, ni a los Sawyer. Uno a uno, se escabulleron. En minutos, el lugar era irreconocible. Pétalos de rosa aplastados y lazos cubrían el suelo. Botellas de vino rodaban bajo las sillas. Glaseado embadurnaba la alfombra. Toda la escena parecía una parodia de lo que había sido, burlándose de lo ridículo que era todo. Mientras los últimos rezagados se quedaban, alguien frunció el ceño. "Esperen… Lydia es la hija adoptiva de los Lancaster, ¿verdad? Oí que es prima de Claudia. ¿Por qué nadie llamó a Claudia también?" "¿Llamarla? ¿Qué, quieren empeorar aún más las lesiones de Lydia?" "Vaya, ¿qué se supone que significa eso?" "Lo de siempre. Que la señorita Lancaster es fría, cruel, desagradecida… ya sabes cómo va." Los susurros comenzaron de nuevo, suaves, venenosos y familiares. Siempre lo hacían cuando el nombre de Lydia salía junto al de Claudia. El rostro de Whitney ardía de ira. Se volvió hacia Claudia, de repente preocupada. Los cotilleos de extraños no importaban, pero ¿la traición de alguien a quien amas? Eso siempre calaba más hondo. Claudia observó la espalda de Jasper mientras se alejaba, cada paso alejándolo más de ella. Era como ver los años escurriéndose entre sus dedos, el chico con el que había crecido desvaneciéndose a lo lejos. Whitney le había preguntado una vez: Si nada hubiera interrumpido esta noche, ¿habrías dicho que sí? Pero, honestamente: No importara cuál fuera su respuesta, el final habría sido el mismo. Lydia nunca la dejaría ganar. Y Jasper nunca la elegiría a ella. En el momento en que le dio la espalda, no se dio cuenta de que, aunque el futuro pueda parecer interminable, la mujer dispuesta a esperarte no dura para siempre. Jasper… esta vez, realmente te dejo ir. En la mesa, entre el desorden, el teléfono de Claudia vibró. Una notificación de WhatsApp apareció, breve y suficiente. "Perdiste." Capítulo 2 Tres días antes, Lydia había acorralado a Claudia. "Sabes que Jasper está a punto de proponerte matrimonio, ¿verdad?" Sus bonitos ojos brillaban, no de emoción, sino de celos y malicia. "Oí que ambas familias querían pasar directamente a la fiesta de compromiso, pero él insistió en hacerlo bien. Dijo que necesitaba oír tu 'sí' él mismo, o no significaría nada. Ayy, qué romántico, ¿no?" "¿Y qué?" Claudia levantó la vista, su tono plano, sin inmutarse. La sonrisa de Lydia se curvó, afilada y venenosa. "¿Y qué? Claudia, ¿qué hace que una pecadora como tú crea que merece felicidad?" Se inclinó más cerca, con voz azucarada pero goteando veneno. "¿Quieres apostar? En tres días, esa propuesta ni siquiera ocurrirá." Claudia solo la miró fijamente. Para todos los demás, Lydia era pura perfección: de voz suave, gentil, toda gracia y luz. Nadie creería que a puerta cerrada podía escupir veneno así. Podría haber detenido la propuesta en cualquier momento que quisiera. Pero no. A Lydia le gustaba el drama. Quería esperar hasta el acto final, para empujar a Claudia fuera del escenario ella misma. Como siempre hacía. … Después de que la propuesta se fuera al traste, el teléfono de Whitney sonó. Una mirada a la identificación de la llamada, y su rostro se demudó. Maldijo entre dientes y salió corriendo. Había planeado dejar a Claudia primero —Claudia había llegado en el coche de Jasper—, pero cuando Claudia se dio cuenta de que algo pasaba con la madre de Whitney, la instó a irse. Cuando todos los demás se habían ido, Claudia se quedó entre los escombros de flores aplastadas y copas de champán, con la cabeza agachada, su expresión ilegible. Dejó escapar una risita amarga. Era tarde. Las calles afuera estaban tranquilas y vacías. Claudia salió del club sin ganas de ir a casa. Vagó junto al río, el frío de la noche calándole la piel. Entonces, se detuvo en seco. Los vellos de su nuca se erizaron: alguien la seguía. Levantó su teléfono, fingiendo tomar una selfie, inclinándolo lo justo para ver el reflejo detrás de ella. Un grupo de hombres, sombras acercándose. Su pulso se disparó. Empezó a caminar más rápido. Ellos también. Su pulgar se cernió sobre su contacto de emergencia —el número que Jasper la había obligado a configurar hacía un año. En aquel entonces, le había roto el brazo a un acosador por molestar a una chica y había terminado en la comisaría. Jasper la sacó bajo fianza, regañándola durante todo el trayecto a casa por ser imprudente. Se había puesto a sí mismo como su contacto de emergencia, haciéndole prometer que si alguna vez estaba en peligro, lo llamaría a él, sin heroísmos, sin orgullo. Había jurado que sin importar dónde o cuándo, iría por ella. Nunca imaginó que la primera vez que llamaría sería así. "¿Claudia?" La voz de Jasper llegó, baja y cansada. Estaba en el hospital. El accidente de Lydia no había sido grave, pero ella era frágil —nacida prematura, se alteraba fácilmente. Solo él podía calmarla. Todo el clan Lancaster estaba acampado fuera. Lydia acababa de quedarse dormida cuando llegó la llamada, despertándola de un salto. "Jasper, alguien me está siguiendo." Silencio. Luego, su voz, fría, desdeñosa. "Claudia, realmente no puedo irme esta noche. No montes una escena." Pensó que estaba mintiendo, intentando alejarlo otra vez del lado de la cama de Lydia. Justo entonces, la madre de Lydia, Lottie Wallace, entró con un vaso de agua. Su rostro suave y elegante se endureció al ver el teléfono en la mano de Jasper. "¡Claudia!", espetó. "Lydia acaba de tener un accidente, y ni siquiera te molestas en visitar. ¿Ahora estás quién sabe dónde, inventando historias? ¿Cuándo vas a crecer? Escucha: nadie se va esta noche. Deja ya tus juegos mezquinos." Colgó sin dudar. En la cama, Lydia yacía pálida y temblorosa. Su voz era pequeña, vacilante. "Mamá, no te enfades. ¿Y si Claudia realmente está en problemas?" Lottie suspiró, la decepción grabada a fuego. "¿Qué problemas podría tener? Esta no es la primera vez que intenta algo cuando tú estás enferma." En la secundaria, Claudia una vez había llamado a casa en medio de la noche, diciendo que la habían secuestrado y exigiendo dinero de rescate. Esa misma noche, Lydia había caído enferma. La familia ya estaba en pánico, y la supuesta llamada de rescate casi le da un infarto a Lottie. Habían corrido a la ubicación, solo para encontrar a Claudia saliendo ilesa, sin un rasguño. Para cuando volvieron a casa, Lydia se había desplomado en el suelo, sola. Era demasiado tarde cuando finalmente la llevaron al hospital. El doctor dijo que con otro retraso, no habría sobrevivido. Esa noche, el padre de Claudia la había golpeado hasta dejarla sangrando. Pasó un mes en el hospital, y nunca se disculpó. La voz de Lottie se suavizó, cargada de decepción. "¿Cuándo se volvió así mi dulce niña?" Jasper conocía cada palabra de esa historia. Incluso había sido él quien llevaba snacks a escondidas a la cama de Claudia en el hospital después, contando chistes estúpidos para hacerla reír. Pero esta noche era diferente. Se dijo a sí mismo que solo estaba haciendo una rabieta por la propuesta arruinada. No tenía energía para sus pataletas. Mañana, cuando se calmara, hablaría con ella, la haría sonreír de nuevo. Colgó, apartó el cabello de la frente de Lydia y susurró: "Se te ha ido la fiebre. Pórtate bien. Duerme." Los ojos de Lydia brillaron con culpa y suavidad. "Jasper, lo siento por esta noche. Es toda mi culpa. Si no fuera tan débil—" "No. Nunca eres una carga." "Jasper…" "Duerme." Sus pestañas aletearon y se cerraron, y una pequeña sonrisa curvó sus labios. Dormiría tranquila esa noche. … Detrás de Claudia, los hombres se acercaban, lentos, perezosos, como gatos jugando con un ratón. Ella siguió corriendo, la voz de Jasper y el regaño de Lottie resonando en su mente. Tal vez había estado decepcionada demasiadas veces, porque ni siquiera se sentía triste ya, solo vacía. Hueca. La noche de abril era cálida, pero cortaba como cristal. La empujaron a un rincón oscuro. Claudia se detuvo bajo un árbol, su expresión calmada, los ojos bajándose al suelo. Entonces, se movió. Quince minutos después, los hombres yacían esparcidos por el pavimento —brazos retorcidos, piernas rotas, gimiendo de dolor. Claudia, sin aliento y sangrando, se dejó caer en el bordillo. Agarró su teléfono con una mano resbaladiza de sangre y marcó al 911. Después de ese lío en octavo grado, había empezado kickboxing y defensa personal. Había aprendido pronto: nadie vendría a salvarla. Uno de los hombres, con el brazo doblado en la dirección incorrecta, empezó a arrastrarse hacia ella. Los ojos de Claudia se posaron sobre él, fríos y afilados. Antes de que pudiera moverse, una bota cayó con fuerza, enviando al tipo volando. Una sombra se cernió sobre ella: un hombre alto con una sonrisa perezosa y el tipo de rostro que podría salirse con la suya cometiendo un asesinato. La miró desde arriba, haciendo un clic suave con la lengua. "Tss. ¿De dónde ha salido esta criaturita?" Capítulo 3 Sterling Romero salió de la Mansión Romero esa noche, lo suficientemente enfadado como para dejar su coche a medio camino a casa y sacar al perro a pasear. Lo que no esperaba era toparse con esa escena. Allí estaba ella, un capullo de rosa hermoso y malherido, acorralado por una jauría de callejeros desaliñados. Parecía frágil, pero la forma en que levantaba la barbilla, los ojos ardiendo de desafío, lo atrajo directamente de vuelta al cachorro de lobo huérfano con el que había vivido en las montañas casi un mes cuando tenía diez años. Todo fanfarronería y dientes al descubierto, guardando su pequeño trozo de tierra. Débil, pero ardiendo de vida. Ese lobo había muerto por sus manos al final. ¿Y esta chica? Era el mismo tipo de criatura: pequeña, espinosa y lista para hacer sangrar a quien intentara hacerle daño. Su rostro ni siquiera se inmutó mientras rompía los brazos de esos matones como si fueran ramitas. Nada la conmovía. Sterling, que rara vez se preocupaba por nada, sintió un destello de interés que no podía sacudirse. En contra de su mejor juicio, intervino. De cerca, era aún más difícil de olvidar. Esos ojos, oscuros, claros, brillantes como una noche después de la lluvia, se engancharon en algo enterrado profundamente dentro de él. Cuando ella levantó la vista, sobresaltada, había un destello de luz estelar que le hizo picar los dedos, con ganas de alargar la mano, de cubrir esos ojos afilados e intrépidos. Bien. Ya había intervenido. Mejor llevarlo hasta el final. Y, honestamente, necesitaba desahogarse. El callejón se llenó de gritos. Hacía un minuto, esos matones solo estaban demasiado heridos para arrastrarse. ¿Ahora? Estaban hechos pedazos: brazos inútiles, piernas rotas, el pánico espeso en el aire. Se arrepentían de todo. El trabajo había sido simple: golpearla un poco, nada grave. Su jefe incluso les había advertido que no dejaran marcas. Pero ella era demasiado hermosa, y unos cuantos se volvieron codiciosos. ¿Quién podría haber imaginado que la belleza delicada pegaba como un demonio, y lo que era peor, que un hombre como él aparecería de la nada? Frío, letal, como la Muerte misma con un abrigo de diseñador. Si el asesinato fuera legal, estaban seguros de que les habría roto el cuello sin pestañear. El cabecilla ya estaba perdiendo la cabeza. Sterling volvió paseando hasta donde la chica yacía observando desde el suelo. Su tono llevaba un rastro de diversión maliciosa. "Eres rápida, pero no lo suficiente despiadada. Si dejas cabos sueltos así, volverán para morderte. Entonces, pequeña callejera, ¿cómo piensas pagarme esta noche?" Claudia, que podría haber manejado la pelea bien por sí sola, y que ahora de alguna manera le debía algo a este extraño, guardó silencio. Tumbada de espaldas, el rostro surcado de sangre y polvo, de alguna manera parecía irreal en la oscuridad. Sterling frunció el ceño. Sucio. Se inclinó para levantar a la silenciosa rosa a sus pies, entonces algo lo empujó con fuerza. Tropezó, perdió el equilibrio y cayó justo encima de ella. Su peso aplastó su brazo herido; su mano izquierda aterrizó sobre algo más suave. Sus dedos se tensaron y apretaron antes de que su cerebro reaccionara. Se quedó helado. Ella también. Sus ojos se encontraron, muy abiertos en mutua conmoción. A unos metros de distancia, el perro pastor culpable se sentó parpadeando, como diciendo: Por favor, no me vean. Inmovilizada bajo un extraño, con todo dolorido, Claudia respiró hondo y tembloroso. Guapo o no, un grupo seguía siendo un grupo. Su expresión calmada se volvió feroz. Sterling oyó las primeras palabras de la rosa para él esa noche. "¿Nadie te dijo nunca?" "¿Decirme qué?" "Que no metas la nariz en los asuntos de otros." Antes de que la última palabra se desvaneciera, le rodeó el cuello con los brazos y lo tiró hacia abajo. Sus frentes chocaron con un crujido. El dolor se disparó. "¡Agente! ¡Por aquí!" Su voz sonó clara. Segundos después, las sirenas partieron la noche. Los policías vinieron corriendo. Sterling, al darse cuenta de que acababa de ser utilizado, dejó escapar una risa baja e incrédula. "¿Así tratas a tu salvador?" Terminó tumbado exactamente donde ella había estado, su voz goteando sarcasmo. Claudia se puso de pie, medio en sombras, y le dedicó una sonrisa delgada. "Obviamente. Soy la villana desagradecida, ¿recuerdas?" … Esa noche, el chico de oro de Liberty City, el heredero de Romero Corporation, fue llevado a la comisaría. Clint apareció rápido con un abogado, echando miradas furtivas a la chica que despertó la rara misericordia del Segador… y luego lo denunció por acoso. ¿Valiente, verdad? Era hermosa, y claramente no le temía a nada. Una vez que los matones fueron registrados, Clint se preparó, esperando a que Sterling dijera la palabra: Encárgate de ella. En cambio, Sterling dijo: "Averigua quién es." "¿Quién?" La palabra se le escapó antes de que Clint pudiera detenerse. Sterling nunca mostraba interés en ninguna mujer. La sola idea daba miedo. La mirada de Sterling se clavó en él, lo suficientemente afilada para hacerlo callar. "Sí, señor", murmuró Clint rápidamente. Mirando a la chica alejarse a zancadas después de lanzar una última mirada ardiente por encima del hombro, Clint sintió una punzada de lástima. Eso era todo. Ella y toda su familia estaban acabadas. … Ajena a la tormenta que acababa de desatar, Claudia se arrastró a casa al amanecer, perseguida por una ráfaga de llamadas. Su padre, Wilson Lancaster, la recibió en la puerta con una bofetada sonora. "¿Cómo he criado a una hija como tú?" No esquivó a tiempo. Su mejilla pálida enrojeció e hinchó. La habitación se quedó helada. Jasper frunció el ceño, con dolor destellando en sus ojos. Se obligó a no intervenir. Claudia había cruzado la línea esta vez; si no aprendía, quién sabía qué caos provocaría después. Aun así… Wilson había golpeado demasiado fuerte. La visión le retorció algo en el pecho. Lottie, Clarence y Zane llevaban la misma expresión enfadada y decepcionada. En el sofá, los ojos de Lydia brillaban con una alegría mal disimulada. Había estado furiosa la noche anterior porque los cretinos que contrató habían metido la pata y terminado en la comisaría. Por suerte, había cubierto sus huellas. Habían afirmado que fue solo un agarre "en un momento de arrebato", y como no pasó nada grave, no había nada que la vinculara a ella. Había sido dada de alta esa mañana y soltó el cebo que tenía preparado desde hacía tiempo. Los Lancaster se lo tragaron entero. Después de desaparecer toda la noche, nadie preguntó dónde había estado Claudia, ni notó sus heridas. La recibieron con una bofetada. Esa era su familia. Claudia no discutió. Caminó directamente hacia la pequeña Lydia, presumida y satisfecha.
Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now.Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now. Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia Capítulo 1 ¡Bum! Las puertas de la sala del evento se abrieron de golpe. "¡Algo le ha pasado a Lydia!", gritó un hombre al entrar tambaleándose, con el pánico pintado en el rostro. Las palabras impactaron como una bomba. La sala —decorada con flores, lazos y música romántica, bullendo de emoción por la propuesta— quedó instantáneamente en silencio. El hombre en el centro de atención, aún de rodillas, con el anillo en la mano, se giró sobresaltado. "¿Qué acabas de decir?" Quade Zimmer, con su pelo teñido de azul tan estridente como su voz, soltó: "¡La señora Lancaster acaba de llamar! ¡Lydia ha tenido un accidente de coche! ¡Está en el hospital ahora mismo!" Apenas habían salido las palabras de su boca cuando estalló el caos: sillas arrastrándose, tacones repiqueteando, gente apresurándose hacia la puerta. No era una exageración decir que Lydia Wallace era la chica de moda de su círculo: hermosa, talentosa, frágil de esa forma desgarradora que hacía que la gente quisiera protegerla. Todos la adoraban, la compadecían, la veneraban. ¿Y ahora que su diosa estaba herida? A nadie le quedaba corazón para seguir celebrando una propuesta de matrimonio cuya respuesta todos ya conocían. Incluso el chico que proponía lo dejó todo y salió corriendo. "Jasper—" La voz que pronunció su nombre llegó por detrás —suave, apenas más que un suspiro. Fue entonces cuando todos finalmente se dieron cuenta: la mujer a la que le estaban pidiendo matrimonio no había dicho ni una palabra en todo este tiempo. Alguien debió de haber dado a los interruptores en el caos, porque la sala se oscureció. La única luz provenía de las suaves lámparas de la pared. En un rincón, mitad en sombras, mitad en luz, estaba Claudia Lancaster. Su belleza no era del tipo dulce y gentil —era marcada, impactante, inolvidable. Pero en ese momento, su calma resultaba inquietante. Su expresión no revelaba nada. "¿No quieres oír mi respuesta?", preguntó en voz baja. Hacía apenas un minuto, Jasper Fenton le había pedido que se casara con él. Ahora, a medio camino de la puerta, se detuvo en seco. Ni siquiera intentó explicarse. "Claudia, lo siento. Tengo que ir al hospital. Vete a casa primero, ¿vale?" "¿Y si no te dejo ir?" Su voz se mantuvo firme. "Jasper, sabes que la odio." Jasper suspiró, exasperado. "Claudia, ahora no. No es momento para empezar una pelea." "Mi respuesta… puede que solo la obtengas una vez", dijo, tan calmada como siempre. Algo en su tono le hizo hacer una pausa. Normalmente, en cuanto salía el nombre de Lydia, Claudia estallaba —espetando, poniendo los ojos en blanco, maldiciendo a Lydia entre dientes. Pero esta noche, estaba fría, distante. Casi como si lo hubiera estado esperando. Un destello de inquietud le recorrió la espalda a Jasper. "Oh, por favor", intervino Quade, poniendo los ojos en blanco. "Has estado obsesionada con Jasper desde, ¿qué, la secundaria? El tipo finalmente te propone matrimonio y ¿se supone que debemos creer que dirías que no?" "Sí, alguien podría estar muriéndose en serio. Te pueden proponer matrimonio cualquier otro día", añadió alguien más. "¡Exacto! Las familias arreglaron esto hace siglos, toda esta cosa es solo por apariencias." Los comentarios dolían, pero Claudia ni siquiera parpadeó. Sus ojos oscuros permanecieron clavados en Jasper. Esperando. Jasper dejó escapar otro suspiro y volvió hacia ella. Como siempre, le despeinó el cabello como si fuera una niña. "Pórtate bien, ¿vale? No montes una escena. Lydia podría estar gravemente herida. Este no es el momento para una rabieta." Siempre era así. Cada vez que Lydia estaba involucrada, Jasper nunca preguntaba quién tenía razón o no. Corría a consolar a Lydia primero, y luego volvía a regañar a Claudia, suave y paciente, como si fuera una niña mimada que simplemente no entendía. Así se sentía amar a alguien desde abajo. No importaba cuánto gritaras, tu ira era solo "graciosa". Nunca seria. ¿Esta propuesta? Nunca había sido una pregunta real. Jasper ya sabía cuál debería haber sido su respuesta. "¡Oh, al diablo con esto, no puedo quedarme callada más tiempo!" Whitney Sawyer golpeó su bolso de mano contra algo, con furia destellando en sus ojos. Había estado aguantándose desde que Quade irrumpió, pero ya era suficiente. "Jasper, ¿eres su novio o su ambulancia personal? ¿Cómo es que cada vez que Lydia sufre 'un accidente', te llama a ti? Siempre perfectamente sincronizado, siempre arruinando tus planes. ¡La última vez fue una cita, ahora es tu propuesta! ¿Qué, no podía esperar a morirse cinco minutos?" Como mejor amiga de Claudia, Whitney había pasado semanas planeando esta propuesta. Y ahora, una vez más, Lydia la había secuestrado, y Jasper había caído directamente en la trampa. La furia de Whitney se extendió como un incendio forestal. "¡Y el resto de ustedes! ¿Para qué corren, a visitarla o a planear su funeral? ¡A este paso, Lydia ya debería haber muerto cien veces!" "¡Whitney!" El rostro de Jasper se ensombreció; el hombre gentil y afable desapareció. Su voz sonó como un latigazo. "Mide tus palabras." "Oh, perdóname." La voz de Whitney subió de tono, aguda y furiosa. "¿No soportas oír criticar a tu preciosa Lydia? Jasper, ¿acaso recuerdas quién es tu novia?" Los ojos de Jasper se helaron. Claudia le agarró el brazo a Whitney, con voz tranquila pero firme. "Si sales por esa puerta, Jasper, terminamos." Ya se había perdido demasiado tiempo. Jasper se pellizcó el puente de la nariz y suspiró. "No digas algo de lo que te arrepentirás. Claudia, hablaremos cuando vuelva." Se dio la vuelta y salió con paso firme, sin mirar atrás. Ni siquiera sabía lo graves que eran las lesiones de Lydia, solo sabía que tenía que ir. Se dijo a sí mismo: Cuando vuelva, lo compensaré. Le haré una propuesta aún mejor. También tomó nota mental de decirle a Claudia que se alejara de Whitney; claramente esa chica le estaba llenando la cabeza de tonterías. La sala se hundió bajo el peso de todo. Incluso aquellos que pensaban que Claudia estaba siendo dramática se mordieron la lengua. Nadie quería contrariar a Jasper, ni a los Sawyer. Uno a uno, se escabulleron. En minutos, el lugar era irreconocible. Pétalos de rosa aplastados y lazos cubrían el suelo. Botellas de vino rodaban bajo las sillas. Glaseado embadurnaba la alfombra. Toda la escena parecía una parodia de lo que había sido, burlándose de lo ridículo que era todo. Mientras los últimos rezagados se quedaban, alguien frunció el ceño. "Esperen… Lydia es la hija adoptiva de los Lancaster, ¿verdad? Oí que es prima de Claudia. ¿Por qué nadie llamó a Claudia también?" "¿Llamarla? ¿Qué, quieren empeorar aún más las lesiones de Lydia?" "Vaya, ¿qué se supone que significa eso?" "Lo de siempre. Que la señorita Lancaster es fría, cruel, desagradecida… ya sabes cómo va." Los susurros comenzaron de nuevo, suaves, venenosos y familiares. Siempre lo hacían cuando el nombre de Lydia salía junto al de Claudia. El rostro de Whitney ardía de ira. Se volvió hacia Claudia, de repente preocupada. Los cotilleos de extraños no importaban, pero ¿la traición de alguien a quien amas? Eso siempre calaba más hondo. Claudia observó la espalda de Jasper mientras se alejaba, cada paso alejándolo más de ella. Era como ver los años escurriéndose entre sus dedos, el chico con el que había crecido desvaneciéndose a lo lejos. Whitney le había preguntado una vez: Si nada hubiera interrumpido esta noche, ¿habrías dicho que sí? Pero, honestamente: No importara cuál fuera su respuesta, el final habría sido el mismo. Lydia nunca la dejaría ganar. Y Jasper nunca la elegiría a ella. En el momento en que le dio la espalda, no se dio cuenta de que, aunque el futuro pueda parecer interminable, la mujer dispuesta a esperarte no dura para siempre. Jasper… esta vez, realmente te dejo ir. En la mesa, entre el desorden, el teléfono de Claudia vibró. Una notificación de WhatsApp apareció, breve y suficiente. "Perdiste." Capítulo 2 Tres días antes, Lydia había acorralado a Claudia. "Sabes que Jasper está a punto de proponerte matrimonio, ¿verdad?" Sus bonitos ojos brillaban, no de emoción, sino de celos y malicia. "Oí que ambas familias querían pasar directamente a la fiesta de compromiso, pero él insistió en hacerlo bien. Dijo que necesitaba oír tu 'sí' él mismo, o no significaría nada. Ayy, qué romántico, ¿no?" "¿Y qué?" Claudia levantó la vista, su tono plano, sin inmutarse. La sonrisa de Lydia se curvó, afilada y venenosa. "¿Y qué? Claudia, ¿qué hace que una pecadora como tú crea que merece felicidad?" Se inclinó más cerca, con voz azucarada pero goteando veneno. "¿Quieres apostar? En tres días, esa propuesta ni siquiera ocurrirá." Claudia solo la miró fijamente. Para todos los demás, Lydia era pura perfección: de voz suave, gentil, toda gracia y luz. Nadie creería que a puerta cerrada podía escupir veneno así. Podría haber detenido la propuesta en cualquier momento que quisiera. Pero no. A Lydia le gustaba el drama. Quería esperar hasta el acto final, para empujar a Claudia fuera del escenario ella misma. Como siempre hacía. … Después de que la propuesta se fuera al traste, el teléfono de Whitney sonó. Una mirada a la identificación de la llamada, y su rostro se demudó. Maldijo entre dientes y salió corriendo. Había planeado dejar a Claudia primero —Claudia había llegado en el coche de Jasper—, pero cuando Claudia se dio cuenta de que algo pasaba con la madre de Whitney, la instó a irse. Cuando todos los demás se habían ido, Claudia se quedó entre los escombros de flores aplastadas y copas de champán, con la cabeza agachada, su expresión ilegible. Dejó escapar una risita amarga. Era tarde. Las calles afuera estaban tranquilas y vacías. Claudia salió del club sin ganas de ir a casa. Vagó junto al río, el frío de la noche calándole la piel. Entonces, se detuvo en seco. Los vellos de su nuca se erizaron: alguien la seguía. Levantó su teléfono, fingiendo tomar una selfie, inclinándolo lo justo para ver el reflejo detrás de ella. Un grupo de hombres, sombras acercándose. Su pulso se disparó. Empezó a caminar más rápido. Ellos también. Su pulgar se cernió sobre su contacto de emergencia —el número que Jasper la había obligado a configurar hacía un año. En aquel entonces, le había roto el brazo a un acosador por molestar a una chica y había terminado en la comisaría. Jasper la sacó bajo fianza, regañándola durante todo el trayecto a casa por ser imprudente. Se había puesto a sí mismo como su contacto de emergencia, haciéndole prometer que si alguna vez estaba en peligro, lo llamaría a él, sin heroísmos, sin orgullo. Había jurado que sin importar dónde o cuándo, iría por ella. Nunca imaginó que la primera vez que llamaría sería así. "¿Claudia?" La voz de Jasper llegó, baja y cansada. Estaba en el hospital. El accidente de Lydia no había sido grave, pero ella era frágil —nacida prematura, se alteraba fácilmente. Solo él podía calmarla. Todo el clan Lancaster estaba acampado fuera. Lydia acababa de quedarse dormida cuando llegó la llamada, despertándola de un salto. "Jasper, alguien me está siguiendo." Silencio. Luego, su voz, fría, desdeñosa. "Claudia, realmente no puedo irme esta noche. No montes una escena." Pensó que estaba mintiendo, intentando alejarlo otra vez del lado de la cama de Lydia. Justo entonces, la madre de Lydia, Lottie Wallace, entró con un vaso de agua. Su rostro suave y elegante se endureció al ver el teléfono en la mano de Jasper. "¡Claudia!", espetó. "Lydia acaba de tener un accidente, y ni siquiera te molestas en visitar. ¿Ahora estás quién sabe dónde, inventando historias? ¿Cuándo vas a crecer? Escucha: nadie se va esta noche. Deja ya tus juegos mezquinos." Colgó sin dudar. En la cama, Lydia yacía pálida y temblorosa. Su voz era pequeña, vacilante. "Mamá, no te enfades. ¿Y si Claudia realmente está en problemas?" Lottie suspiró, la decepción grabada a fuego. "¿Qué problemas podría tener? Esta no es la primera vez que intenta algo cuando tú estás enferma." En la secundaria, Claudia una vez había llamado a casa en medio de la noche, diciendo que la habían secuestrado y exigiendo dinero de rescate. Esa misma noche, Lydia había caído enferma. La familia ya estaba en pánico, y la supuesta llamada de rescate casi le da un infarto a Lottie. Habían corrido a la ubicación, solo para encontrar a Claudia saliendo ilesa, sin un rasguño. Para cuando volvieron a casa, Lydia se había desplomado en el suelo, sola. Era demasiado tarde cuando finalmente la llevaron al hospital. El doctor dijo que con otro retraso, no habría sobrevivido. Esa noche, el padre de Claudia la había golpeado hasta dejarla sangrando. Pasó un mes en el hospital, y nunca se disculpó. La voz de Lottie se suavizó, cargada de decepción. "¿Cuándo se volvió así mi dulce niña?" Jasper conocía cada palabra de esa historia. Incluso había sido él quien llevaba snacks a escondidas a la cama de Claudia en el hospital después, contando chistes estúpidos para hacerla reír. Pero esta noche era diferente. Se dijo a sí mismo que solo estaba haciendo una rabieta por la propuesta arruinada. No tenía energía para sus pataletas. Mañana, cuando se calmara, hablaría con ella, la haría sonreír de nuevo. Colgó, apartó el cabello de la frente de Lydia y susurró: "Se te ha ido la fiebre. Pórtate bien. Duerme." Los ojos de Lydia brillaron con culpa y suavidad. "Jasper, lo siento por esta noche. Es toda mi culpa. Si no fuera tan débil—" "No. Nunca eres una carga." "Jasper…" "Duerme." Sus pestañas aletearon y se cerraron, y una pequeña sonrisa curvó sus labios. Dormiría tranquila esa noche. … Detrás de Claudia, los hombres se acercaban, lentos, perezosos, como gatos jugando con un ratón. Ella siguió corriendo, la voz de Jasper y el regaño de Lottie resonando en su mente. Tal vez había estado decepcionada demasiadas veces, porque ni siquiera se sentía triste ya, solo vacía. Hueca. La noche de abril era cálida, pero cortaba como cristal. La empujaron a un rincón oscuro. Claudia se detuvo bajo un árbol, su expresión calmada, los ojos bajándose al suelo. Entonces, se movió. Quince minutos después, los hombres yacían esparcidos por el pavimento —brazos retorcidos, piernas rotas, gimiendo de dolor. Claudia, sin aliento y sangrando, se dejó caer en el bordillo. Agarró su teléfono con una mano resbaladiza de sangre y marcó al 911. Después de ese lío en octavo grado, había empezado kickboxing y defensa personal. Había aprendido pronto: nadie vendría a salvarla. Uno de los hombres, con el brazo doblado en la dirección incorrecta, empezó a arrastrarse hacia ella. Los ojos de Claudia se posaron sobre él, fríos y afilados. Antes de que pudiera moverse, una bota cayó con fuerza, enviando al tipo volando. Una sombra se cernió sobre ella: un hombre alto con una sonrisa perezosa y el tipo de rostro que podría salirse con la suya cometiendo un asesinato. La miró desde arriba, haciendo un clic suave con la lengua. "Tss. ¿De dónde ha salido esta criaturita?" Capítulo 3 Sterling Romero salió de la Mansión Romero esa noche, lo suficientemente enfadado como para dejar su coche a medio camino a casa y sacar al perro a pasear. Lo que no esperaba era toparse con esa escena. Allí estaba ella, un capullo de rosa hermoso y malherido, acorralado por una jauría de callejeros desaliñados. Parecía frágil, pero la forma en que levantaba la barbilla, los ojos ardiendo de desafío, lo atrajo directamente de vuelta al cachorro de lobo huérfano con el que había vivido en las montañas casi un mes cuando tenía diez años. Todo fanfarronería y dientes al descubierto, guardando su pequeño trozo de tierra. Débil, pero ardiendo de vida. Ese lobo había muerto por sus manos al final. ¿Y esta chica? Era el mismo tipo de criatura: pequeña, espinosa y lista para hacer sangrar a quien intentara hacerle daño. Su rostro ni siquiera se inmutó mientras rompía los brazos de esos matones como si fueran ramitas. Nada la conmovía. Sterling, que rara vez se preocupaba por nada, sintió un destello de interés que no podía sacudirse. En contra de su mejor juicio, intervino. De cerca, era aún más difícil de olvidar. Esos ojos, oscuros, claros, brillantes como una noche después de la lluvia, se engancharon en algo enterrado profundamente dentro de él. Cuando ella levantó la vista, sobresaltada, había un destello de luz estelar que le hizo picar los dedos, con ganas de alargar la mano, de cubrir esos ojos afilados e intrépidos. Bien. Ya había intervenido. Mejor llevarlo hasta el final. Y, honestamente, necesitaba desahogarse. El callejón se llenó de gritos. Hacía un minuto, esos matones solo estaban demasiado heridos para arrastrarse. ¿Ahora? Estaban hechos pedazos: brazos inútiles, piernas rotas, el pánico espeso en el aire. Se arrepentían de todo. El trabajo había sido simple: golpearla un poco, nada grave. Su jefe incluso les había advertido que no dejaran marcas. Pero ella era demasiado hermosa, y unos cuantos se volvieron codiciosos. ¿Quién podría haber imaginado que la belleza delicada pegaba como un demonio, y lo que era peor, que un hombre como él aparecería de la nada? Frío, letal, como la Muerte misma con un abrigo de diseñador. Si el asesinato fuera legal, estaban seguros de que les habría roto el cuello sin pestañear. El cabecilla ya estaba perdiendo la cabeza. Sterling volvió paseando hasta donde la chica yacía observando desde el suelo. Su tono llevaba un rastro de diversión maliciosa. "Eres rápida, pero no lo suficiente despiadada. Si dejas cabos sueltos así, volverán para morderte. Entonces, pequeña callejera, ¿cómo piensas pagarme esta noche?" Claudia, que podría haber manejado la pelea bien por sí sola, y que ahora de alguna manera le debía algo a este extraño, guardó silencio. Tumbada de espaldas, el rostro surcado de sangre y polvo, de alguna manera parecía irreal en la oscuridad. Sterling frunció el ceño. Sucio. Se inclinó para levantar a la silenciosa rosa a sus pies, entonces algo lo empujó con fuerza. Tropezó, perdió el equilibrio y cayó justo encima de ella. Su peso aplastó su brazo herido; su mano izquierda aterrizó sobre algo más suave. Sus dedos se tensaron y apretaron antes de que su cerebro reaccionara. Se quedó helado. Ella también. Sus ojos se encontraron, muy abiertos en mutua conmoción. A unos metros de distancia, el perro pastor culpable se sentó parpadeando, como diciendo: Por favor, no me vean. Inmovilizada bajo un extraño, con todo dolorido, Claudia respiró hondo y tembloroso. Guapo o no, un grupo seguía siendo un grupo. Su expresión calmada se volvió feroz. Sterling oyó las primeras palabras de la rosa para él esa noche. "¿Nadie te dijo nunca?" "¿Decirme qué?" "Que no metas la nariz en los asuntos de otros." Antes de que la última palabra se desvaneciera, le rodeó el cuello con los brazos y lo tiró hacia abajo. Sus frentes chocaron con un crujido. El dolor se disparó. "¡Agente! ¡Por aquí!" Su voz sonó clara. Segundos después, las sirenas partieron la noche. Los policías vinieron corriendo. Sterling, al darse cuenta de que acababa de ser utilizado, dejó escapar una risa baja e incrédula. "¿Así tratas a tu salvador?" Terminó tumbado exactamente donde ella había estado, su voz goteando sarcasmo. Claudia se puso de pie, medio en sombras, y le dedicó una sonrisa delgada. "Obviamente. Soy la villana desagradecida, ¿recuerdas?" … Esa noche, el chico de oro de Liberty City, el heredero de Romero Corporation, fue llevado a la comisaría. Clint apareció rápido con un abogado, echando miradas furtivas a la chica que despertó la rara misericordia del Segador… y luego lo denunció por acoso. ¿Valiente, verdad? Era hermosa, y claramente no le temía a nada. Una vez que los matones fueron registrados, Clint se preparó, esperando a que Sterling dijera la palabra: Encárgate de ella. En cambio, Sterling dijo: "Averigua quién es." "¿Quién?" La palabra se le escapó antes de que Clint pudiera detenerse. Sterling nunca mostraba interés en ninguna mujer. La sola idea daba miedo. La mirada de Sterling se clavó en él, lo suficientemente afilada para hacerlo callar. "Sí, señor", murmuró Clint rápidamente. Mirando a la chica alejarse a zancadas después de lanzar una última mirada ardiente por encima del hombro, Clint sintió una punzada de lástima. Eso era todo. Ella y toda su familia estaban acabadas. … Ajena a la tormenta que acababa de desatar, Claudia se arrastró a casa al amanecer, perseguida por una ráfaga de llamadas. Su padre, Wilson Lancaster, la recibió en la puerta con una bofetada sonora. "¿Cómo he criado a una hija como tú?" No esquivó a tiempo. Su mejilla pálida enrojeció e hinchó. La habitación se quedó helada. Jasper frunció el ceño, con dolor destellando en sus ojos. Se obligó a no intervenir. Claudia había cruzado la línea esta vez; si no aprendía, quién sabía qué caos provocaría después. Aun así… Wilson había golpeado demasiado fuerte. La visión le retorció algo en el pecho. Lottie, Clarence y Zane llevaban la misma expresión enfadada y decepcionada. En el sofá, los ojos de Lydia brillaban con una alegría mal disimulada. Había estado furiosa la noche anterior porque los cretinos que contrató habían metido la pata y terminado en la comisaría. Por suerte, había cubierto sus huellas. Habían afirmado que fue solo un agarre "en un momento de arrebato", y como no pasó nada grave, no había nada que la vinculara a ella. Había sido dada de alta esa mañana y soltó el cebo que tenía preparado desde hacía tiempo. Los Lancaster se lo tragaron entero. Después de desaparecer toda la noche, nadie preguntó dónde había estado Claudia, ni notó sus heridas. La recibieron con una bofetada. Esa era su familia. Claudia no discutió. Caminó directamente hacia la pequeña Lydia, presumida y satisfecha.
Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now.Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now. Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia Capítulo 1 ¡Bum! Las puertas de la sala del evento se abrieron de golpe. "¡Algo le ha pasado a Lydia!", gritó un hombre al entrar tambaleándose, con el pánico pintado en el rostro. Las palabras impactaron como una bomba. La sala —decorada con flores, lazos y música romántica, bullendo de emoción por la propuesta— quedó instantáneamente en silencio. El hombre en el centro de atención, aún de rodillas, con el anillo en la mano, se giró sobresaltado. "¿Qué acabas de decir?" Quade Zimmer, con su pelo teñido de azul tan estridente como su voz, soltó: "¡La señora Lancaster acaba de llamar! ¡Lydia ha tenido un accidente de coche! ¡Está en el hospital ahora mismo!" Apenas habían salido las palabras de su boca cuando estalló el caos: sillas arrastrándose, tacones repiqueteando, gente apresurándose hacia la puerta. No era una exageración decir que Lydia Wallace era la chica de moda de su círculo: hermosa, talentosa, frágil de esa forma desgarradora que hacía que la gente quisiera protegerla. Todos la adoraban, la compadecían, la veneraban. ¿Y ahora que su diosa estaba herida? A nadie le quedaba corazón para seguir celebrando una propuesta de matrimonio cuya respuesta todos ya conocían. Incluso el chico que proponía lo dejó todo y salió corriendo. "Jasper—" La voz que pronunció su nombre llegó por detrás —suave, apenas más que un suspiro. Fue entonces cuando todos finalmente se dieron cuenta: la mujer a la que le estaban pidiendo matrimonio no había dicho ni una palabra en todo este tiempo. Alguien debió de haber dado a los interruptores en el caos, porque la sala se oscureció. La única luz provenía de las suaves lámparas de la pared. En un rincón, mitad en sombras, mitad en luz, estaba Claudia Lancaster. Su belleza no era del tipo dulce y gentil —era marcada, impactante, inolvidable. Pero en ese momento, su calma resultaba inquietante. Su expresión no revelaba nada. "¿No quieres oír mi respuesta?", preguntó en voz baja. Hacía apenas un minuto, Jasper Fenton le había pedido que se casara con él. Ahora, a medio camino de la puerta, se detuvo en seco. Ni siquiera intentó explicarse. "Claudia, lo siento. Tengo que ir al hospital. Vete a casa primero, ¿vale?" "¿Y si no te dejo ir?" Su voz se mantuvo firme. "Jasper, sabes que la odio." Jasper suspiró, exasperado. "Claudia, ahora no. No es momento para empezar una pelea." "Mi respuesta… puede que solo la obtengas una vez", dijo, tan calmada como siempre. Algo en su tono le hizo hacer una pausa. Normalmente, en cuanto salía el nombre de Lydia, Claudia estallaba —espetando, poniendo los ojos en blanco, maldiciendo a Lydia entre dientes. Pero esta noche, estaba fría, distante. Casi como si lo hubiera estado esperando. Un destello de inquietud le recorrió la espalda a Jasper. "Oh, por favor", intervino Quade, poniendo los ojos en blanco. "Has estado obsesionada con Jasper desde, ¿qué, la secundaria? El tipo finalmente te propone matrimonio y ¿se supone que debemos creer que dirías que no?" "Sí, alguien podría estar muriéndose en serio. Te pueden proponer matrimonio cualquier otro día", añadió alguien más. "¡Exacto! Las familias arreglaron esto hace siglos, toda esta cosa es solo por apariencias." Los comentarios dolían, pero Claudia ni siquiera parpadeó. Sus ojos oscuros permanecieron clavados en Jasper. Esperando. Jasper dejó escapar otro suspiro y volvió hacia ella. Como siempre, le despeinó el cabello como si fuera una niña. "Pórtate bien, ¿vale? No montes una escena. Lydia podría estar gravemente herida. Este no es el momento para una rabieta." Siempre era así. Cada vez que Lydia estaba involucrada, Jasper nunca preguntaba quién tenía razón o no. Corría a consolar a Lydia primero, y luego volvía a regañar a Claudia, suave y paciente, como si fuera una niña mimada que simplemente no entendía. Así se sentía amar a alguien desde abajo. No importaba cuánto gritaras, tu ira era solo "graciosa". Nunca seria. ¿Esta propuesta? Nunca había sido una pregunta real. Jasper ya sabía cuál debería haber sido su respuesta. "¡Oh, al diablo con esto, no puedo quedarme callada más tiempo!" Whitney Sawyer golpeó su bolso de mano contra algo, con furia destellando en sus ojos. Había estado aguantándose desde que Quade irrumpió, pero ya era suficiente. "Jasper, ¿eres su novio o su ambulancia personal? ¿Cómo es que cada vez que Lydia sufre 'un accidente', te llama a ti? Siempre perfectamente sincronizado, siempre arruinando tus planes. ¡La última vez fue una cita, ahora es tu propuesta! ¿Qué, no podía esperar a morirse cinco minutos?" Como mejor amiga de Claudia, Whitney había pasado semanas planeando esta propuesta. Y ahora, una vez más, Lydia la había secuestrado, y Jasper había caído directamente en la trampa. La furia de Whitney se extendió como un incendio forestal. "¡Y el resto de ustedes! ¿Para qué corren, a visitarla o a planear su funeral? ¡A este paso, Lydia ya debería haber muerto cien veces!" "¡Whitney!" El rostro de Jasper se ensombreció; el hombre gentil y afable desapareció. Su voz sonó como un latigazo. "Mide tus palabras." "Oh, perdóname." La voz de Whitney subió de tono, aguda y furiosa. "¿No soportas oír criticar a tu preciosa Lydia? Jasper, ¿acaso recuerdas quién es tu novia?" Los ojos de Jasper se helaron. Claudia le agarró el brazo a Whitney, con voz tranquila pero firme. "Si sales por esa puerta, Jasper, terminamos." Ya se había perdido demasiado tiempo. Jasper se pellizcó el puente de la nariz y suspiró. "No digas algo de lo que te arrepentirás. Claudia, hablaremos cuando vuelva." Se dio la vuelta y salió con paso firme, sin mirar atrás. Ni siquiera sabía lo graves que eran las lesiones de Lydia, solo sabía que tenía que ir. Se dijo a sí mismo: Cuando vuelva, lo compensaré. Le haré una propuesta aún mejor. También tomó nota mental de decirle a Claudia que se alejara de Whitney; claramente esa chica le estaba llenando la cabeza de tonterías. La sala se hundió bajo el peso de todo. Incluso aquellos que pensaban que Claudia estaba siendo dramática se mordieron la lengua. Nadie quería contrariar a Jasper, ni a los Sawyer. Uno a uno, se escabulleron. En minutos, el lugar era irreconocible. Pétalos de rosa aplastados y lazos cubrían el suelo. Botellas de vino rodaban bajo las sillas. Glaseado embadurnaba la alfombra. Toda la escena parecía una parodia de lo que había sido, burlándose de lo ridículo que era todo. Mientras los últimos rezagados se quedaban, alguien frunció el ceño. "Esperen… Lydia es la hija adoptiva de los Lancaster, ¿verdad? Oí que es prima de Claudia. ¿Por qué nadie llamó a Claudia también?" "¿Llamarla? ¿Qué, quieren empeorar aún más las lesiones de Lydia?" "Vaya, ¿qué se supone que significa eso?" "Lo de siempre. Que la señorita Lancaster es fría, cruel, desagradecida… ya sabes cómo va." Los susurros comenzaron de nuevo, suaves, venenosos y familiares. Siempre lo hacían cuando el nombre de Lydia salía junto al de Claudia. El rostro de Whitney ardía de ira. Se volvió hacia Claudia, de repente preocupada. Los cotilleos de extraños no importaban, pero ¿la traición de alguien a quien amas? Eso siempre calaba más hondo. Claudia observó la espalda de Jasper mientras se alejaba, cada paso alejándolo más de ella. Era como ver los años escurriéndose entre sus dedos, el chico con el que había crecido desvaneciéndose a lo lejos. Whitney le había preguntado una vez: Si nada hubiera interrumpido esta noche, ¿habrías dicho que sí? Pero, honestamente: No importara cuál fuera su respuesta, el final habría sido el mismo. Lydia nunca la dejaría ganar. Y Jasper nunca la elegiría a ella. En el momento en que le dio la espalda, no se dio cuenta de que, aunque el futuro pueda parecer interminable, la mujer dispuesta a esperarte no dura para siempre. Jasper… esta vez, realmente te dejo ir. En la mesa, entre el desorden, el teléfono de Claudia vibró. Una notificación de WhatsApp apareció, breve y suficiente. "Perdiste." Capítulo 2 Tres días antes, Lydia había acorralado a Claudia. "Sabes que Jasper está a punto de proponerte matrimonio, ¿verdad?" Sus bonitos ojos brillaban, no de emoción, sino de celos y malicia. "Oí que ambas familias querían pasar directamente a la fiesta de compromiso, pero él insistió en hacerlo bien. Dijo que necesitaba oír tu 'sí' él mismo, o no significaría nada. Ayy, qué romántico, ¿no?" "¿Y qué?" Claudia levantó la vista, su tono plano, sin inmutarse. La sonrisa de Lydia se curvó, afilada y venenosa. "¿Y qué? Claudia, ¿qué hace que una pecadora como tú crea que merece felicidad?" Se inclinó más cerca, con voz azucarada pero goteando veneno. "¿Quieres apostar? En tres días, esa propuesta ni siquiera ocurrirá." Claudia solo la miró fijamente. Para todos los demás, Lydia era pura perfección: de voz suave, gentil, toda gracia y luz. Nadie creería que a puerta cerrada podía escupir veneno así. Podría haber detenido la propuesta en cualquier momento que quisiera. Pero no. A Lydia le gustaba el drama. Quería esperar hasta el acto final, para empujar a Claudia fuera del escenario ella misma. Como siempre hacía. … Después de que la propuesta se fuera al traste, el teléfono de Whitney sonó. Una mirada a la identificación de la llamada, y su rostro se demudó. Maldijo entre dientes y salió corriendo. Había planeado dejar a Claudia primero —Claudia había llegado en el coche de Jasper—, pero cuando Claudia se dio cuenta de que algo pasaba con la madre de Whitney, la instó a irse. Cuando todos los demás se habían ido, Claudia se quedó entre los escombros de flores aplastadas y copas de champán, con la cabeza agachada, su expresión ilegible. Dejó escapar una risita amarga. Era tarde. Las calles afuera estaban tranquilas y vacías. Claudia salió del club sin ganas de ir a casa. Vagó junto al río, el frío de la noche calándole la piel. Entonces, se detuvo en seco. Los vellos de su nuca se erizaron: alguien la seguía. Levantó su teléfono, fingiendo tomar una selfie, inclinándolo lo justo para ver el reflejo detrás de ella. Un grupo de hombres, sombras acercándose. Su pulso se disparó. Empezó a caminar más rápido. Ellos también. Su pulgar se cernió sobre su contacto de emergencia —el número que Jasper la había obligado a configurar hacía un año. En aquel entonces, le había roto el brazo a un acosador por molestar a una chica y había terminado en la comisaría. Jasper la sacó bajo fianza, regañándola durante todo el trayecto a casa por ser imprudente. Se había puesto a sí mismo como su contacto de emergencia, haciéndole prometer que si alguna vez estaba en peligro, lo llamaría a él, sin heroísmos, sin orgullo. Había jurado que sin importar dónde o cuándo, iría por ella. Nunca imaginó que la primera vez que llamaría sería así. "¿Claudia?" La voz de Jasper llegó, baja y cansada. Estaba en el hospital. El accidente de Lydia no había sido grave, pero ella era frágil —nacida prematura, se alteraba fácilmente. Solo él podía calmarla. Todo el clan Lancaster estaba acampado fuera. Lydia acababa de quedarse dormida cuando llegó la llamada, despertándola de un salto. "Jasper, alguien me está siguiendo." Silencio. Luego, su voz, fría, desdeñosa. "Claudia, realmente no puedo irme esta noche. No montes una escena." Pensó que estaba mintiendo, intentando alejarlo otra vez del lado de la cama de Lydia. Justo entonces, la madre de Lydia, Lottie Wallace, entró con un vaso de agua. Su rostro suave y elegante se endureció al ver el teléfono en la mano de Jasper. "¡Claudia!", espetó. "Lydia acaba de tener un accidente, y ni siquiera te molestas en visitar. ¿Ahora estás quién sabe dónde, inventando historias? ¿Cuándo vas a crecer? Escucha: nadie se va esta noche. Deja ya tus juegos mezquinos." Colgó sin dudar. En la cama, Lydia yacía pálida y temblorosa. Su voz era pequeña, vacilante. "Mamá, no te enfades. ¿Y si Claudia realmente está en problemas?" Lottie suspiró, la decepción grabada a fuego. "¿Qué problemas podría tener? Esta no es la primera vez que intenta algo cuando tú estás enferma." En la secundaria, Claudia una vez había llamado a casa en medio de la noche, diciendo que la habían secuestrado y exigiendo dinero de rescate. Esa misma noche, Lydia había caído enferma. La familia ya estaba en pánico, y la supuesta llamada de rescate casi le da un infarto a Lottie. Habían corrido a la ubicación, solo para encontrar a Claudia saliendo ilesa, sin un rasguño. Para cuando volvieron a casa, Lydia se había desplomado en el suelo, sola. Era demasiado tarde cuando finalmente la llevaron al hospital. El doctor dijo que con otro retraso, no habría sobrevivido. Esa noche, el padre de Claudia la había golpeado hasta dejarla sangrando. Pasó un mes en el hospital, y nunca se disculpó. La voz de Lottie se suavizó, cargada de decepción. "¿Cuándo se volvió así mi dulce niña?" Jasper conocía cada palabra de esa historia. Incluso había sido él quien llevaba snacks a escondidas a la cama de Claudia en el hospital después, contando chistes estúpidos para hacerla reír. Pero esta noche era diferente. Se dijo a sí mismo que solo estaba haciendo una rabieta por la propuesta arruinada. No tenía energía para sus pataletas. Mañana, cuando se calmara, hablaría con ella, la haría sonreír de nuevo. Colgó, apartó el cabello de la frente de Lydia y susurró: "Se te ha ido la fiebre. Pórtate bien. Duerme." Los ojos de Lydia brillaron con culpa y suavidad. "Jasper, lo siento por esta noche. Es toda mi culpa. Si no fuera tan débil—" "No. Nunca eres una carga." "Jasper…" "Duerme." Sus pestañas aletearon y se cerraron, y una pequeña sonrisa curvó sus labios. Dormiría tranquila esa noche. … Detrás de Claudia, los hombres se acercaban, lentos, perezosos, como gatos jugando con un ratón. Ella siguió corriendo, la voz de Jasper y el regaño de Lottie resonando en su mente. Tal vez había estado decepcionada demasiadas veces, porque ni siquiera se sentía triste ya, solo vacía. Hueca. La noche de abril era cálida, pero cortaba como cristal. La empujaron a un rincón oscuro. Claudia se detuvo bajo un árbol, su expresión calmada, los ojos bajándose al suelo. Entonces, se movió. Quince minutos después, los hombres yacían esparcidos por el pavimento —brazos retorcidos, piernas rotas, gimiendo de dolor. Claudia, sin aliento y sangrando, se dejó caer en el bordillo. Agarró su teléfono con una mano resbaladiza de sangre y marcó al 911. Después de ese lío en octavo grado, había empezado kickboxing y defensa personal. Había aprendido pronto: nadie vendría a salvarla. Uno de los hombres, con el brazo doblado en la dirección incorrecta, empezó a arrastrarse hacia ella. Los ojos de Claudia se posaron sobre él, fríos y afilados. Antes de que pudiera moverse, una bota cayó con fuerza, enviando al tipo volando. Una sombra se cernió sobre ella: un hombre alto con una sonrisa perezosa y el tipo de rostro que podría salirse con la suya cometiendo un asesinato. La miró desde arriba, haciendo un clic suave con la lengua. "Tss. ¿De dónde ha salido esta criaturita?" Capítulo 3 Sterling Romero salió de la Mansión Romero esa noche, lo suficientemente enfadado como para dejar su coche a medio camino a casa y sacar al perro a pasear. Lo que no esperaba era toparse con esa escena. Allí estaba ella, un capullo de rosa hermoso y malherido, acorralado por una jauría de callejeros desaliñados. Parecía frágil, pero la forma en que levantaba la barbilla, los ojos ardiendo de desafío, lo atrajo directamente de vuelta al cachorro de lobo huérfano con el que había vivido en las montañas casi un mes cuando tenía diez años. Todo fanfarronería y dientes al descubierto, guardando su pequeño trozo de tierra. Débil, pero ardiendo de vida. Ese lobo había muerto por sus manos al final. ¿Y esta chica? Era el mismo tipo de criatura: pequeña, espinosa y lista para hacer sangrar a quien intentara hacerle daño. Su rostro ni siquiera se inmutó mientras rompía los brazos de esos matones como si fueran ramitas. Nada la conmovía. Sterling, que rara vez se preocupaba por nada, sintió un destello de interés que no podía sacudirse. En contra de su mejor juicio, intervino. De cerca, era aún más difícil de olvidar. Esos ojos, oscuros, claros, brillantes como una noche después de la lluvia, se engancharon en algo enterrado profundamente dentro de él. Cuando ella levantó la vista, sobresaltada, había un destello de luz estelar que le hizo picar los dedos, con ganas de alargar la mano, de cubrir esos ojos afilados e intrépidos. Bien. Ya había intervenido. Mejor llevarlo hasta el final. Y, honestamente, necesitaba desahogarse. El callejón se llenó de gritos. Hacía un minuto, esos matones solo estaban demasiado heridos para arrastrarse. ¿Ahora? Estaban hechos pedazos: brazos inútiles, piernas rotas, el pánico espeso en el aire. Se arrepentían de todo. El trabajo había sido simple: golpearla un poco, nada grave. Su jefe incluso les había advertido que no dejaran marcas. Pero ella era demasiado hermosa, y unos cuantos se volvieron codiciosos. ¿Quién podría haber imaginado que la belleza delicada pegaba como un demonio, y lo que era peor, que un hombre como él aparecería de la nada? Frío, letal, como la Muerte misma con un abrigo de diseñador. Si el asesinato fuera legal, estaban seguros de que les habría roto el cuello sin pestañear. El cabecilla ya estaba perdiendo la cabeza. Sterling volvió paseando hasta donde la chica yacía observando desde el suelo. Su tono llevaba un rastro de diversión maliciosa. "Eres rápida, pero no lo suficiente despiadada. Si dejas cabos sueltos así, volverán para morderte. Entonces, pequeña callejera, ¿cómo piensas pagarme esta noche?" Claudia, que podría haber manejado la pelea bien por sí sola, y que ahora de alguna manera le debía algo a este extraño, guardó silencio. Tumbada de espaldas, el rostro surcado de sangre y polvo, de alguna manera parecía irreal en la oscuridad. Sterling frunció el ceño. Sucio. Se inclinó para levantar a la silenciosa rosa a sus pies, entonces algo lo empujó con fuerza. Tropezó, perdió el equilibrio y cayó justo encima de ella. Su peso aplastó su brazo herido; su mano izquierda aterrizó sobre algo más suave. Sus dedos se tensaron y apretaron antes de que su cerebro reaccionara. Se quedó helado. Ella también. Sus ojos se encontraron, muy abiertos en mutua conmoción. A unos metros de distancia, el perro pastor culpable se sentó parpadeando, como diciendo: Por favor, no me vean. Inmovilizada bajo un extraño, con todo dolorido, Claudia respiró hondo y tembloroso. Guapo o no, un grupo seguía siendo un grupo. Su expresión calmada se volvió feroz. Sterling oyó las primeras palabras de la rosa para él esa noche. "¿Nadie te dijo nunca?" "¿Decirme qué?" "Que no metas la nariz en los asuntos de otros." Antes de que la última palabra se desvaneciera, le rodeó el cuello con los brazos y lo tiró hacia abajo. Sus frentes chocaron con un crujido. El dolor se disparó. "¡Agente! ¡Por aquí!" Su voz sonó clara. Segundos después, las sirenas partieron la noche. Los policías vinieron corriendo. Sterling, al darse cuenta de que acababa de ser utilizado, dejó escapar una risa baja e incrédula. "¿Así tratas a tu salvador?" Terminó tumbado exactamente donde ella había estado, su voz goteando sarcasmo. Claudia se puso de pie, medio en sombras, y le dedicó una sonrisa delgada. "Obviamente. Soy la villana desagradecida, ¿recuerdas?" … Esa noche, el chico de oro de Liberty City, el heredero de Romero Corporation, fue llevado a la comisaría. Clint apareció rápido con un abogado, echando miradas furtivas a la chica que despertó la rara misericordia del Segador… y luego lo denunció por acoso. ¿Valiente, verdad? Era hermosa, y claramente no le temía a nada. Una vez que los matones fueron registrados, Clint se preparó, esperando a que Sterling dijera la palabra: Encárgate de ella. En cambio, Sterling dijo: "Averigua quién es." "¿Quién?" La palabra se le escapó antes de que Clint pudiera detenerse. Sterling nunca mostraba interés en ninguna mujer. La sola idea daba miedo. La mirada de Sterling se clavó en él, lo suficientemente afilada para hacerlo callar. "Sí, señor", murmuró Clint rápidamente. Mirando a la chica alejarse a zancadas después de lanzar una última mirada ardiente por encima del hombro, Clint sintió una punzada de lástima. Eso era todo. Ella y toda su familia estaban acabadas. … Ajena a la tormenta que acababa de desatar, Claudia se arrastró a casa al amanecer, perseguida por una ráfaga de llamadas. Su padre, Wilson Lancaster, la recibió en la puerta con una bofetada sonora. "¿Cómo he criado a una hija como tú?" No esquivó a tiempo. Su mejilla pálida enrojeció e hinchó. La habitación se quedó helada. Jasper frunció el ceño, con dolor destellando en sus ojos. Se obligó a no intervenir. Claudia había cruzado la línea esta vez; si no aprendía, quién sabía qué caos provocaría después. Aun así… Wilson había golpeado demasiado fuerte. La visión le retorció algo en el pecho. Lottie, Clarence y Zane llevaban la misma expresión enfadada y decepcionada. En el sofá, los ojos de Lydia brillaban con una alegría mal disimulada. Había estado furiosa la noche anterior porque los cretinos que contrató habían metido la pata y terminado en la comisaría. Por suerte, había cubierto sus huellas. Habían afirmado que fue solo un agarre "en un momento de arrebato", y como no pasó nada grave, no había nada que la vinculara a ella. Había sido dada de alta esa mañana y soltó el cebo que tenía preparado desde hacía tiempo. Los Lancaster se lo tragaron entero. Después de desaparecer toda la noche, nadie preguntó dónde había estado Claudia, ni notó sus heridas. La recibieron con una bofetada. Esa era su familia. Claudia no discutió. Caminó directamente hacia la pequeña Lydia, presumida y satisfecha.
Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now.Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now. Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia Capítulo 1 ¡Bum! Las puertas de la sala del evento se abrieron de golpe. "¡Algo le ha pasado a Lydia!", gritó un hombre al entrar tambaleándose, con el pánico pintado en el rostro. Las palabras impactaron como una bomba. La sala —decorada con flores, lazos y música romántica, bullendo de emoción por la propuesta— quedó instantáneamente en silencio. El hombre en el centro de atención, aún de rodillas, con el anillo en la mano, se giró sobresaltado. "¿Qué acabas de decir?" Quade Zimmer, con su pelo teñido de azul tan estridente como su voz, soltó: "¡La señora Lancaster acaba de llamar! ¡Lydia ha tenido un accidente de coche! ¡Está en el hospital ahora mismo!" Apenas habían salido las palabras de su boca cuando estalló el caos: sillas arrastrándose, tacones repiqueteando, gente apresurándose hacia la puerta. No era una exageración decir que Lydia Wallace era la chica de moda de su círculo: hermosa, talentosa, frágil de esa forma desgarradora que hacía que la gente quisiera protegerla. Todos la adoraban, la compadecían, la veneraban. ¿Y ahora que su diosa estaba herida? A nadie le quedaba corazón para seguir celebrando una propuesta de matrimonio cuya respuesta todos ya conocían. Incluso el chico que proponía lo dejó todo y salió corriendo. "Jasper—" La voz que pronunció su nombre llegó por detrás —suave, apenas más que un suspiro. Fue entonces cuando todos finalmente se dieron cuenta: la mujer a la que le estaban pidiendo matrimonio no había dicho ni una palabra en todo este tiempo. Alguien debió de haber dado a los interruptores en el caos, porque la sala se oscureció. La única luz provenía de las suaves lámparas de la pared. En un rincón, mitad en sombras, mitad en luz, estaba Claudia Lancaster. Su belleza no era del tipo dulce y gentil —era marcada, impactante, inolvidable. Pero en ese momento, su calma resultaba inquietante. Su expresión no revelaba nada. "¿No quieres oír mi respuesta?", preguntó en voz baja. Hacía apenas un minuto, Jasper Fenton le había pedido que se casara con él. Ahora, a medio camino de la puerta, se detuvo en seco. Ni siquiera intentó explicarse. "Claudia, lo siento. Tengo que ir al hospital. Vete a casa primero, ¿vale?" "¿Y si no te dejo ir?" Su voz se mantuvo firme. "Jasper, sabes que la odio." Jasper suspiró, exasperado. "Claudia, ahora no. No es momento para empezar una pelea." "Mi respuesta… puede que solo la obtengas una vez", dijo, tan calmada como siempre. Algo en su tono le hizo hacer una pausa. Normalmente, en cuanto salía el nombre de Lydia, Claudia estallaba —espetando, poniendo los ojos en blanco, maldiciendo a Lydia entre dientes. Pero esta noche, estaba fría, distante. Casi como si lo hubiera estado esperando. Un destello de inquietud le recorrió la espalda a Jasper. "Oh, por favor", intervino Quade, poniendo los ojos en blanco. "Has estado obsesionada con Jasper desde, ¿qué, la secundaria? El tipo finalmente te propone matrimonio y ¿se supone que debemos creer que dirías que no?" "Sí, alguien podría estar muriéndose en serio. Te pueden proponer matrimonio cualquier otro día", añadió alguien más. "¡Exacto! Las familias arreglaron esto hace siglos, toda esta cosa es solo por apariencias." Los comentarios dolían, pero Claudia ni siquiera parpadeó. Sus ojos oscuros permanecieron clavados en Jasper. Esperando. Jasper dejó escapar otro suspiro y volvió hacia ella. Como siempre, le despeinó el cabello como si fuera una niña. "Pórtate bien, ¿vale? No montes una escena. Lydia podría estar gravemente herida. Este no es el momento para una rabieta." Siempre era así. Cada vez que Lydia estaba involucrada, Jasper nunca preguntaba quién tenía razón o no. Corría a consolar a Lydia primero, y luego volvía a regañar a Claudia, suave y paciente, como si fuera una niña mimada que simplemente no entendía. Así se sentía amar a alguien desde abajo. No importaba cuánto gritaras, tu ira era solo "graciosa". Nunca seria. ¿Esta propuesta? Nunca había sido una pregunta real. Jasper ya sabía cuál debería haber sido su respuesta. "¡Oh, al diablo con esto, no puedo quedarme callada más tiempo!" Whitney Sawyer golpeó su bolso de mano contra algo, con furia destellando en sus ojos. Había estado aguantándose desde que Quade irrumpió, pero ya era suficiente. "Jasper, ¿eres su novio o su ambulancia personal? ¿Cómo es que cada vez que Lydia sufre 'un accidente', te llama a ti? Siempre perfectamente sincronizado, siempre arruinando tus planes. ¡La última vez fue una cita, ahora es tu propuesta! ¿Qué, no podía esperar a morirse cinco minutos?" Como mejor amiga de Claudia, Whitney había pasado semanas planeando esta propuesta. Y ahora, una vez más, Lydia la había secuestrado, y Jasper había caído directamente en la trampa. La furia de Whitney se extendió como un incendio forestal. "¡Y el resto de ustedes! ¿Para qué corren, a visitarla o a planear su funeral? ¡A este paso, Lydia ya debería haber muerto cien veces!" "¡Whitney!" El rostro de Jasper se ensombreció; el hombre gentil y afable desapareció. Su voz sonó como un latigazo. "Mide tus palabras." "Oh, perdóname." La voz de Whitney subió de tono, aguda y furiosa. "¿No soportas oír criticar a tu preciosa Lydia? Jasper, ¿acaso recuerdas quién es tu novia?" Los ojos de Jasper se helaron. Claudia le agarró el brazo a Whitney, con voz tranquila pero firme. "Si sales por esa puerta, Jasper, terminamos." Ya se había perdido demasiado tiempo. Jasper se pellizcó el puente de la nariz y suspiró. "No digas algo de lo que te arrepentirás. Claudia, hablaremos cuando vuelva." Se dio la vuelta y salió con paso firme, sin mirar atrás. Ni siquiera sabía lo graves que eran las lesiones de Lydia, solo sabía que tenía que ir. Se dijo a sí mismo: Cuando vuelva, lo compensaré. Le haré una propuesta aún mejor. También tomó nota mental de decirle a Claudia que se alejara de Whitney; claramente esa chica le estaba llenando la cabeza de tonterías. La sala se hundió bajo el peso de todo. Incluso aquellos que pensaban que Claudia estaba siendo dramática se mordieron la lengua. Nadie quería contrariar a Jasper, ni a los Sawyer. Uno a uno, se escabulleron. En minutos, el lugar era irreconocible. Pétalos de rosa aplastados y lazos cubrían el suelo. Botellas de vino rodaban bajo las sillas. Glaseado embadurnaba la alfombra. Toda la escena parecía una parodia de lo que había sido, burlándose de lo ridículo que era todo. Mientras los últimos rezagados se quedaban, alguien frunció el ceño. "Esperen… Lydia es la hija adoptiva de los Lancaster, ¿verdad? Oí que es prima de Claudia. ¿Por qué nadie llamó a Claudia también?" "¿Llamarla? ¿Qué, quieren empeorar aún más las lesiones de Lydia?" "Vaya, ¿qué se supone que significa eso?" "Lo de siempre. Que la señorita Lancaster es fría, cruel, desagradecida… ya sabes cómo va." Los susurros comenzaron de nuevo, suaves, venenosos y familiares. Siempre lo hacían cuando el nombre de Lydia salía junto al de Claudia. El rostro de Whitney ardía de ira. Se volvió hacia Claudia, de repente preocupada. Los cotilleos de extraños no importaban, pero ¿la traición de alguien a quien amas? Eso siempre calaba más hondo. Claudia observó la espalda de Jasper mientras se alejaba, cada paso alejándolo más de ella. Era como ver los años escurriéndose entre sus dedos, el chico con el que había crecido desvaneciéndose a lo lejos. Whitney le había preguntado una vez: Si nada hubiera interrumpido esta noche, ¿habrías dicho que sí? Pero, honestamente: No importara cuál fuera su respuesta, el final habría sido el mismo. Lydia nunca la dejaría ganar. Y Jasper nunca la elegiría a ella. En el momento en que le dio la espalda, no se dio cuenta de que, aunque el futuro pueda parecer interminable, la mujer dispuesta a esperarte no dura para siempre. Jasper… esta vez, realmente te dejo ir. En la mesa, entre el desorden, el teléfono de Claudia vibró. Una notificación de WhatsApp apareció, breve y suficiente. "Perdiste." Capítulo 2 Tres días antes, Lydia había acorralado a Claudia. "Sabes que Jasper está a punto de proponerte matrimonio, ¿verdad?" Sus bonitos ojos brillaban, no de emoción, sino de celos y malicia. "Oí que ambas familias querían pasar directamente a la fiesta de compromiso, pero él insistió en hacerlo bien. Dijo que necesitaba oír tu 'sí' él mismo, o no significaría nada. Ayy, qué romántico, ¿no?" "¿Y qué?" Claudia levantó la vista, su tono plano, sin inmutarse. La sonrisa de Lydia se curvó, afilada y venenosa. "¿Y qué? Claudia, ¿qué hace que una pecadora como tú crea que merece felicidad?" Se inclinó más cerca, con voz azucarada pero goteando veneno. "¿Quieres apostar? En tres días, esa propuesta ni siquiera ocurrirá." Claudia solo la miró fijamente. Para todos los demás, Lydia era pura perfección: de voz suave, gentil, toda gracia y luz. Nadie creería que a puerta cerrada podía escupir veneno así. Podría haber detenido la propuesta en cualquier momento que quisiera. Pero no. A Lydia le gustaba el drama. Quería esperar hasta el acto final, para empujar a Claudia fuera del escenario ella misma. Como siempre hacía. … Después de que la propuesta se fuera al traste, el teléfono de Whitney sonó. Una mirada a la identificación de la llamada, y su rostro se demudó. Maldijo entre dientes y salió corriendo. Había planeado dejar a Claudia primero —Claudia había llegado en el coche de Jasper—, pero cuando Claudia se dio cuenta de que algo pasaba con la madre de Whitney, la instó a irse. Cuando todos los demás se habían ido, Claudia se quedó entre los escombros de flores aplastadas y copas de champán, con la cabeza agachada, su expresión ilegible. Dejó escapar una risita amarga. Era tarde. Las calles afuera estaban tranquilas y vacías. Claudia salió del club sin ganas de ir a casa. Vagó junto al río, el frío de la noche calándole la piel. Entonces, se detuvo en seco. Los vellos de su nuca se erizaron: alguien la seguía. Levantó su teléfono, fingiendo tomar una selfie, inclinándolo lo justo para ver el reflejo detrás de ella. Un grupo de hombres, sombras acercándose. Su pulso se disparó. Empezó a caminar más rápido. Ellos también. Su pulgar se cernió sobre su contacto de emergencia —el número que Jasper la había obligado a configurar hacía un año. En aquel entonces, le había roto el brazo a un acosador por molestar a una chica y había terminado en la comisaría. Jasper la sacó bajo fianza, regañándola durante todo el trayecto a casa por ser imprudente. Se había puesto a sí mismo como su contacto de emergencia, haciéndole prometer que si alguna vez estaba en peligro, lo llamaría a él, sin heroísmos, sin orgullo. Había jurado que sin importar dónde o cuándo, iría por ella. Nunca imaginó que la primera vez que llamaría sería así. "¿Claudia?" La voz de Jasper llegó, baja y cansada. Estaba en el hospital. El accidente de Lydia no había sido grave, pero ella era frágil —nacida prematura, se alteraba fácilmente. Solo él podía calmarla. Todo el clan Lancaster estaba acampado fuera. Lydia acababa de quedarse dormida cuando llegó la llamada, despertándola de un salto. "Jasper, alguien me está siguiendo." Silencio. Luego, su voz, fría, desdeñosa. "Claudia, realmente no puedo irme esta noche. No montes una escena." Pensó que estaba mintiendo, intentando alejarlo otra vez del lado de la cama de Lydia. Justo entonces, la madre de Lydia, Lottie Wallace, entró con un vaso de agua. Su rostro suave y elegante se endureció al ver el teléfono en la mano de Jasper. "¡Claudia!", espetó. "Lydia acaba de tener un accidente, y ni siquiera te molestas en visitar. ¿Ahora estás quién sabe dónde, inventando historias? ¿Cuándo vas a crecer? Escucha: nadie se va esta noche. Deja ya tus juegos mezquinos." Colgó sin dudar. En la cama, Lydia yacía pálida y temblorosa. Su voz era pequeña, vacilante. "Mamá, no te enfades. ¿Y si Claudia realmente está en problemas?" Lottie suspiró, la decepción grabada a fuego. "¿Qué problemas podría tener? Esta no es la primera vez que intenta algo cuando tú estás enferma." En la secundaria, Claudia una vez había llamado a casa en medio de la noche, diciendo que la habían secuestrado y exigiendo dinero de rescate. Esa misma noche, Lydia había caído enferma. La familia ya estaba en pánico, y la supuesta llamada de rescate casi le da un infarto a Lottie. Habían corrido a la ubicación, solo para encontrar a Claudia saliendo ilesa, sin un rasguño. Para cuando volvieron a casa, Lydia se había desplomado en el suelo, sola. Era demasiado tarde cuando finalmente la llevaron al hospital. El doctor dijo que con otro retraso, no habría sobrevivido. Esa noche, el padre de Claudia la había golpeado hasta dejarla sangrando. Pasó un mes en el hospital, y nunca se disculpó. La voz de Lottie se suavizó, cargada de decepción. "¿Cuándo se volvió así mi dulce niña?" Jasper conocía cada palabra de esa historia. Incluso había sido él quien llevaba snacks a escondidas a la cama de Claudia en el hospital después, contando chistes estúpidos para hacerla reír. Pero esta noche era diferente. Se dijo a sí mismo que solo estaba haciendo una rabieta por la propuesta arruinada. No tenía energía para sus pataletas. Mañana, cuando se calmara, hablaría con ella, la haría sonreír de nuevo. Colgó, apartó el cabello de la frente de Lydia y susurró: "Se te ha ido la fiebre. Pórtate bien. Duerme." Los ojos de Lydia brillaron con culpa y suavidad. "Jasper, lo siento por esta noche. Es toda mi culpa. Si no fuera tan débil—" "No. Nunca eres una carga." "Jasper…" "Duerme." Sus pestañas aletearon y se cerraron, y una pequeña sonrisa curvó sus labios. Dormiría tranquila esa noche. … Detrás de Claudia, los hombres se acercaban, lentos, perezosos, como gatos jugando con un ratón. Ella siguió corriendo, la voz de Jasper y el regaño de Lottie resonando en su mente. Tal vez había estado decepcionada demasiadas veces, porque ni siquiera se sentía triste ya, solo vacía. Hueca. La noche de abril era cálida, pero cortaba como cristal. La empujaron a un rincón oscuro. Claudia se detuvo bajo un árbol, su expresión calmada, los ojos bajándose al suelo. Entonces, se movió. Quince minutos después, los hombres yacían esparcidos por el pavimento —brazos retorcidos, piernas rotas, gimiendo de dolor. Claudia, sin aliento y sangrando, se dejó caer en el bordillo. Agarró su teléfono con una mano resbaladiza de sangre y marcó al 911. Después de ese lío en octavo grado, había empezado kickboxing y defensa personal. Había aprendido pronto: nadie vendría a salvarla. Uno de los hombres, con el brazo doblado en la dirección incorrecta, empezó a arrastrarse hacia ella. Los ojos de Claudia se posaron sobre él, fríos y afilados. Antes de que pudiera moverse, una bota cayó con fuerza, enviando al tipo volando. Una sombra se cernió sobre ella: un hombre alto con una sonrisa perezosa y el tipo de rostro que podría salirse con la suya cometiendo un asesinato. La miró desde arriba, haciendo un clic suave con la lengua. "Tss. ¿De dónde ha salido esta criaturita?" Capítulo 3 Sterling Romero salió de la Mansión Romero esa noche, lo suficientemente enfadado como para dejar su coche a medio camino a casa y sacar al perro a pasear. Lo que no esperaba era toparse con esa escena. Allí estaba ella, un capullo de rosa hermoso y malherido, acorralado por una jauría de callejeros desaliñados. Parecía frágil, pero la forma en que levantaba la barbilla, los ojos ardiendo de desafío, lo atrajo directamente de vuelta al cachorro de lobo huérfano con el que había vivido en las montañas casi un mes cuando tenía diez años. Todo fanfarronería y dientes al descubierto, guardando su pequeño trozo de tierra. Débil, pero ardiendo de vida. Ese lobo había muerto por sus manos al final. ¿Y esta chica? Era el mismo tipo de criatura: pequeña, espinosa y lista para hacer sangrar a quien intentara hacerle daño. Su rostro ni siquiera se inmutó mientras rompía los brazos de esos matones como si fueran ramitas. Nada la conmovía. Sterling, que rara vez se preocupaba por nada, sintió un destello de interés que no podía sacudirse. En contra de su mejor juicio, intervino. De cerca, era aún más difícil de olvidar. Esos ojos, oscuros, claros, brillantes como una noche después de la lluvia, se engancharon en algo enterrado profundamente dentro de él. Cuando ella levantó la vista, sobresaltada, había un destello de luz estelar que le hizo picar los dedos, con ganas de alargar la mano, de cubrir esos ojos afilados e intrépidos. Bien. Ya había intervenido. Mejor llevarlo hasta el final. Y, honestamente, necesitaba desahogarse. El callejón se llenó de gritos. Hacía un minuto, esos matones solo estaban demasiado heridos para arrastrarse. ¿Ahora? Estaban hechos pedazos: brazos inútiles, piernas rotas, el pánico espeso en el aire. Se arrepentían de todo. El trabajo había sido simple: golpearla un poco, nada grave. Su jefe incluso les había advertido que no dejaran marcas. Pero ella era demasiado hermosa, y unos cuantos se volvieron codiciosos. ¿Quién podría haber imaginado que la belleza delicada pegaba como un demonio, y lo que era peor, que un hombre como él aparecería de la nada? Frío, letal, como la Muerte misma con un abrigo de diseñador. Si el asesinato fuera legal, estaban seguros de que les habría roto el cuello sin pestañear. El cabecilla ya estaba perdiendo la cabeza. Sterling volvió paseando hasta donde la chica yacía observando desde el suelo. Su tono llevaba un rastro de diversión maliciosa. "Eres rápida, pero no lo suficiente despiadada. Si dejas cabos sueltos así, volverán para morderte. Entonces, pequeña callejera, ¿cómo piensas pagarme esta noche?" Claudia, que podría haber manejado la pelea bien por sí sola, y que ahora de alguna manera le debía algo a este extraño, guardó silencio. Tumbada de espaldas, el rostro surcado de sangre y polvo, de alguna manera parecía irreal en la oscuridad. Sterling frunció el ceño. Sucio. Se inclinó para levantar a la silenciosa rosa a sus pies, entonces algo lo empujó con fuerza. Tropezó, perdió el equilibrio y cayó justo encima de ella. Su peso aplastó su brazo herido; su mano izquierda aterrizó sobre algo más suave. Sus dedos se tensaron y apretaron antes de que su cerebro reaccionara. Se quedó helado. Ella también. Sus ojos se encontraron, muy abiertos en mutua conmoción. A unos metros de distancia, el perro pastor culpable se sentó parpadeando, como diciendo: Por favor, no me vean. Inmovilizada bajo un extraño, con todo dolorido, Claudia respiró hondo y tembloroso. Guapo o no, un grupo seguía siendo un grupo. Su expresión calmada se volvió feroz. Sterling oyó las primeras palabras de la rosa para él esa noche. "¿Nadie te dijo nunca?" "¿Decirme qué?" "Que no metas la nariz en los asuntos de otros." Antes de que la última palabra se desvaneciera, le rodeó el cuello con los brazos y lo tiró hacia abajo. Sus frentes chocaron con un crujido. El dolor se disparó. "¡Agente! ¡Por aquí!" Su voz sonó clara. Segundos después, las sirenas partieron la noche. Los policías vinieron corriendo. Sterling, al darse cuenta de que acababa de ser utilizado, dejó escapar una risa baja e incrédula. "¿Así tratas a tu salvador?" Terminó tumbado exactamente donde ella había estado, su voz goteando sarcasmo. Claudia se puso de pie, medio en sombras, y le dedicó una sonrisa delgada. "Obviamente. Soy la villana desagradecida, ¿recuerdas?" … Esa noche, el chico de oro de Liberty City, el heredero de Romero Corporation, fue llevado a la comisaría. Clint apareció rápido con un abogado, echando miradas furtivas a la chica que despertó la rara misericordia del Segador… y luego lo denunció por acoso. ¿Valiente, verdad? Era hermosa, y claramente no le temía a nada. Una vez que los matones fueron registrados, Clint se preparó, esperando a que Sterling dijera la palabra: Encárgate de ella. En cambio, Sterling dijo: "Averigua quién es." "¿Quién?" La palabra se le escapó antes de que Clint pudiera detenerse. Sterling nunca mostraba interés en ninguna mujer. La sola idea daba miedo. La mirada de Sterling se clavó en él, lo suficientemente afilada para hacerlo callar. "Sí, señor", murmuró Clint rápidamente. Mirando a la chica alejarse a zancadas después de lanzar una última mirada ardiente por encima del hombro, Clint sintió una punzada de lástima. Eso era todo. Ella y toda su familia estaban acabadas. … Ajena a la tormenta que acababa de desatar, Claudia se arrastró a casa al amanecer, perseguida por una ráfaga de llamadas. Su padre, Wilson Lancaster, la recibió en la puerta con una bofetada sonora. "¿Cómo he criado a una hija como tú?" No esquivó a tiempo. Su mejilla pálida enrojeció e hinchó. La habitación se quedó helada. Jasper frunció el ceño, con dolor destellando en sus ojos. Se obligó a no intervenir. Claudia había cruzado la línea esta vez; si no aprendía, quién sabía qué caos provocaría después. Aun así… Wilson había golpeado demasiado fuerte. La visión le retorció algo en el pecho. Lottie, Clarence y Zane llevaban la misma expresión enfadada y decepcionada. En el sofá, los ojos de Lydia brillaban con una alegría mal disimulada. Había estado furiosa la noche anterior porque los cretinos que contrató habían metido la pata y terminado en la comisaría. Por suerte, había cubierto sus huellas. Habían afirmado que fue solo un agarre "en un momento de arrebato", y como no pasó nada grave, no había nada que la vinculara a ella. Había sido dada de alta esa mañana y soltó el cebo que tenía preparado desde hacía tiempo. Los Lancaster se lo tragaron entero. Después de desaparecer toda la noche, nadie preguntó dónde había estado Claudia, ni notó sus heridas. La recibieron con una bofetada. Esa era su familia. Claudia no discutió. Caminó directamente hacia la pequeña Lydia, presumida y satisfecha.
Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now.Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now. Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia Capítulo 1 ¡Bum! Las puertas de la sala del evento se abrieron de golpe. "¡Algo le ha pasado a Lydia!", gritó un hombre al entrar tambaleándose, con el pánico pintado en el rostro. Las palabras impactaron como una bomba. La sala —decorada con flores, lazos y música romántica, bullendo de emoción por la propuesta— quedó instantáneamente en silencio. El hombre en el centro de atención, aún de rodillas, con el anillo en la mano, se giró sobresaltado. "¿Qué acabas de decir?" Quade Zimmer, con su pelo teñido de azul tan estridente como su voz, soltó: "¡La señora Lancaster acaba de llamar! ¡Lydia ha tenido un accidente de coche! ¡Está en el hospital ahora mismo!" Apenas habían salido las palabras de su boca cuando estalló el caos: sillas arrastrándose, tacones repiqueteando, gente apresurándose hacia la puerta. No era una exageración decir que Lydia Wallace era la chica de moda de su círculo: hermosa, talentosa, frágil de esa forma desgarradora que hacía que la gente quisiera protegerla. Todos la adoraban, la compadecían, la veneraban. ¿Y ahora que su diosa estaba herida? A nadie le quedaba corazón para seguir celebrando una propuesta de matrimonio cuya respuesta todos ya conocían. Incluso el chico que proponía lo dejó todo y salió corriendo. "Jasper—" La voz que pronunció su nombre llegó por detrás —suave, apenas más que un suspiro. Fue entonces cuando todos finalmente se dieron cuenta: la mujer a la que le estaban pidiendo matrimonio no había dicho ni una palabra en todo este tiempo. Alguien debió de haber dado a los interruptores en el caos, porque la sala se oscureció. La única luz provenía de las suaves lámparas de la pared. En un rincón, mitad en sombras, mitad en luz, estaba Claudia Lancaster. Su belleza no era del tipo dulce y gentil —era marcada, impactante, inolvidable. Pero en ese momento, su calma resultaba inquietante. Su expresión no revelaba nada. "¿No quieres oír mi respuesta?", preguntó en voz baja. Hacía apenas un minuto, Jasper Fenton le había pedido que se casara con él. Ahora, a medio camino de la puerta, se detuvo en seco. Ni siquiera intentó explicarse. "Claudia, lo siento. Tengo que ir al hospital. Vete a casa primero, ¿vale?" "¿Y si no te dejo ir?" Su voz se mantuvo firme. "Jasper, sabes que la odio." Jasper suspiró, exasperado. "Claudia, ahora no. No es momento para empezar una pelea." "Mi respuesta… puede que solo la obtengas una vez", dijo, tan calmada como siempre. Algo en su tono le hizo hacer una pausa. Normalmente, en cuanto salía el nombre de Lydia, Claudia estallaba —espetando, poniendo los ojos en blanco, maldiciendo a Lydia entre dientes. Pero esta noche, estaba fría, distante. Casi como si lo hubiera estado esperando. Un destello de inquietud le recorrió la espalda a Jasper. "Oh, por favor", intervino Quade, poniendo los ojos en blanco. "Has estado obsesionada con Jasper desde, ¿qué, la secundaria? El tipo finalmente te propone matrimonio y ¿se supone que debemos creer que dirías que no?" "Sí, alguien podría estar muriéndose en serio. Te pueden proponer matrimonio cualquier otro día", añadió alguien más. "¡Exacto! Las familias arreglaron esto hace siglos, toda esta cosa es solo por apariencias." Los comentarios dolían, pero Claudia ni siquiera parpadeó. Sus ojos oscuros permanecieron clavados en Jasper. Esperando. Jasper dejó escapar otro suspiro y volvió hacia ella. Como siempre, le despeinó el cabello como si fuera una niña. "Pórtate bien, ¿vale? No montes una escena. Lydia podría estar gravemente herida. Este no es el momento para una rabieta." Siempre era así. Cada vez que Lydia estaba involucrada, Jasper nunca preguntaba quién tenía razón o no. Corría a consolar a Lydia primero, y luego volvía a regañar a Claudia, suave y paciente, como si fuera una niña mimada que simplemente no entendía. Así se sentía amar a alguien desde abajo. No importaba cuánto gritaras, tu ira era solo "graciosa". Nunca seria. ¿Esta propuesta? Nunca había sido una pregunta real. Jasper ya sabía cuál debería haber sido su respuesta. "¡Oh, al diablo con esto, no puedo quedarme callada más tiempo!" Whitney Sawyer golpeó su bolso de mano contra algo, con furia destellando en sus ojos. Había estado aguantándose desde que Quade irrumpió, pero ya era suficiente. "Jasper, ¿eres su novio o su ambulancia personal? ¿Cómo es que cada vez que Lydia sufre 'un accidente', te llama a ti? Siempre perfectamente sincronizado, siempre arruinando tus planes. ¡La última vez fue una cita, ahora es tu propuesta! ¿Qué, no podía esperar a morirse cinco minutos?" Como mejor amiga de Claudia, Whitney había pasado semanas planeando esta propuesta. Y ahora, una vez más, Lydia la había secuestrado, y Jasper había caído directamente en la trampa. La furia de Whitney se extendió como un incendio forestal. "¡Y el resto de ustedes! ¿Para qué corren, a visitarla o a planear su funeral? ¡A este paso, Lydia ya debería haber muerto cien veces!" "¡Whitney!" El rostro de Jasper se ensombreció; el hombre gentil y afable desapareció. Su voz sonó como un latigazo. "Mide tus palabras." "Oh, perdóname." La voz de Whitney subió de tono, aguda y furiosa. "¿No soportas oír criticar a tu preciosa Lydia? Jasper, ¿acaso recuerdas quién es tu novia?" Los ojos de Jasper se helaron. Claudia le agarró el brazo a Whitney, con voz tranquila pero firme. "Si sales por esa puerta, Jasper, terminamos." Ya se había perdido demasiado tiempo. Jasper se pellizcó el puente de la nariz y suspiró. "No digas algo de lo que te arrepentirás. Claudia, hablaremos cuando vuelva." Se dio la vuelta y salió con paso firme, sin mirar atrás. Ni siquiera sabía lo graves que eran las lesiones de Lydia, solo sabía que tenía que ir. Se dijo a sí mismo: Cuando vuelva, lo compensaré. Le haré una propuesta aún mejor. También tomó nota mental de decirle a Claudia que se alejara de Whitney; claramente esa chica le estaba llenando la cabeza de tonterías. La sala se hundió bajo el peso de todo. Incluso aquellos que pensaban que Claudia estaba siendo dramática se mordieron la lengua. Nadie quería contrariar a Jasper, ni a los Sawyer. Uno a uno, se escabulleron. En minutos, el lugar era irreconocible. Pétalos de rosa aplastados y lazos cubrían el suelo. Botellas de vino rodaban bajo las sillas. Glaseado embadurnaba la alfombra. Toda la escena parecía una parodia de lo que había sido, burlándose de lo ridículo que era todo. Mientras los últimos rezagados se quedaban, alguien frunció el ceño. "Esperen… Lydia es la hija adoptiva de los Lancaster, ¿verdad? Oí que es prima de Claudia. ¿Por qué nadie llamó a Claudia también?" "¿Llamarla? ¿Qué, quieren empeorar aún más las lesiones de Lydia?" "Vaya, ¿qué se supone que significa eso?" "Lo de siempre. Que la señorita Lancaster es fría, cruel, desagradecida… ya sabes cómo va." Los susurros comenzaron de nuevo, suaves, venenosos y familiares. Siempre lo hacían cuando el nombre de Lydia salía junto al de Claudia. El rostro de Whitney ardía de ira. Se volvió hacia Claudia, de repente preocupada. Los cotilleos de extraños no importaban, pero ¿la traición de alguien a quien amas? Eso siempre calaba más hondo. Claudia observó la espalda de Jasper mientras se alejaba, cada paso alejándolo más de ella. Era como ver los años escurriéndose entre sus dedos, el chico con el que había crecido desvaneciéndose a lo lejos. Whitney le había preguntado una vez: Si nada hubiera interrumpido esta noche, ¿habrías dicho que sí? Pero, honestamente: No importara cuál fuera su respuesta, el final habría sido el mismo. Lydia nunca la dejaría ganar. Y Jasper nunca la elegiría a ella. En el momento en que le dio la espalda, no se dio cuenta de que, aunque el futuro pueda parecer interminable, la mujer dispuesta a esperarte no dura para siempre. Jasper… esta vez, realmente te dejo ir. En la mesa, entre el desorden, el teléfono de Claudia vibró. Una notificación de WhatsApp apareció, breve y suficiente. "Perdiste." Capítulo 2 Tres días antes, Lydia había acorralado a Claudia. "Sabes que Jasper está a punto de proponerte matrimonio, ¿verdad?" Sus bonitos ojos brillaban, no de emoción, sino de celos y malicia. "Oí que ambas familias querían pasar directamente a la fiesta de compromiso, pero él insistió en hacerlo bien. Dijo que necesitaba oír tu 'sí' él mismo, o no significaría nada. Ayy, qué romántico, ¿no?" "¿Y qué?" Claudia levantó la vista, su tono plano, sin inmutarse. La sonrisa de Lydia se curvó, afilada y venenosa. "¿Y qué? Claudia, ¿qué hace que una pecadora como tú crea que merece felicidad?" Se inclinó más cerca, con voz azucarada pero goteando veneno. "¿Quieres apostar? En tres días, esa propuesta ni siquiera ocurrirá." Claudia solo la miró fijamente. Para todos los demás, Lydia era pura perfección: de voz suave, gentil, toda gracia y luz. Nadie creería que a puerta cerrada podía escupir veneno así. Podría haber detenido la propuesta en cualquier momento que quisiera. Pero no. A Lydia le gustaba el drama. Quería esperar hasta el acto final, para empujar a Claudia fuera del escenario ella misma. Como siempre hacía. … Después de que la propuesta se fuera al traste, el teléfono de Whitney sonó. Una mirada a la identificación de la llamada, y su rostro se demudó. Maldijo entre dientes y salió corriendo. Había planeado dejar a Claudia primero —Claudia había llegado en el coche de Jasper—, pero cuando Claudia se dio cuenta de que algo pasaba con la madre de Whitney, la instó a irse. Cuando todos los demás se habían ido, Claudia se quedó entre los escombros de flores aplastadas y copas de champán, con la cabeza agachada, su expresión ilegible. Dejó escapar una risita amarga. Era tarde. Las calles afuera estaban tranquilas y vacías. Claudia salió del club sin ganas de ir a casa. Vagó junto al río, el frío de la noche calándole la piel. Entonces, se detuvo en seco. Los vellos de su nuca se erizaron: alguien la seguía. Levantó su teléfono, fingiendo tomar una selfie, inclinándolo lo justo para ver el reflejo detrás de ella. Un grupo de hombres, sombras acercándose. Su pulso se disparó. Empezó a caminar más rápido. Ellos también. Su pulgar se cernió sobre su contacto de emergencia —el número que Jasper la había obligado a configurar hacía un año. En aquel entonces, le había roto el brazo a un acosador por molestar a una chica y había terminado en la comisaría. Jasper la sacó bajo fianza, regañándola durante todo el trayecto a casa por ser imprudente. Se había puesto a sí mismo como su contacto de emergencia, haciéndole prometer que si alguna vez estaba en peligro, lo llamaría a él, sin heroísmos, sin orgullo. Había jurado que sin importar dónde o cuándo, iría por ella. Nunca imaginó que la primera vez que llamaría sería así. "¿Claudia?" La voz de Jasper llegó, baja y cansada. Estaba en el hospital. El accidente de Lydia no había sido grave, pero ella era frágil —nacida prematura, se alteraba fácilmente. Solo él podía calmarla. Todo el clan Lancaster estaba acampado fuera. Lydia acababa de quedarse dormida cuando llegó la llamada, despertándola de un salto. "Jasper, alguien me está siguiendo." Silencio. Luego, su voz, fría, desdeñosa. "Claudia, realmente no puedo irme esta noche. No montes una escena." Pensó que estaba mintiendo, intentando alejarlo otra vez del lado de la cama de Lydia. Justo entonces, la madre de Lydia, Lottie Wallace, entró con un vaso de agua. Su rostro suave y elegante se endureció al ver el teléfono en la mano de Jasper. "¡Claudia!", espetó. "Lydia acaba de tener un accidente, y ni siquiera te molestas en visitar. ¿Ahora estás quién sabe dónde, inventando historias? ¿Cuándo vas a crecer? Escucha: nadie se va esta noche. Deja ya tus juegos mezquinos." Colgó sin dudar. En la cama, Lydia yacía pálida y temblorosa. Su voz era pequeña, vacilante. "Mamá, no te enfades. ¿Y si Claudia realmente está en problemas?" Lottie suspiró, la decepción grabada a fuego. "¿Qué problemas podría tener? Esta no es la primera vez que intenta algo cuando tú estás enferma." En la secundaria, Claudia una vez había llamado a casa en medio de la noche, diciendo que la habían secuestrado y exigiendo dinero de rescate. Esa misma noche, Lydia había caído enferma. La familia ya estaba en pánico, y la supuesta llamada de rescate casi le da un infarto a Lottie. Habían corrido a la ubicación, solo para encontrar a Claudia saliendo ilesa, sin un rasguño. Para cuando volvieron a casa, Lydia se había desplomado en el suelo, sola. Era demasiado tarde cuando finalmente la llevaron al hospital. El doctor dijo que con otro retraso, no habría sobrevivido. Esa noche, el padre de Claudia la había golpeado hasta dejarla sangrando. Pasó un mes en el hospital, y nunca se disculpó. La voz de Lottie se suavizó, cargada de decepción. "¿Cuándo se volvió así mi dulce niña?" Jasper conocía cada palabra de esa historia. Incluso había sido él quien llevaba snacks a escondidas a la cama de Claudia en el hospital después, contando chistes estúpidos para hacerla reír. Pero esta noche era diferente. Se dijo a sí mismo que solo estaba haciendo una rabieta por la propuesta arruinada. No tenía energía para sus pataletas. Mañana, cuando se calmara, hablaría con ella, la haría sonreír de nuevo. Colgó, apartó el cabello de la frente de Lydia y susurró: "Se te ha ido la fiebre. Pórtate bien. Duerme." Los ojos de Lydia brillaron con culpa y suavidad. "Jasper, lo siento por esta noche. Es toda mi culpa. Si no fuera tan débil—" "No. Nunca eres una carga." "Jasper…" "Duerme." Sus pestañas aletearon y se cerraron, y una pequeña sonrisa curvó sus labios. Dormiría tranquila esa noche. … Detrás de Claudia, los hombres se acercaban, lentos, perezosos, como gatos jugando con un ratón. Ella siguió corriendo, la voz de Jasper y el regaño de Lottie resonando en su mente. Tal vez había estado decepcionada demasiadas veces, porque ni siquiera se sentía triste ya, solo vacía. Hueca. La noche de abril era cálida, pero cortaba como cristal. La empujaron a un rincón oscuro. Claudia se detuvo bajo un árbol, su expresión calmada, los ojos bajándose al suelo. Entonces, se movió. Quince minutos después, los hombres yacían esparcidos por el pavimento —brazos retorcidos, piernas rotas, gimiendo de dolor. Claudia, sin aliento y sangrando, se dejó caer en el bordillo. Agarró su teléfono con una mano resbaladiza de sangre y marcó al 911. Después de ese lío en octavo grado, había empezado kickboxing y defensa personal. Había aprendido pronto: nadie vendría a salvarla. Uno de los hombres, con el brazo doblado en la dirección incorrecta, empezó a arrastrarse hacia ella. Los ojos de Claudia se posaron sobre él, fríos y afilados. Antes de que pudiera moverse, una bota cayó con fuerza, enviando al tipo volando. Una sombra se cernió sobre ella: un hombre alto con una sonrisa perezosa y el tipo de rostro que podría salirse con la suya cometiendo un asesinato. La miró desde arriba, haciendo un clic suave con la lengua. "Tss. ¿De dónde ha salido esta criaturita?" Capítulo 3 Sterling Romero salió de la Mansión Romero esa noche, lo suficientemente enfadado como para dejar su coche a medio camino a casa y sacar al perro a pasear. Lo que no esperaba era toparse con esa escena. Allí estaba ella, un capullo de rosa hermoso y malherido, acorralado por una jauría de callejeros desaliñados. Parecía frágil, pero la forma en que levantaba la barbilla, los ojos ardiendo de desafío, lo atrajo directamente de vuelta al cachorro de lobo huérfano con el que había vivido en las montañas casi un mes cuando tenía diez años. Todo fanfarronería y dientes al descubierto, guardando su pequeño trozo de tierra. Débil, pero ardiendo de vida. Ese lobo había muerto por sus manos al final. ¿Y esta chica? Era el mismo tipo de criatura: pequeña, espinosa y lista para hacer sangrar a quien intentara hacerle daño. Su rostro ni siquiera se inmutó mientras rompía los brazos de esos matones como si fueran ramitas. Nada la conmovía. Sterling, que rara vez se preocupaba por nada, sintió un destello de interés que no podía sacudirse. En contra de su mejor juicio, intervino. De cerca, era aún más difícil de olvidar. Esos ojos, oscuros, claros, brillantes como una noche después de la lluvia, se engancharon en algo enterrado profundamente dentro de él. Cuando ella levantó la vista, sobresaltada, había un destello de luz estelar que le hizo picar los dedos, con ganas de alargar la mano, de cubrir esos ojos afilados e intrépidos. Bien. Ya había intervenido. Mejor llevarlo hasta el final. Y, honestamente, necesitaba desahogarse. El callejón se llenó de gritos. Hacía un minuto, esos matones solo estaban demasiado heridos para arrastrarse. ¿Ahora? Estaban hechos pedazos: brazos inútiles, piernas rotas, el pánico espeso en el aire. Se arrepentían de todo. El trabajo había sido simple: golpearla un poco, nada grave. Su jefe incluso les había advertido que no dejaran marcas. Pero ella era demasiado hermosa, y unos cuantos se volvieron codiciosos. ¿Quién podría haber imaginado que la belleza delicada pegaba como un demonio, y lo que era peor, que un hombre como él aparecería de la nada? Frío, letal, como la Muerte misma con un abrigo de diseñador. Si el asesinato fuera legal, estaban seguros de que les habría roto el cuello sin pestañear. El cabecilla ya estaba perdiendo la cabeza. Sterling volvió paseando hasta donde la chica yacía observando desde el suelo. Su tono llevaba un rastro de diversión maliciosa. "Eres rápida, pero no lo suficiente despiadada. Si dejas cabos sueltos así, volverán para morderte. Entonces, pequeña callejera, ¿cómo piensas pagarme esta noche?" Claudia, que podría haber manejado la pelea bien por sí sola, y que ahora de alguna manera le debía algo a este extraño, guardó silencio. Tumbada de espaldas, el rostro surcado de sangre y polvo, de alguna manera parecía irreal en la oscuridad. Sterling frunció el ceño. Sucio. Se inclinó para levantar a la silenciosa rosa a sus pies, entonces algo lo empujó con fuerza. Tropezó, perdió el equilibrio y cayó justo encima de ella. Su peso aplastó su brazo herido; su mano izquierda aterrizó sobre algo más suave. Sus dedos se tensaron y apretaron antes de que su cerebro reaccionara. Se quedó helado. Ella también. Sus ojos se encontraron, muy abiertos en mutua conmoción. A unos metros de distancia, el perro pastor culpable se sentó parpadeando, como diciendo: Por favor, no me vean. Inmovilizada bajo un extraño, con todo dolorido, Claudia respiró hondo y tembloroso. Guapo o no, un grupo seguía siendo un grupo. Su expresión calmada se volvió feroz. Sterling oyó las primeras palabras de la rosa para él esa noche. "¿Nadie te dijo nunca?" "¿Decirme qué?" "Que no metas la nariz en los asuntos de otros." Antes de que la última palabra se desvaneciera, le rodeó el cuello con los brazos y lo tiró hacia abajo. Sus frentes chocaron con un crujido. El dolor se disparó. "¡Agente! ¡Por aquí!" Su voz sonó clara. Segundos después, las sirenas partieron la noche. Los policías vinieron corriendo. Sterling, al darse cuenta de que acababa de ser utilizado, dejó escapar una risa baja e incrédula. "¿Así tratas a tu salvador?" Terminó tumbado exactamente donde ella había estado, su voz goteando sarcasmo. Claudia se puso de pie, medio en sombras, y le dedicó una sonrisa delgada. "Obviamente. Soy la villana desagradecida, ¿recuerdas?" … Esa noche, el chico de oro de Liberty City, el heredero de Romero Corporation, fue llevado a la comisaría. Clint apareció rápido con un abogado, echando miradas furtivas a la chica que despertó la rara misericordia del Segador… y luego lo denunció por acoso. ¿Valiente, verdad? Era hermosa, y claramente no le temía a nada. Una vez que los matones fueron registrados, Clint se preparó, esperando a que Sterling dijera la palabra: Encárgate de ella. En cambio, Sterling dijo: "Averigua quién es." "¿Quién?" La palabra se le escapó antes de que Clint pudiera detenerse. Sterling nunca mostraba interés en ninguna mujer. La sola idea daba miedo. La mirada de Sterling se clavó en él, lo suficientemente afilada para hacerlo callar. "Sí, señor", murmuró Clint rápidamente. Mirando a la chica alejarse a zancadas después de lanzar una última mirada ardiente por encima del hombro, Clint sintió una punzada de lástima. Eso era todo. Ella y toda su familia estaban acabadas. … Ajena a la tormenta que acababa de desatar, Claudia se arrastró a casa al amanecer, perseguida por una ráfaga de llamadas. Su padre, Wilson Lancaster, la recibió en la puerta con una bofetada sonora. "¿Cómo he criado a una hija como tú?" No esquivó a tiempo. Su mejilla pálida enrojeció e hinchó. La habitación se quedó helada. Jasper frunció el ceño, con dolor destellando en sus ojos. Se obligó a no intervenir. Claudia había cruzado la línea esta vez; si no aprendía, quién sabía qué caos provocaría después. Aun así… Wilson había golpeado demasiado fuerte. La visión le retorció algo en el pecho. Lottie, Clarence y Zane llevaban la misma expresión enfadada y decepcionada. En el sofá, los ojos de Lydia brillaban con una alegría mal disimulada. Había estado furiosa la noche anterior porque los cretinos que contrató habían metido la pata y terminado en la comisaría. Por suerte, había cubierto sus huellas. Habían afirmado que fue solo un agarre "en un momento de arrebato", y como no pasó nada grave, no había nada que la vinculara a ella. Había sido dada de alta esa mañana y soltó el cebo que tenía preparado desde hacía tiempo. Los Lancaster se lo tragaron entero. Después de desaparecer toda la noche, nadie preguntó dónde había estado Claudia, ni notó sus heridas. La recibieron con una bofetada. Esa era su familia. Claudia no discutió. Caminó directamente hacia la pequeña Lydia, presumida y satisfecha.
Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now.Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now. Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia Capítulo 1 ¡Bum! Las puertas de la sala del evento se abrieron de golpe. "¡Algo le ha pasado a Lydia!", gritó un hombre al entrar tambaleándose, con el pánico pintado en el rostro. Las palabras impactaron como una bomba. La sala —decorada con flores, lazos y música romántica, bullendo de emoción por la propuesta— quedó instantáneamente en silencio. El hombre en el centro de atención, aún de rodillas, con el anillo en la mano, se giró sobresaltado. "¿Qué acabas de decir?" Quade Zimmer, con su pelo teñido de azul tan estridente como su voz, soltó: "¡La señora Lancaster acaba de llamar! ¡Lydia ha tenido un accidente de coche! ¡Está en el hospital ahora mismo!" Apenas habían salido las palabras de su boca cuando estalló el caos: sillas arrastrándose, tacones repiqueteando, gente apresurándose hacia la puerta. No era una exageración decir que Lydia Wallace era la chica de moda de su círculo: hermosa, talentosa, frágil de esa forma desgarradora que hacía que la gente quisiera protegerla. Todos la adoraban, la compadecían, la veneraban. ¿Y ahora que su diosa estaba herida? A nadie le quedaba corazón para seguir celebrando una propuesta de matrimonio cuya respuesta todos ya conocían. Incluso el chico que proponía lo dejó todo y salió corriendo. "Jasper—" La voz que pronunció su nombre llegó por detrás —suave, apenas más que un suspiro. Fue entonces cuando todos finalmente se dieron cuenta: la mujer a la que le estaban pidiendo matrimonio no había dicho ni una palabra en todo este tiempo. Alguien debió de haber dado a los interruptores en el caos, porque la sala se oscureció. La única luz provenía de las suaves lámparas de la pared. En un rincón, mitad en sombras, mitad en luz, estaba Claudia Lancaster. Su belleza no era del tipo dulce y gentil —era marcada, impactante, inolvidable. Pero en ese momento, su calma resultaba inquietante. Su expresión no revelaba nada. "¿No quieres oír mi respuesta?", preguntó en voz baja. Hacía apenas un minuto, Jasper Fenton le había pedido que se casara con él. Ahora, a medio camino de la puerta, se detuvo en seco. Ni siquiera intentó explicarse. "Claudia, lo siento. Tengo que ir al hospital. Vete a casa primero, ¿vale?" "¿Y si no te dejo ir?" Su voz se mantuvo firme. "Jasper, sabes que la odio." Jasper suspiró, exasperado. "Claudia, ahora no. No es momento para empezar una pelea." "Mi respuesta… puede que solo la obtengas una vez", dijo, tan calmada como siempre. Algo en su tono le hizo hacer una pausa. Normalmente, en cuanto salía el nombre de Lydia, Claudia estallaba —espetando, poniendo los ojos en blanco, maldiciendo a Lydia entre dientes. Pero esta noche, estaba fría, distante. Casi como si lo hubiera estado esperando. Un destello de inquietud le recorrió la espalda a Jasper. "Oh, por favor", intervino Quade, poniendo los ojos en blanco. "Has estado obsesionada con Jasper desde, ¿qué, la secundaria? El tipo finalmente te propone matrimonio y ¿se supone que debemos creer que dirías que no?" "Sí, alguien podría estar muriéndose en serio. Te pueden proponer matrimonio cualquier otro día", añadió alguien más. "¡Exacto! Las familias arreglaron esto hace siglos, toda esta cosa es solo por apariencias." Los comentarios dolían, pero Claudia ni siquiera parpadeó. Sus ojos oscuros permanecieron clavados en Jasper. Esperando. Jasper dejó escapar otro suspiro y volvió hacia ella. Como siempre, le despeinó el cabello como si fuera una niña. "Pórtate bien, ¿vale? No montes una escena. Lydia podría estar gravemente herida. Este no es el momento para una rabieta." Siempre era así. Cada vez que Lydia estaba involucrada, Jasper nunca preguntaba quién tenía razón o no. Corría a consolar a Lydia primero, y luego volvía a regañar a Claudia, suave y paciente, como si fuera una niña mimada que simplemente no entendía. Así se sentía amar a alguien desde abajo. No importaba cuánto gritaras, tu ira era solo "graciosa". Nunca seria. ¿Esta propuesta? Nunca había sido una pregunta real. Jasper ya sabía cuál debería haber sido su respuesta. "¡Oh, al diablo con esto, no puedo quedarme callada más tiempo!" Whitney Sawyer golpeó su bolso de mano contra algo, con furia destellando en sus ojos. Había estado aguantándose desde que Quade irrumpió, pero ya era suficiente. "Jasper, ¿eres su novio o su ambulancia personal? ¿Cómo es que cada vez que Lydia sufre 'un accidente', te llama a ti? Siempre perfectamente sincronizado, siempre arruinando tus planes. ¡La última vez fue una cita, ahora es tu propuesta! ¿Qué, no podía esperar a morirse cinco minutos?" Como mejor amiga de Claudia, Whitney había pasado semanas planeando esta propuesta. Y ahora, una vez más, Lydia la había secuestrado, y Jasper había caído directamente en la trampa. La furia de Whitney se extendió como un incendio forestal. "¡Y el resto de ustedes! ¿Para qué corren, a visitarla o a planear su funeral? ¡A este paso, Lydia ya debería haber muerto cien veces!" "¡Whitney!" El rostro de Jasper se ensombreció; el hombre gentil y afable desapareció. Su voz sonó como un latigazo. "Mide tus palabras." "Oh, perdóname." La voz de Whitney subió de tono, aguda y furiosa. "¿No soportas oír criticar a tu preciosa Lydia? Jasper, ¿acaso recuerdas quién es tu novia?" Los ojos de Jasper se helaron. Claudia le agarró el brazo a Whitney, con voz tranquila pero firme. "Si sales por esa puerta, Jasper, terminamos." Ya se había perdido demasiado tiempo. Jasper se pellizcó el puente de la nariz y suspiró. "No digas algo de lo que te arrepentirás. Claudia, hablaremos cuando vuelva." Se dio la vuelta y salió con paso firme, sin mirar atrás. Ni siquiera sabía lo graves que eran las lesiones de Lydia, solo sabía que tenía que ir. Se dijo a sí mismo: Cuando vuelva, lo compensaré. Le haré una propuesta aún mejor. También tomó nota mental de decirle a Claudia que se alejara de Whitney; claramente esa chica le estaba llenando la cabeza de tonterías. La sala se hundió bajo el peso de todo. Incluso aquellos que pensaban que Claudia estaba siendo dramática se mordieron la lengua. Nadie quería contrariar a Jasper, ni a los Sawyer. Uno a uno, se escabulleron. En minutos, el lugar era irreconocible. Pétalos de rosa aplastados y lazos cubrían el suelo. Botellas de vino rodaban bajo las sillas. Glaseado embadurnaba la alfombra. Toda la escena parecía una parodia de lo que había sido, burlándose de lo ridículo que era todo. Mientras los últimos rezagados se quedaban, alguien frunció el ceño. "Esperen… Lydia es la hija adoptiva de los Lancaster, ¿verdad? Oí que es prima de Claudia. ¿Por qué nadie llamó a Claudia también?" "¿Llamarla? ¿Qué, quieren empeorar aún más las lesiones de Lydia?" "Vaya, ¿qué se supone que significa eso?" "Lo de siempre. Que la señorita Lancaster es fría, cruel, desagradecida… ya sabes cómo va." Los susurros comenzaron de nuevo, suaves, venenosos y familiares. Siempre lo hacían cuando el nombre de Lydia salía junto al de Claudia. El rostro de Whitney ardía de ira. Se volvió hacia Claudia, de repente preocupada. Los cotilleos de extraños no importaban, pero ¿la traición de alguien a quien amas? Eso siempre calaba más hondo. Claudia observó la espalda de Jasper mientras se alejaba, cada paso alejándolo más de ella. Era como ver los años escurriéndose entre sus dedos, el chico con el que había crecido desvaneciéndose a lo lejos. Whitney le había preguntado una vez: Si nada hubiera interrumpido esta noche, ¿habrías dicho que sí? Pero, honestamente: No importara cuál fuera su respuesta, el final habría sido el mismo. Lydia nunca la dejaría ganar. Y Jasper nunca la elegiría a ella. En el momento en que le dio la espalda, no se dio cuenta de que, aunque el futuro pueda parecer interminable, la mujer dispuesta a esperarte no dura para siempre. Jasper… esta vez, realmente te dejo ir. En la mesa, entre el desorden, el teléfono de Claudia vibró. Una notificación de WhatsApp apareció, breve y suficiente. "Perdiste." Capítulo 2 Tres días antes, Lydia había acorralado a Claudia. "Sabes que Jasper está a punto de proponerte matrimonio, ¿verdad?" Sus bonitos ojos brillaban, no de emoción, sino de celos y malicia. "Oí que ambas familias querían pasar directamente a la fiesta de compromiso, pero él insistió en hacerlo bien. Dijo que necesitaba oír tu 'sí' él mismo, o no significaría nada. Ayy, qué romántico, ¿no?" "¿Y qué?" Claudia levantó la vista, su tono plano, sin inmutarse. La sonrisa de Lydia se curvó, afilada y venenosa. "¿Y qué? Claudia, ¿qué hace que una pecadora como tú crea que merece felicidad?" Se inclinó más cerca, con voz azucarada pero goteando veneno. "¿Quieres apostar? En tres días, esa propuesta ni siquiera ocurrirá." Claudia solo la miró fijamente. Para todos los demás, Lydia era pura perfección: de voz suave, gentil, toda gracia y luz. Nadie creería que a puerta cerrada podía escupir veneno así. Podría haber detenido la propuesta en cualquier momento que quisiera. Pero no. A Lydia le gustaba el drama. Quería esperar hasta el acto final, para empujar a Claudia fuera del escenario ella misma. Como siempre hacía. … Después de que la propuesta se fuera al traste, el teléfono de Whitney sonó. Una mirada a la identificación de la llamada, y su rostro se demudó. Maldijo entre dientes y salió corriendo. Había planeado dejar a Claudia primero —Claudia había llegado en el coche de Jasper—, pero cuando Claudia se dio cuenta de que algo pasaba con la madre de Whitney, la instó a irse. Cuando todos los demás se habían ido, Claudia se quedó entre los escombros de flores aplastadas y copas de champán, con la cabeza agachada, su expresión ilegible. Dejó escapar una risita amarga. Era tarde. Las calles afuera estaban tranquilas y vacías. Claudia salió del club sin ganas de ir a casa. Vagó junto al río, el frío de la noche calándole la piel. Entonces, se detuvo en seco. Los vellos de su nuca se erizaron: alguien la seguía. Levantó su teléfono, fingiendo tomar una selfie, inclinándolo lo justo para ver el reflejo detrás de ella. Un grupo de hombres, sombras acercándose. Su pulso se disparó. Empezó a caminar más rápido. Ellos también. Su pulgar se cernió sobre su contacto de emergencia —el número que Jasper la había obligado a configurar hacía un año. En aquel entonces, le había roto el brazo a un acosador por molestar a una chica y había terminado en la comisaría. Jasper la sacó bajo fianza, regañándola durante todo el trayecto a casa por ser imprudente. Se había puesto a sí mismo como su contacto de emergencia, haciéndole prometer que si alguna vez estaba en peligro, lo llamaría a él, sin heroísmos, sin orgullo. Había jurado que sin importar dónde o cuándo, iría por ella. Nunca imaginó que la primera vez que llamaría sería así. "¿Claudia?" La voz de Jasper llegó, baja y cansada. Estaba en el hospital. El accidente de Lydia no había sido grave, pero ella era frágil —nacida prematura, se alteraba fácilmente. Solo él podía calmarla. Todo el clan Lancaster estaba acampado fuera. Lydia acababa de quedarse dormida cuando llegó la llamada, despertándola de un salto. "Jasper, alguien me está siguiendo." Silencio. Luego, su voz, fría, desdeñosa. "Claudia, realmente no puedo irme esta noche. No montes una escena." Pensó que estaba mintiendo, intentando alejarlo otra vez del lado de la cama de Lydia. Justo entonces, la madre de Lydia, Lottie Wallace, entró con un vaso de agua. Su rostro suave y elegante se endureció al ver el teléfono en la mano de Jasper. "¡Claudia!", espetó. "Lydia acaba de tener un accidente, y ni siquiera te molestas en visitar. ¿Ahora estás quién sabe dónde, inventando historias? ¿Cuándo vas a crecer? Escucha: nadie se va esta noche. Deja ya tus juegos mezquinos." Colgó sin dudar. En la cama, Lydia yacía pálida y temblorosa. Su voz era pequeña, vacilante. "Mamá, no te enfades. ¿Y si Claudia realmente está en problemas?" Lottie suspiró, la decepción grabada a fuego. "¿Qué problemas podría tener? Esta no es la primera vez que intenta algo cuando tú estás enferma." En la secundaria, Claudia una vez había llamado a casa en medio de la noche, diciendo que la habían secuestrado y exigiendo dinero de rescate. Esa misma noche, Lydia había caído enferma. La familia ya estaba en pánico, y la supuesta llamada de rescate casi le da un infarto a Lottie. Habían corrido a la ubicación, solo para encontrar a Claudia saliendo ilesa, sin un rasguño. Para cuando volvieron a casa, Lydia se había desplomado en el suelo, sola. Era demasiado tarde cuando finalmente la llevaron al hospital. El doctor dijo que con otro retraso, no habría sobrevivido. Esa noche, el padre de Claudia la había golpeado hasta dejarla sangrando. Pasó un mes en el hospital, y nunca se disculpó. La voz de Lottie se suavizó, cargada de decepción. "¿Cuándo se volvió así mi dulce niña?" Jasper conocía cada palabra de esa historia. Incluso había sido él quien llevaba snacks a escondidas a la cama de Claudia en el hospital después, contando chistes estúpidos para hacerla reír. Pero esta noche era diferente. Se dijo a sí mismo que solo estaba haciendo una rabieta por la propuesta arruinada. No tenía energía para sus pataletas. Mañana, cuando se calmara, hablaría con ella, la haría sonreír de nuevo. Colgó, apartó el cabello de la frente de Lydia y susurró: "Se te ha ido la fiebre. Pórtate bien. Duerme." Los ojos de Lydia brillaron con culpa y suavidad. "Jasper, lo siento por esta noche. Es toda mi culpa. Si no fuera tan débil—" "No. Nunca eres una carga." "Jasper…" "Duerme." Sus pestañas aletearon y se cerraron, y una pequeña sonrisa curvó sus labios. Dormiría tranquila esa noche. … Detrás de Claudia, los hombres se acercaban, lentos, perezosos, como gatos jugando con un ratón. Ella siguió corriendo, la voz de Jasper y el regaño de Lottie resonando en su mente. Tal vez había estado decepcionada demasiadas veces, porque ni siquiera se sentía triste ya, solo vacía. Hueca. La noche de abril era cálida, pero cortaba como cristal. La empujaron a un rincón oscuro. Claudia se detuvo bajo un árbol, su expresión calmada, los ojos bajándose al suelo. Entonces, se movió. Quince minutos después, los hombres yacían esparcidos por el pavimento —brazos retorcidos, piernas rotas, gimiendo de dolor. Claudia, sin aliento y sangrando, se dejó caer en el bordillo. Agarró su teléfono con una mano resbaladiza de sangre y marcó al 911. Después de ese lío en octavo grado, había empezado kickboxing y defensa personal. Había aprendido pronto: nadie vendría a salvarla. Uno de los hombres, con el brazo doblado en la dirección incorrecta, empezó a arrastrarse hacia ella. Los ojos de Claudia se posaron sobre él, fríos y afilados. Antes de que pudiera moverse, una bota cayó con fuerza, enviando al tipo volando. Una sombra se cernió sobre ella: un hombre alto con una sonrisa perezosa y el tipo de rostro que podría salirse con la suya cometiendo un asesinato. La miró desde arriba, haciendo un clic suave con la lengua. "Tss. ¿De dónde ha salido esta criaturita?" Capítulo 3 Sterling Romero salió de la Mansión Romero esa noche, lo suficientemente enfadado como para dejar su coche a medio camino a casa y sacar al perro a pasear. Lo que no esperaba era toparse con esa escena. Allí estaba ella, un capullo de rosa hermoso y malherido, acorralado por una jauría de callejeros desaliñados. Parecía frágil, pero la forma en que levantaba la barbilla, los ojos ardiendo de desafío, lo atrajo directamente de vuelta al cachorro de lobo huérfano con el que había vivido en las montañas casi un mes cuando tenía diez años. Todo fanfarronería y dientes al descubierto, guardando su pequeño trozo de tierra. Débil, pero ardiendo de vida. Ese lobo había muerto por sus manos al final. ¿Y esta chica? Era el mismo tipo de criatura: pequeña, espinosa y lista para hacer sangrar a quien intentara hacerle daño. Su rostro ni siquiera se inmutó mientras rompía los brazos de esos matones como si fueran ramitas. Nada la conmovía. Sterling, que rara vez se preocupaba por nada, sintió un destello de interés que no podía sacudirse. En contra de su mejor juicio, intervino. De cerca, era aún más difícil de olvidar. Esos ojos, oscuros, claros, brillantes como una noche después de la lluvia, se engancharon en algo enterrado profundamente dentro de él. Cuando ella levantó la vista, sobresaltada, había un destello de luz estelar que le hizo picar los dedos, con ganas de alargar la mano, de cubrir esos ojos afilados e intrépidos. Bien. Ya había intervenido. Mejor llevarlo hasta el final. Y, honestamente, necesitaba desahogarse. El callejón se llenó de gritos. Hacía un minuto, esos matones solo estaban demasiado heridos para arrastrarse. ¿Ahora? Estaban hechos pedazos: brazos inútiles, piernas rotas, el pánico espeso en el aire. Se arrepentían de todo. El trabajo había sido simple: golpearla un poco, nada grave. Su jefe incluso les había advertido que no dejaran marcas. Pero ella era demasiado hermosa, y unos cuantos se volvieron codiciosos. ¿Quién podría haber imaginado que la belleza delicada pegaba como un demonio, y lo que era peor, que un hombre como él aparecería de la nada? Frío, letal, como la Muerte misma con un abrigo de diseñador. Si el asesinato fuera legal, estaban seguros de que les habría roto el cuello sin pestañear. El cabecilla ya estaba perdiendo la cabeza. Sterling volvió paseando hasta donde la chica yacía observando desde el suelo. Su tono llevaba un rastro de diversión maliciosa. "Eres rápida, pero no lo suficiente despiadada. Si dejas cabos sueltos así, volverán para morderte. Entonces, pequeña callejera, ¿cómo piensas pagarme esta noche?" Claudia, que podría haber manejado la pelea bien por sí sola, y que ahora de alguna manera le debía algo a este extraño, guardó silencio. Tumbada de espaldas, el rostro surcado de sangre y polvo, de alguna manera parecía irreal en la oscuridad. Sterling frunció el ceño. Sucio. Se inclinó para levantar a la silenciosa rosa a sus pies, entonces algo lo empujó con fuerza. Tropezó, perdió el equilibrio y cayó justo encima de ella. Su peso aplastó su brazo herido; su mano izquierda aterrizó sobre algo más suave. Sus dedos se tensaron y apretaron antes de que su cerebro reaccionara. Se quedó helado. Ella también. Sus ojos se encontraron, muy abiertos en mutua conmoción. A unos metros de distancia, el perro pastor culpable se sentó parpadeando, como diciendo: Por favor, no me vean. Inmovilizada bajo un extraño, con todo dolorido, Claudia respiró hondo y tembloroso. Guapo o no, un grupo seguía siendo un grupo. Su expresión calmada se volvió feroz. Sterling oyó las primeras palabras de la rosa para él esa noche. "¿Nadie te dijo nunca?" "¿Decirme qué?" "Que no metas la nariz en los asuntos de otros." Antes de que la última palabra se desvaneciera, le rodeó el cuello con los brazos y lo tiró hacia abajo. Sus frentes chocaron con un crujido. El dolor se disparó. "¡Agente! ¡Por aquí!" Su voz sonó clara. Segundos después, las sirenas partieron la noche. Los policías vinieron corriendo. Sterling, al darse cuenta de que acababa de ser utilizado, dejó escapar una risa baja e incrédula. "¿Así tratas a tu salvador?" Terminó tumbado exactamente donde ella había estado, su voz goteando sarcasmo. Claudia se puso de pie, medio en sombras, y le dedicó una sonrisa delgada. "Obviamente. Soy la villana desagradecida, ¿recuerdas?" … Esa noche, el chico de oro de Liberty City, el heredero de Romero Corporation, fue llevado a la comisaría. Clint apareció rápido con un abogado, echando miradas furtivas a la chica que despertó la rara misericordia del Segador… y luego lo denunció por acoso. ¿Valiente, verdad? Era hermosa, y claramente no le temía a nada. Una vez que los matones fueron registrados, Clint se preparó, esperando a que Sterling dijera la palabra: Encárgate de ella. En cambio, Sterling dijo: "Averigua quién es." "¿Quién?" La palabra se le escapó antes de que Clint pudiera detenerse. Sterling nunca mostraba interés en ninguna mujer. La sola idea daba miedo. La mirada de Sterling se clavó en él, lo suficientemente afilada para hacerlo callar. "Sí, señor", murmuró Clint rápidamente. Mirando a la chica alejarse a zancadas después de lanzar una última mirada ardiente por encima del hombro, Clint sintió una punzada de lástima. Eso era todo. Ella y toda su familia estaban acabadas. … Ajena a la tormenta que acababa de desatar, Claudia se arrastró a casa al amanecer, perseguida por una ráfaga de llamadas. Su padre, Wilson Lancaster, la recibió en la puerta con una bofetada sonora. "¿Cómo he criado a una hija como tú?" No esquivó a tiempo. Su mejilla pálida enrojeció e hinchó. La habitación se quedó helada. Jasper frunció el ceño, con dolor destellando en sus ojos. Se obligó a no intervenir. Claudia había cruzado la línea esta vez; si no aprendía, quién sabía qué caos provocaría después. Aun así… Wilson había golpeado demasiado fuerte. La visión le retorció algo en el pecho. Lottie, Clarence y Zane llevaban la misma expresión enfadada y decepcionada. En el sofá, los ojos de Lydia brillaban con una alegría mal disimulada. Había estado furiosa la noche anterior porque los cretinos que contrató habían metido la pata y terminado en la comisaría. Por suerte, había cubierto sus huellas. Habían afirmado que fue solo un agarre "en un momento de arrebato", y como no pasó nada grave, no había nada que la vinculara a ella. Había sido dada de alta esa mañana y soltó el cebo que tenía preparado desde hacía tiempo. Los Lancaster se lo tragaron entero. Después de desaparecer toda la noche, nadie preguntó dónde había estado Claudia, ni notó sus heridas. La recibieron con una bofetada. Esa era su familia. Claudia no discutió. Caminó directamente hacia la pequeña Lydia, presumida y satisfecha.
Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now.Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now. Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia Capítulo 1 ¡Bum! Las puertas de la sala del evento se abrieron de golpe. "¡Algo le ha pasado a Lydia!", gritó un hombre al entrar tambaleándose, con el pánico pintado en el rostro. Las palabras impactaron como una bomba. La sala —decorada con flores, lazos y música romántica, bullendo de emoción por la propuesta— quedó instantáneamente en silencio. El hombre en el centro de atención, aún de rodillas, con el anillo en la mano, se giró sobresaltado. "¿Qué acabas de decir?" Quade Zimmer, con su pelo teñido de azul tan estridente como su voz, soltó: "¡La señora Lancaster acaba de llamar! ¡Lydia ha tenido un accidente de coche! ¡Está en el hospital ahora mismo!" Apenas habían salido las palabras de su boca cuando estalló el caos: sillas arrastrándose, tacones repiqueteando, gente apresurándose hacia la puerta. No era una exageración decir que Lydia Wallace era la chica de moda de su círculo: hermosa, talentosa, frágil de esa forma desgarradora que hacía que la gente quisiera protegerla. Todos la adoraban, la compadecían, la veneraban. ¿Y ahora que su diosa estaba herida? A nadie le quedaba corazón para seguir celebrando una propuesta de matrimonio cuya respuesta todos ya conocían. Incluso el chico que proponía lo dejó todo y salió corriendo. "Jasper—" La voz que pronunció su nombre llegó por detrás —suave, apenas más que un suspiro. Fue entonces cuando todos finalmente se dieron cuenta: la mujer a la que le estaban pidiendo matrimonio no había dicho ni una palabra en todo este tiempo. Alguien debió de haber dado a los interruptores en el caos, porque la sala se oscureció. La única luz provenía de las suaves lámparas de la pared. En un rincón, mitad en sombras, mitad en luz, estaba Claudia Lancaster. Su belleza no era del tipo dulce y gentil —era marcada, impactante, inolvidable. Pero en ese momento, su calma resultaba inquietante. Su expresión no revelaba nada. "¿No quieres oír mi respuesta?", preguntó en voz baja. Hacía apenas un minuto, Jasper Fenton le había pedido que se casara con él. Ahora, a medio camino de la puerta, se detuvo en seco. Ni siquiera intentó explicarse. "Claudia, lo siento. Tengo que ir al hospital. Vete a casa primero, ¿vale?" "¿Y si no te dejo ir?" Su voz se mantuvo firme. "Jasper, sabes que la odio." Jasper suspiró, exasperado. "Claudia, ahora no. No es momento para empezar una pelea." "Mi respuesta… puede que solo la obtengas una vez", dijo, tan calmada como siempre. Algo en su tono le hizo hacer una pausa. Normalmente, en cuanto salía el nombre de Lydia, Claudia estallaba —espetando, poniendo los ojos en blanco, maldiciendo a Lydia entre dientes. Pero esta noche, estaba fría, distante. Casi como si lo hubiera estado esperando. Un destello de inquietud le recorrió la espalda a Jasper. "Oh, por favor", intervino Quade, poniendo los ojos en blanco. "Has estado obsesionada con Jasper desde, ¿qué, la secundaria? El tipo finalmente te propone matrimonio y ¿se supone que debemos creer que dirías que no?" "Sí, alguien podría estar muriéndose en serio. Te pueden proponer matrimonio cualquier otro día", añadió alguien más. "¡Exacto! Las familias arreglaron esto hace siglos, toda esta cosa es solo por apariencias." Los comentarios dolían, pero Claudia ni siquiera parpadeó. Sus ojos oscuros permanecieron clavados en Jasper. Esperando. Jasper dejó escapar otro suspiro y volvió hacia ella. Como siempre, le despeinó el cabello como si fuera una niña. "Pórtate bien, ¿vale? No montes una escena. Lydia podría estar gravemente herida. Este no es el momento para una rabieta." Siempre era así. Cada vez que Lydia estaba involucrada, Jasper nunca preguntaba quién tenía razón o no. Corría a consolar a Lydia primero, y luego volvía a regañar a Claudia, suave y paciente, como si fuera una niña mimada que simplemente no entendía. Así se sentía amar a alguien desde abajo. No importaba cuánto gritaras, tu ira era solo "graciosa". Nunca seria. ¿Esta propuesta? Nunca había sido una pregunta real. Jasper ya sabía cuál debería haber sido su respuesta. "¡Oh, al diablo con esto, no puedo quedarme callada más tiempo!" Whitney Sawyer golpeó su bolso de mano contra algo, con furia destellando en sus ojos. Había estado aguantándose desde que Quade irrumpió, pero ya era suficiente. "Jasper, ¿eres su novio o su ambulancia personal? ¿Cómo es que cada vez que Lydia sufre 'un accidente', te llama a ti? Siempre perfectamente sincronizado, siempre arruinando tus planes. ¡La última vez fue una cita, ahora es tu propuesta! ¿Qué, no podía esperar a morirse cinco minutos?" Como mejor amiga de Claudia, Whitney había pasado semanas planeando esta propuesta. Y ahora, una vez más, Lydia la había secuestrado, y Jasper había caído directamente en la trampa. La furia de Whitney se extendió como un incendio forestal. "¡Y el resto de ustedes! ¿Para qué corren, a visitarla o a planear su funeral? ¡A este paso, Lydia ya debería haber muerto cien veces!" "¡Whitney!" El rostro de Jasper se ensombreció; el hombre gentil y afable desapareció. Su voz sonó como un latigazo. "Mide tus palabras." "Oh, perdóname." La voz de Whitney subió de tono, aguda y furiosa. "¿No soportas oír criticar a tu preciosa Lydia? Jasper, ¿acaso recuerdas quién es tu novia?" Los ojos de Jasper se helaron. Claudia le agarró el brazo a Whitney, con voz tranquila pero firme. "Si sales por esa puerta, Jasper, terminamos." Ya se había perdido demasiado tiempo. Jasper se pellizcó el puente de la nariz y suspiró. "No digas algo de lo que te arrepentirás. Claudia, hablaremos cuando vuelva." Se dio la vuelta y salió con paso firme, sin mirar atrás. Ni siquiera sabía lo graves que eran las lesiones de Lydia, solo sabía que tenía que ir. Se dijo a sí mismo: Cuando vuelva, lo compensaré. Le haré una propuesta aún mejor. También tomó nota mental de decirle a Claudia que se alejara de Whitney; claramente esa chica le estaba llenando la cabeza de tonterías. La sala se hundió bajo el peso de todo. Incluso aquellos que pensaban que Claudia estaba siendo dramática se mordieron la lengua. Nadie quería contrariar a Jasper, ni a los Sawyer. Uno a uno, se escabulleron. En minutos, el lugar era irreconocible. Pétalos de rosa aplastados y lazos cubrían el suelo. Botellas de vino rodaban bajo las sillas. Glaseado embadurnaba la alfombra. Toda la escena parecía una parodia de lo que había sido, burlándose de lo ridículo que era todo. Mientras los últimos rezagados se quedaban, alguien frunció el ceño. "Esperen… Lydia es la hija adoptiva de los Lancaster, ¿verdad? Oí que es prima de Claudia. ¿Por qué nadie llamó a Claudia también?" "¿Llamarla? ¿Qué, quieren empeorar aún más las lesiones de Lydia?" "Vaya, ¿qué se supone que significa eso?" "Lo de siempre. Que la señorita Lancaster es fría, cruel, desagradecida… ya sabes cómo va." Los susurros comenzaron de nuevo, suaves, venenosos y familiares. Siempre lo hacían cuando el nombre de Lydia salía junto al de Claudia. El rostro de Whitney ardía de ira. Se volvió hacia Claudia, de repente preocupada. Los cotilleos de extraños no importaban, pero ¿la traición de alguien a quien amas? Eso siempre calaba más hondo. Claudia observó la espalda de Jasper mientras se alejaba, cada paso alejándolo más de ella. Era como ver los años escurriéndose entre sus dedos, el chico con el que había crecido desvaneciéndose a lo lejos. Whitney le había preguntado una vez: Si nada hubiera interrumpido esta noche, ¿habrías dicho que sí? Pero, honestamente: No importara cuál fuera su respuesta, el final habría sido el mismo. Lydia nunca la dejaría ganar. Y Jasper nunca la elegiría a ella. En el momento en que le dio la espalda, no se dio cuenta de que, aunque el futuro pueda parecer interminable, la mujer dispuesta a esperarte no dura para siempre. Jasper… esta vez, realmente te dejo ir. En la mesa, entre el desorden, el teléfono de Claudia vibró. Una notificación de WhatsApp apareció, breve y suficiente. "Perdiste." Capítulo 2 Tres días antes, Lydia había acorralado a Claudia. "Sabes que Jasper está a punto de proponerte matrimonio, ¿verdad?" Sus bonitos ojos brillaban, no de emoción, sino de celos y malicia. "Oí que ambas familias querían pasar directamente a la fiesta de compromiso, pero él insistió en hacerlo bien. Dijo que necesitaba oír tu 'sí' él mismo, o no significaría nada. Ayy, qué romántico, ¿no?" "¿Y qué?" Claudia levantó la vista, su tono plano, sin inmutarse. La sonrisa de Lydia se curvó, afilada y venenosa. "¿Y qué? Claudia, ¿qué hace que una pecadora como tú crea que merece felicidad?" Se inclinó más cerca, con voz azucarada pero goteando veneno. "¿Quieres apostar? En tres días, esa propuesta ni siquiera ocurrirá." Claudia solo la miró fijamente. Para todos los demás, Lydia era pura perfección: de voz suave, gentil, toda gracia y luz. Nadie creería que a puerta cerrada podía escupir veneno así. Podría haber detenido la propuesta en cualquier momento que quisiera. Pero no. A Lydia le gustaba el drama. Quería esperar hasta el acto final, para empujar a Claudia fuera del escenario ella misma. Como siempre hacía. … Después de que la propuesta se fuera al traste, el teléfono de Whitney sonó. Una mirada a la identificación de la llamada, y su rostro se demudó. Maldijo entre dientes y salió corriendo. Había planeado dejar a Claudia primero —Claudia había llegado en el coche de Jasper—, pero cuando Claudia se dio cuenta de que algo pasaba con la madre de Whitney, la instó a irse. Cuando todos los demás se habían ido, Claudia se quedó entre los escombros de flores aplastadas y copas de champán, con la cabeza agachada, su expresión ilegible. Dejó escapar una risita amarga. Era tarde. Las calles afuera estaban tranquilas y vacías. Claudia salió del club sin ganas de ir a casa. Vagó junto al río, el frío de la noche calándole la piel. Entonces, se detuvo en seco. Los vellos de su nuca se erizaron: alguien la seguía. Levantó su teléfono, fingiendo tomar una selfie, inclinándolo lo justo para ver el reflejo detrás de ella. Un grupo de hombres, sombras acercándose. Su pulso se disparó. Empezó a caminar más rápido. Ellos también. Su pulgar se cernió sobre su contacto de emergencia —el número que Jasper la había obligado a configurar hacía un año. En aquel entonces, le había roto el brazo a un acosador por molestar a una chica y había terminado en la comisaría. Jasper la sacó bajo fianza, regañándola durante todo el trayecto a casa por ser imprudente. Se había puesto a sí mismo como su contacto de emergencia, haciéndole prometer que si alguna vez estaba en peligro, lo llamaría a él, sin heroísmos, sin orgullo. Había jurado que sin importar dónde o cuándo, iría por ella. Nunca imaginó que la primera vez que llamaría sería así. "¿Claudia?" La voz de Jasper llegó, baja y cansada. Estaba en el hospital. El accidente de Lydia no había sido grave, pero ella era frágil —nacida prematura, se alteraba fácilmente. Solo él podía calmarla. Todo el clan Lancaster estaba acampado fuera. Lydia acababa de quedarse dormida cuando llegó la llamada, despertándola de un salto. "Jasper, alguien me está siguiendo." Silencio. Luego, su voz, fría, desdeñosa. "Claudia, realmente no puedo irme esta noche. No montes una escena." Pensó que estaba mintiendo, intentando alejarlo otra vez del lado de la cama de Lydia. Justo entonces, la madre de Lydia, Lottie Wallace, entró con un vaso de agua. Su rostro suave y elegante se endureció al ver el teléfono en la mano de Jasper. "¡Claudia!", espetó. "Lydia acaba de tener un accidente, y ni siquiera te molestas en visitar. ¿Ahora estás quién sabe dónde, inventando historias? ¿Cuándo vas a crecer? Escucha: nadie se va esta noche. Deja ya tus juegos mezquinos." Colgó sin dudar. En la cama, Lydia yacía pálida y temblorosa. Su voz era pequeña, vacilante. "Mamá, no te enfades. ¿Y si Claudia realmente está en problemas?" Lottie suspiró, la decepción grabada a fuego. "¿Qué problemas podría tener? Esta no es la primera vez que intenta algo cuando tú estás enferma." En la secundaria, Claudia una vez había llamado a casa en medio de la noche, diciendo que la habían secuestrado y exigiendo dinero de rescate. Esa misma noche, Lydia había caído enferma. La familia ya estaba en pánico, y la supuesta llamada de rescate casi le da un infarto a Lottie. Habían corrido a la ubicación, solo para encontrar a Claudia saliendo ilesa, sin un rasguño. Para cuando volvieron a casa, Lydia se había desplomado en el suelo, sola. Era demasiado tarde cuando finalmente la llevaron al hospital. El doctor dijo que con otro retraso, no habría sobrevivido. Esa noche, el padre de Claudia la había golpeado hasta dejarla sangrando. Pasó un mes en el hospital, y nunca se disculpó. La voz de Lottie se suavizó, cargada de decepción. "¿Cuándo se volvió así mi dulce niña?" Jasper conocía cada palabra de esa historia. Incluso había sido él quien llevaba snacks a escondidas a la cama de Claudia en el hospital después, contando chistes estúpidos para hacerla reír. Pero esta noche era diferente. Se dijo a sí mismo que solo estaba haciendo una rabieta por la propuesta arruinada. No tenía energía para sus pataletas. Mañana, cuando se calmara, hablaría con ella, la haría sonreír de nuevo. Colgó, apartó el cabello de la frente de Lydia y susurró: "Se te ha ido la fiebre. Pórtate bien. Duerme." Los ojos de Lydia brillaron con culpa y suavidad. "Jasper, lo siento por esta noche. Es toda mi culpa. Si no fuera tan débil—" "No. Nunca eres una carga." "Jasper…" "Duerme." Sus pestañas aletearon y se cerraron, y una pequeña sonrisa curvó sus labios. Dormiría tranquila esa noche. … Detrás de Claudia, los hombres se acercaban, lentos, perezosos, como gatos jugando con un ratón. Ella siguió corriendo, la voz de Jasper y el regaño de Lottie resonando en su mente. Tal vez había estado decepcionada demasiadas veces, porque ni siquiera se sentía triste ya, solo vacía. Hueca. La noche de abril era cálida, pero cortaba como cristal. La empujaron a un rincón oscuro. Claudia se detuvo bajo un árbol, su expresión calmada, los ojos bajándose al suelo. Entonces, se movió. Quince minutos después, los hombres yacían esparcidos por el pavimento —brazos retorcidos, piernas rotas, gimiendo de dolor. Claudia, sin aliento y sangrando, se dejó caer en el bordillo. Agarró su teléfono con una mano resbaladiza de sangre y marcó al 911. Después de ese lío en octavo grado, había empezado kickboxing y defensa personal. Había aprendido pronto: nadie vendría a salvarla. Uno de los hombres, con el brazo doblado en la dirección incorrecta, empezó a arrastrarse hacia ella. Los ojos de Claudia se posaron sobre él, fríos y afilados. Antes de que pudiera moverse, una bota cayó con fuerza, enviando al tipo volando. Una sombra se cernió sobre ella: un hombre alto con una sonrisa perezosa y el tipo de rostro que podría salirse con la suya cometiendo un asesinato. La miró desde arriba, haciendo un clic suave con la lengua. "Tss. ¿De dónde ha salido esta criaturita?" Capítulo 3 Sterling Romero salió de la Mansión Romero esa noche, lo suficientemente enfadado como para dejar su coche a medio camino a casa y sacar al perro a pasear. Lo que no esperaba era toparse con esa escena. Allí estaba ella, un capullo de rosa hermoso y malherido, acorralado por una jauría de callejeros desaliñados. Parecía frágil, pero la forma en que levantaba la barbilla, los ojos ardiendo de desafío, lo atrajo directamente de vuelta al cachorro de lobo huérfano con el que había vivido en las montañas casi un mes cuando tenía diez años. Todo fanfarronería y dientes al descubierto, guardando su pequeño trozo de tierra. Débil, pero ardiendo de vida. Ese lobo había muerto por sus manos al final. ¿Y esta chica? Era el mismo tipo de criatura: pequeña, espinosa y lista para hacer sangrar a quien intentara hacerle daño. Su rostro ni siquiera se inmutó mientras rompía los brazos de esos matones como si fueran ramitas. Nada la conmovía. Sterling, que rara vez se preocupaba por nada, sintió un destello de interés que no podía sacudirse. En contra de su mejor juicio, intervino. De cerca, era aún más difícil de olvidar. Esos ojos, oscuros, claros, brillantes como una noche después de la lluvia, se engancharon en algo enterrado profundamente dentro de él. Cuando ella levantó la vista, sobresaltada, había un destello de luz estelar que le hizo picar los dedos, con ganas de alargar la mano, de cubrir esos ojos afilados e intrépidos. Bien. Ya había intervenido. Mejor llevarlo hasta el final. Y, honestamente, necesitaba desahogarse. El callejón se llenó de gritos. Hacía un minuto, esos matones solo estaban demasiado heridos para arrastrarse. ¿Ahora? Estaban hechos pedazos: brazos inútiles, piernas rotas, el pánico espeso en el aire. Se arrepentían de todo. El trabajo había sido simple: golpearla un poco, nada grave. Su jefe incluso les había advertido que no dejaran marcas. Pero ella era demasiado hermosa, y unos cuantos se volvieron codiciosos. ¿Quién podría haber imaginado que la belleza delicada pegaba como un demonio, y lo que era peor, que un hombre como él aparecería de la nada? Frío, letal, como la Muerte misma con un abrigo de diseñador. Si el asesinato fuera legal, estaban seguros de que les habría roto el cuello sin pestañear. El cabecilla ya estaba perdiendo la cabeza. Sterling volvió paseando hasta donde la chica yacía observando desde el suelo. Su tono llevaba un rastro de diversión maliciosa. "Eres rápida, pero no lo suficiente despiadada. Si dejas cabos sueltos así, volverán para morderte. Entonces, pequeña callejera, ¿cómo piensas pagarme esta noche?" Claudia, que podría haber manejado la pelea bien por sí sola, y que ahora de alguna manera le debía algo a este extraño, guardó silencio. Tumbada de espaldas, el rostro surcado de sangre y polvo, de alguna manera parecía irreal en la oscuridad. Sterling frunció el ceño. Sucio. Se inclinó para levantar a la silenciosa rosa a sus pies, entonces algo lo empujó con fuerza. Tropezó, perdió el equilibrio y cayó justo encima de ella. Su peso aplastó su brazo herido; su mano izquierda aterrizó sobre algo más suave. Sus dedos se tensaron y apretaron antes de que su cerebro reaccionara. Se quedó helado. Ella también. Sus ojos se encontraron, muy abiertos en mutua conmoción. A unos metros de distancia, el perro pastor culpable se sentó parpadeando, como diciendo: Por favor, no me vean. Inmovilizada bajo un extraño, con todo dolorido, Claudia respiró hondo y tembloroso. Guapo o no, un grupo seguía siendo un grupo. Su expresión calmada se volvió feroz. Sterling oyó las primeras palabras de la rosa para él esa noche. "¿Nadie te dijo nunca?" "¿Decirme qué?" "Que no metas la nariz en los asuntos de otros." Antes de que la última palabra se desvaneciera, le rodeó el cuello con los brazos y lo tiró hacia abajo. Sus frentes chocaron con un crujido. El dolor se disparó. "¡Agente! ¡Por aquí!" Su voz sonó clara. Segundos después, las sirenas partieron la noche. Los policías vinieron corriendo. Sterling, al darse cuenta de que acababa de ser utilizado, dejó escapar una risa baja e incrédula. "¿Así tratas a tu salvador?" Terminó tumbado exactamente donde ella había estado, su voz goteando sarcasmo. Claudia se puso de pie, medio en sombras, y le dedicó una sonrisa delgada. "Obviamente. Soy la villana desagradecida, ¿recuerdas?" … Esa noche, el chico de oro de Liberty City, el heredero de Romero Corporation, fue llevado a la comisaría. Clint apareció rápido con un abogado, echando miradas furtivas a la chica que despertó la rara misericordia del Segador… y luego lo denunció por acoso. ¿Valiente, verdad? Era hermosa, y claramente no le temía a nada. Una vez que los matones fueron registrados, Clint se preparó, esperando a que Sterling dijera la palabra: Encárgate de ella. En cambio, Sterling dijo: "Averigua quién es." "¿Quién?" La palabra se le escapó antes de que Clint pudiera detenerse. Sterling nunca mostraba interés en ninguna mujer. La sola idea daba miedo. La mirada de Sterling se clavó en él, lo suficientemente afilada para hacerlo callar. "Sí, señor", murmuró Clint rápidamente. Mirando a la chica alejarse a zancadas después de lanzar una última mirada ardiente por encima del hombro, Clint sintió una punzada de lástima. Eso era todo. Ella y toda su familia estaban acabadas. … Ajena a la tormenta que acababa de desatar, Claudia se arrastró a casa al amanecer, perseguida por una ráfaga de llamadas. Su padre, Wilson Lancaster, la recibió en la puerta con una bofetada sonora. "¿Cómo he criado a una hija como tú?" No esquivó a tiempo. Su mejilla pálida enrojeció e hinchó. La habitación se quedó helada. Jasper frunció el ceño, con dolor destellando en sus ojos. Se obligó a no intervenir. Claudia había cruzado la línea esta vez; si no aprendía, quién sabía qué caos provocaría después. Aun así… Wilson había golpeado demasiado fuerte. La visión le retorció algo en el pecho. Lottie, Clarence y Zane llevaban la misma expresión enfadada y decepcionada. En el sofá, los ojos de Lydia brillaban con una alegría mal disimulada. Había estado furiosa la noche anterior porque los cretinos que contrató habían metido la pata y terminado en la comisaría. Por suerte, había cubierto sus huellas. Habían afirmado que fue solo un agarre "en un momento de arrebato", y como no pasó nada grave, no había nada que la vinculara a ella. Había sido dada de alta esa mañana y soltó el cebo que tenía preparado desde hacía tiempo. Los Lancaster se lo tragaron entero. Después de desaparecer toda la noche, nadie preguntó dónde había estado Claudia, ni notó sus heridas. La recibieron con una bofetada. Esa era su familia. Claudia no discutió. Caminó directamente hacia la pequeña Lydia, presumida y satisfecha.
Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now.Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now. Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia Capítulo 1 ¡Bum! Las puertas de la sala del evento se abrieron de golpe. "¡Algo le ha pasado a Lydia!", gritó un hombre al entrar tambaleándose, con el pánico pintado en el rostro. Las palabras impactaron como una bomba. La sala —decorada con flores, lazos y música romántica, bullendo de emoción por la propuesta— quedó instantáneamente en silencio. El hombre en el centro de atención, aún de rodillas, con el anillo en la mano, se giró sobresaltado. "¿Qué acabas de decir?" Quade Zimmer, con su pelo teñido de azul tan estridente como su voz, soltó: "¡La señora Lancaster acaba de llamar! ¡Lydia ha tenido un accidente de coche! ¡Está en el hospital ahora mismo!" Apenas habían salido las palabras de su boca cuando estalló el caos: sillas arrastrándose, tacones repiqueteando, gente apresurándose hacia la puerta. No era una exageración decir que Lydia Wallace era la chica de moda de su círculo: hermosa, talentosa, frágil de esa forma desgarradora que hacía que la gente quisiera protegerla. Todos la adoraban, la compadecían, la veneraban. ¿Y ahora que su diosa estaba herida? A nadie le quedaba corazón para seguir celebrando una propuesta de matrimonio cuya respuesta todos ya conocían. Incluso el chico que proponía lo dejó todo y salió corriendo. "Jasper—" La voz que pronunció su nombre llegó por detrás —suave, apenas más que un suspiro. Fue entonces cuando todos finalmente se dieron cuenta: la mujer a la que le estaban pidiendo matrimonio no había dicho ni una palabra en todo este tiempo. Alguien debió de haber dado a los interruptores en el caos, porque la sala se oscureció. La única luz provenía de las suaves lámparas de la pared. En un rincón, mitad en sombras, mitad en luz, estaba Claudia Lancaster. Su belleza no era del tipo dulce y gentil —era marcada, impactante, inolvidable. Pero en ese momento, su calma resultaba inquietante. Su expresión no revelaba nada. "¿No quieres oír mi respuesta?", preguntó en voz baja. Hacía apenas un minuto, Jasper Fenton le había pedido que se casara con él. Ahora, a medio camino de la puerta, se detuvo en seco. Ni siquiera intentó explicarse. "Claudia, lo siento. Tengo que ir al hospital. Vete a casa primero, ¿vale?" "¿Y si no te dejo ir?" Su voz se mantuvo firme. "Jasper, sabes que la odio." Jasper suspiró, exasperado. "Claudia, ahora no. No es momento para empezar una pelea." "Mi respuesta… puede que solo la obtengas una vez", dijo, tan calmada como siempre. Algo en su tono le hizo hacer una pausa. Normalmente, en cuanto salía el nombre de Lydia, Claudia estallaba —espetando, poniendo los ojos en blanco, maldiciendo a Lydia entre dientes. Pero esta noche, estaba fría, distante. Casi como si lo hubiera estado esperando. Un destello de inquietud le recorrió la espalda a Jasper. "Oh, por favor", intervino Quade, poniendo los ojos en blanco. "Has estado obsesionada con Jasper desde, ¿qué, la secundaria? El tipo finalmente te propone matrimonio y ¿se supone que debemos creer que dirías que no?" "Sí, alguien podría estar muriéndose en serio. Te pueden proponer matrimonio cualquier otro día", añadió alguien más. "¡Exacto! Las familias arreglaron esto hace siglos, toda esta cosa es solo por apariencias." Los comentarios dolían, pero Claudia ni siquiera parpadeó. Sus ojos oscuros permanecieron clavados en Jasper. Esperando. Jasper dejó escapar otro suspiro y volvió hacia ella. Como siempre, le despeinó el cabello como si fuera una niña. "Pórtate bien, ¿vale? No montes una escena. Lydia podría estar gravemente herida. Este no es el momento para una rabieta." Siempre era así. Cada vez que Lydia estaba involucrada, Jasper nunca preguntaba quién tenía razón o no. Corría a consolar a Lydia primero, y luego volvía a regañar a Claudia, suave y paciente, como si fuera una niña mimada que simplemente no entendía. Así se sentía amar a alguien desde abajo. No importaba cuánto gritaras, tu ira era solo "graciosa". Nunca seria. ¿Esta propuesta? Nunca había sido una pregunta real. Jasper ya sabía cuál debería haber sido su respuesta. "¡Oh, al diablo con esto, no puedo quedarme callada más tiempo!" Whitney Sawyer golpeó su bolso de mano contra algo, con furia destellando en sus ojos. Había estado aguantándose desde que Quade irrumpió, pero ya era suficiente. "Jasper, ¿eres su novio o su ambulancia personal? ¿Cómo es que cada vez que Lydia sufre 'un accidente', te llama a ti? Siempre perfectamente sincronizado, siempre arruinando tus planes. ¡La última vez fue una cita, ahora es tu propuesta! ¿Qué, no podía esperar a morirse cinco minutos?" Como mejor amiga de Claudia, Whitney había pasado semanas planeando esta propuesta. Y ahora, una vez más, Lydia la había secuestrado, y Jasper había caído directamente en la trampa. La furia de Whitney se extendió como un incendio forestal. "¡Y el resto de ustedes! ¿Para qué corren, a visitarla o a planear su funeral? ¡A este paso, Lydia ya debería haber muerto cien veces!" "¡Whitney!" El rostro de Jasper se ensombreció; el hombre gentil y afable desapareció. Su voz sonó como un latigazo. "Mide tus palabras." "Oh, perdóname." La voz de Whitney subió de tono, aguda y furiosa. "¿No soportas oír criticar a tu preciosa Lydia? Jasper, ¿acaso recuerdas quién es tu novia?" Los ojos de Jasper se helaron. Claudia le agarró el brazo a Whitney, con voz tranquila pero firme. "Si sales por esa puerta, Jasper, terminamos." Ya se había perdido demasiado tiempo. Jasper se pellizcó el puente de la nariz y suspiró. "No digas algo de lo que te arrepentirás. Claudia, hablaremos cuando vuelva." Se dio la vuelta y salió con paso firme, sin mirar atrás. Ni siquiera sabía lo graves que eran las lesiones de Lydia, solo sabía que tenía que ir. Se dijo a sí mismo: Cuando vuelva, lo compensaré. Le haré una propuesta aún mejor. También tomó nota mental de decirle a Claudia que se alejara de Whitney; claramente esa chica le estaba llenando la cabeza de tonterías. La sala se hundió bajo el peso de todo. Incluso aquellos que pensaban que Claudia estaba siendo dramática se mordieron la lengua. Nadie quería contrariar a Jasper, ni a los Sawyer. Uno a uno, se escabulleron. En minutos, el lugar era irreconocible. Pétalos de rosa aplastados y lazos cubrían el suelo. Botellas de vino rodaban bajo las sillas. Glaseado embadurnaba la alfombra. Toda la escena parecía una parodia de lo que había sido, burlándose de lo ridículo que era todo. Mientras los últimos rezagados se quedaban, alguien frunció el ceño. "Esperen… Lydia es la hija adoptiva de los Lancaster, ¿verdad? Oí que es prima de Claudia. ¿Por qué nadie llamó a Claudia también?" "¿Llamarla? ¿Qué, quieren empeorar aún más las lesiones de Lydia?" "Vaya, ¿qué se supone que significa eso?" "Lo de siempre. Que la señorita Lancaster es fría, cruel, desagradecida… ya sabes cómo va." Los susurros comenzaron de nuevo, suaves, venenosos y familiares. Siempre lo hacían cuando el nombre de Lydia salía junto al de Claudia. El rostro de Whitney ardía de ira. Se volvió hacia Claudia, de repente preocupada. Los cotilleos de extraños no importaban, pero ¿la traición de alguien a quien amas? Eso siempre calaba más hondo. Claudia observó la espalda de Jasper mientras se alejaba, cada paso alejándolo más de ella. Era como ver los años escurriéndose entre sus dedos, el chico con el que había crecido desvaneciéndose a lo lejos. Whitney le había preguntado una vez: Si nada hubiera interrumpido esta noche, ¿habrías dicho que sí? Pero, honestamente: No importara cuál fuera su respuesta, el final habría sido el mismo. Lydia nunca la dejaría ganar. Y Jasper nunca la elegiría a ella. En el momento en que le dio la espalda, no se dio cuenta de que, aunque el futuro pueda parecer interminable, la mujer dispuesta a esperarte no dura para siempre. Jasper… esta vez, realmente te dejo ir. En la mesa, entre el desorden, el teléfono de Claudia vibró. Una notificación de WhatsApp apareció, breve y suficiente. "Perdiste." Capítulo 2 Tres días antes, Lydia había acorralado a Claudia. "Sabes que Jasper está a punto de proponerte matrimonio, ¿verdad?" Sus bonitos ojos brillaban, no de emoción, sino de celos y malicia. "Oí que ambas familias querían pasar directamente a la fiesta de compromiso, pero él insistió en hacerlo bien. Dijo que necesitaba oír tu 'sí' él mismo, o no significaría nada. Ayy, qué romántico, ¿no?" "¿Y qué?" Claudia levantó la vista, su tono plano, sin inmutarse. La sonrisa de Lydia se curvó, afilada y venenosa. "¿Y qué? Claudia, ¿qué hace que una pecadora como tú crea que merece felicidad?" Se inclinó más cerca, con voz azucarada pero goteando veneno. "¿Quieres apostar? En tres días, esa propuesta ni siquiera ocurrirá." Claudia solo la miró fijamente. Para todos los demás, Lydia era pura perfección: de voz suave, gentil, toda gracia y luz. Nadie creería que a puerta cerrada podía escupir veneno así. Podría haber detenido la propuesta en cualquier momento que quisiera. Pero no. A Lydia le gustaba el drama. Quería esperar hasta el acto final, para empujar a Claudia fuera del escenario ella misma. Como siempre hacía. … Después de que la propuesta se fuera al traste, el teléfono de Whitney sonó. Una mirada a la identificación de la llamada, y su rostro se demudó. Maldijo entre dientes y salió corriendo. Había planeado dejar a Claudia primero —Claudia había llegado en el coche de Jasper—, pero cuando Claudia se dio cuenta de que algo pasaba con la madre de Whitney, la instó a irse. Cuando todos los demás se habían ido, Claudia se quedó entre los escombros de flores aplastadas y copas de champán, con la cabeza agachada, su expresión ilegible. Dejó escapar una risita amarga. Era tarde. Las calles afuera estaban tranquilas y vacías. Claudia salió del club sin ganas de ir a casa. Vagó junto al río, el frío de la noche calándole la piel. Entonces, se detuvo en seco. Los vellos de su nuca se erizaron: alguien la seguía. Levantó su teléfono, fingiendo tomar una selfie, inclinándolo lo justo para ver el reflejo detrás de ella. Un grupo de hombres, sombras acercándose. Su pulso se disparó. Empezó a caminar más rápido. Ellos también. Su pulgar se cernió sobre su contacto de emergencia —el número que Jasper la había obligado a configurar hacía un año. En aquel entonces, le había roto el brazo a un acosador por molestar a una chica y había terminado en la comisaría. Jasper la sacó bajo fianza, regañándola durante todo el trayecto a casa por ser imprudente. Se había puesto a sí mismo como su contacto de emergencia, haciéndole prometer que si alguna vez estaba en peligro, lo llamaría a él, sin heroísmos, sin orgullo. Había jurado que sin importar dónde o cuándo, iría por ella. Nunca imaginó que la primera vez que llamaría sería así. "¿Claudia?" La voz de Jasper llegó, baja y cansada. Estaba en el hospital. El accidente de Lydia no había sido grave, pero ella era frágil —nacida prematura, se alteraba fácilmente. Solo él podía calmarla. Todo el clan Lancaster estaba acampado fuera. Lydia acababa de quedarse dormida cuando llegó la llamada, despertándola de un salto. "Jasper, alguien me está siguiendo." Silencio. Luego, su voz, fría, desdeñosa. "Claudia, realmente no puedo irme esta noche. No montes una escena." Pensó que estaba mintiendo, intentando alejarlo otra vez del lado de la cama de Lydia. Justo entonces, la madre de Lydia, Lottie Wallace, entró con un vaso de agua. Su rostro suave y elegante se endureció al ver el teléfono en la mano de Jasper. "¡Claudia!", espetó. "Lydia acaba de tener un accidente, y ni siquiera te molestas en visitar. ¿Ahora estás quién sabe dónde, inventando historias? ¿Cuándo vas a crecer? Escucha: nadie se va esta noche. Deja ya tus juegos mezquinos." Colgó sin dudar. En la cama, Lydia yacía pálida y temblorosa. Su voz era pequeña, vacilante. "Mamá, no te enfades. ¿Y si Claudia realmente está en problemas?" Lottie suspiró, la decepción grabada a fuego. "¿Qué problemas podría tener? Esta no es la primera vez que intenta algo cuando tú estás enferma." En la secundaria, Claudia una vez había llamado a casa en medio de la noche, diciendo que la habían secuestrado y exigiendo dinero de rescate. Esa misma noche, Lydia había caído enferma. La familia ya estaba en pánico, y la supuesta llamada de rescate casi le da un infarto a Lottie. Habían corrido a la ubicación, solo para encontrar a Claudia saliendo ilesa, sin un rasguño. Para cuando volvieron a casa, Lydia se había desplomado en el suelo, sola. Era demasiado tarde cuando finalmente la llevaron al hospital. El doctor dijo que con otro retraso, no habría sobrevivido. Esa noche, el padre de Claudia la había golpeado hasta dejarla sangrando. Pasó un mes en el hospital, y nunca se disculpó. La voz de Lottie se suavizó, cargada de decepción. "¿Cuándo se volvió así mi dulce niña?" Jasper conocía cada palabra de esa historia. Incluso había sido él quien llevaba snacks a escondidas a la cama de Claudia en el hospital después, contando chistes estúpidos para hacerla reír. Pero esta noche era diferente. Se dijo a sí mismo que solo estaba haciendo una rabieta por la propuesta arruinada. No tenía energía para sus pataletas. Mañana, cuando se calmara, hablaría con ella, la haría sonreír de nuevo. Colgó, apartó el cabello de la frente de Lydia y susurró: "Se te ha ido la fiebre. Pórtate bien. Duerme." Los ojos de Lydia brillaron con culpa y suavidad. "Jasper, lo siento por esta noche. Es toda mi culpa. Si no fuera tan débil—" "No. Nunca eres una carga." "Jasper…" "Duerme." Sus pestañas aletearon y se cerraron, y una pequeña sonrisa curvó sus labios. Dormiría tranquila esa noche. … Detrás de Claudia, los hombres se acercaban, lentos, perezosos, como gatos jugando con un ratón. Ella siguió corriendo, la voz de Jasper y el regaño de Lottie resonando en su mente. Tal vez había estado decepcionada demasiadas veces, porque ni siquiera se sentía triste ya, solo vacía. Hueca. La noche de abril era cálida, pero cortaba como cristal. La empujaron a un rincón oscuro. Claudia se detuvo bajo un árbol, su expresión calmada, los ojos bajándose al suelo. Entonces, se movió. Quince minutos después, los hombres yacían esparcidos por el pavimento —brazos retorcidos, piernas rotas, gimiendo de dolor. Claudia, sin aliento y sangrando, se dejó caer en el bordillo. Agarró su teléfono con una mano resbaladiza de sangre y marcó al 911. Después de ese lío en octavo grado, había empezado kickboxing y defensa personal. Había aprendido pronto: nadie vendría a salvarla. Uno de los hombres, con el brazo doblado en la dirección incorrecta, empezó a arrastrarse hacia ella. Los ojos de Claudia se posaron sobre él, fríos y afilados. Antes de que pudiera moverse, una bota cayó con fuerza, enviando al tipo volando. Una sombra se cernió sobre ella: un hombre alto con una sonrisa perezosa y el tipo de rostro que podría salirse con la suya cometiendo un asesinato. La miró desde arriba, haciendo un clic suave con la lengua. "Tss. ¿De dónde ha salido esta criaturita?" Capítulo 3 Sterling Romero salió de la Mansión Romero esa noche, lo suficientemente enfadado como para dejar su coche a medio camino a casa y sacar al perro a pasear. Lo que no esperaba era toparse con esa escena. Allí estaba ella, un capullo de rosa hermoso y malherido, acorralado por una jauría de callejeros desaliñados. Parecía frágil, pero la forma en que levantaba la barbilla, los ojos ardiendo de desafío, lo atrajo directamente de vuelta al cachorro de lobo huérfano con el que había vivido en las montañas casi un mes cuando tenía diez años. Todo fanfarronería y dientes al descubierto, guardando su pequeño trozo de tierra. Débil, pero ardiendo de vida. Ese lobo había muerto por sus manos al final. ¿Y esta chica? Era el mismo tipo de criatura: pequeña, espinosa y lista para hacer sangrar a quien intentara hacerle daño. Su rostro ni siquiera se inmutó mientras rompía los brazos de esos matones como si fueran ramitas. Nada la conmovía. Sterling, que rara vez se preocupaba por nada, sintió un destello de interés que no podía sacudirse. En contra de su mejor juicio, intervino. De cerca, era aún más difícil de olvidar. Esos ojos, oscuros, claros, brillantes como una noche después de la lluvia, se engancharon en algo enterrado profundamente dentro de él. Cuando ella levantó la vista, sobresaltada, había un destello de luz estelar que le hizo picar los dedos, con ganas de alargar la mano, de cubrir esos ojos afilados e intrépidos. Bien. Ya había intervenido. Mejor llevarlo hasta el final. Y, honestamente, necesitaba desahogarse. El callejón se llenó de gritos. Hacía un minuto, esos matones solo estaban demasiado heridos para arrastrarse. ¿Ahora? Estaban hechos pedazos: brazos inútiles, piernas rotas, el pánico espeso en el aire. Se arrepentían de todo. El trabajo había sido simple: golpearla un poco, nada grave. Su jefe incluso les había advertido que no dejaran marcas. Pero ella era demasiado hermosa, y unos cuantos se volvieron codiciosos. ¿Quién podría haber imaginado que la belleza delicada pegaba como un demonio, y lo que era peor, que un hombre como él aparecería de la nada? Frío, letal, como la Muerte misma con un abrigo de diseñador. Si el asesinato fuera legal, estaban seguros de que les habría roto el cuello sin pestañear. El cabecilla ya estaba perdiendo la cabeza. Sterling volvió paseando hasta donde la chica yacía observando desde el suelo. Su tono llevaba un rastro de diversión maliciosa. "Eres rápida, pero no lo suficiente despiadada. Si dejas cabos sueltos así, volverán para morderte. Entonces, pequeña callejera, ¿cómo piensas pagarme esta noche?" Claudia, que podría haber manejado la pelea bien por sí sola, y que ahora de alguna manera le debía algo a este extraño, guardó silencio. Tumbada de espaldas, el rostro surcado de sangre y polvo, de alguna manera parecía irreal en la oscuridad. Sterling frunció el ceño. Sucio. Se inclinó para levantar a la silenciosa rosa a sus pies, entonces algo lo empujó con fuerza. Tropezó, perdió el equilibrio y cayó justo encima de ella. Su peso aplastó su brazo herido; su mano izquierda aterrizó sobre algo más suave. Sus dedos se tensaron y apretaron antes de que su cerebro reaccionara. Se quedó helado. Ella también. Sus ojos se encontraron, muy abiertos en mutua conmoción. A unos metros de distancia, el perro pastor culpable se sentó parpadeando, como diciendo: Por favor, no me vean. Inmovilizada bajo un extraño, con todo dolorido, Claudia respiró hondo y tembloroso. Guapo o no, un grupo seguía siendo un grupo. Su expresión calmada se volvió feroz. Sterling oyó las primeras palabras de la rosa para él esa noche. "¿Nadie te dijo nunca?" "¿Decirme qué?" "Que no metas la nariz en los asuntos de otros." Antes de que la última palabra se desvaneciera, le rodeó el cuello con los brazos y lo tiró hacia abajo. Sus frentes chocaron con un crujido. El dolor se disparó. "¡Agente! ¡Por aquí!" Su voz sonó clara. Segundos después, las sirenas partieron la noche. Los policías vinieron corriendo. Sterling, al darse cuenta de que acababa de ser utilizado, dejó escapar una risa baja e incrédula. "¿Así tratas a tu salvador?" Terminó tumbado exactamente donde ella había estado, su voz goteando sarcasmo. Claudia se puso de pie, medio en sombras, y le dedicó una sonrisa delgada. "Obviamente. Soy la villana desagradecida, ¿recuerdas?" … Esa noche, el chico de oro de Liberty City, el heredero de Romero Corporation, fue llevado a la comisaría. Clint apareció rápido con un abogado, echando miradas furtivas a la chica que despertó la rara misericordia del Segador… y luego lo denunció por acoso. ¿Valiente, verdad? Era hermosa, y claramente no le temía a nada. Una vez que los matones fueron registrados, Clint se preparó, esperando a que Sterling dijera la palabra: Encárgate de ella. En cambio, Sterling dijo: "Averigua quién es." "¿Quién?" La palabra se le escapó antes de que Clint pudiera detenerse. Sterling nunca mostraba interés en ninguna mujer. La sola idea daba miedo. La mirada de Sterling se clavó en él, lo suficientemente afilada para hacerlo callar. "Sí, señor", murmuró Clint rápidamente. Mirando a la chica alejarse a zancadas después de lanzar una última mirada ardiente por encima del hombro, Clint sintió una punzada de lástima. Eso era todo. Ella y toda su familia estaban acabadas. … Ajena a la tormenta que acababa de desatar, Claudia se arrastró a casa al amanecer, perseguida por una ráfaga de llamadas. Su padre, Wilson Lancaster, la recibió en la puerta con una bofetada sonora. "¿Cómo he criado a una hija como tú?" No esquivó a tiempo. Su mejilla pálida enrojeció e hinchó. La habitación se quedó helada. Jasper frunció el ceño, con dolor destellando en sus ojos. Se obligó a no intervenir. Claudia había cruzado la línea esta vez; si no aprendía, quién sabía qué caos provocaría después. Aun así… Wilson había golpeado demasiado fuerte. La visión le retorció algo en el pecho. Lottie, Clarence y Zane llevaban la misma expresión enfadada y decepcionada. En el sofá, los ojos de Lydia brillaban con una alegría mal disimulada. Había estado furiosa la noche anterior porque los cretinos que contrató habían metido la pata y terminado en la comisaría. Por suerte, había cubierto sus huellas. Habían afirmado que fue solo un agarre "en un momento de arrebato", y como no pasó nada grave, no había nada que la vinculara a ella. Había sido dada de alta esa mañana y soltó el cebo que tenía preparado desde hacía tiempo. Los Lancaster se lo tragaron entero. Después de desaparecer toda la noche, nadie preguntó dónde había estado Claudia, ni notó sus heridas. La recibieron con una bofetada. Esa era su familia. Claudia no discutió. Caminó directamente hacia la pequeña Lydia, presumida y satisfecha.
Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now.Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now. Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia Capítulo 1 ¡Bum! Las puertas de la sala del evento se abrieron de golpe. "¡Algo le ha pasado a Lydia!", gritó un hombre al entrar tambaleándose, con el pánico pintado en el rostro. Las palabras impactaron como una bomba. La sala —decorada con flores, lazos y música romántica, bullendo de emoción por la propuesta— quedó instantáneamente en silencio. El hombre en el centro de atención, aún de rodillas, con el anillo en la mano, se giró sobresaltado. "¿Qué acabas de decir?" Quade Zimmer, con su pelo teñido de azul tan estridente como su voz, soltó: "¡La señora Lancaster acaba de llamar! ¡Lydia ha tenido un accidente de coche! ¡Está en el hospital ahora mismo!" Apenas habían salido las palabras de su boca cuando estalló el caos: sillas arrastrándose, tacones repiqueteando, gente apresurándose hacia la puerta. No era una exageración decir que Lydia Wallace era la chica de moda de su círculo: hermosa, talentosa, frágil de esa forma desgarradora que hacía que la gente quisiera protegerla. Todos la adoraban, la compadecían, la veneraban. ¿Y ahora que su diosa estaba herida? A nadie le quedaba corazón para seguir celebrando una propuesta de matrimonio cuya respuesta todos ya conocían. Incluso el chico que proponía lo dejó todo y salió corriendo. "Jasper—" La voz que pronunció su nombre llegó por detrás —suave, apenas más que un suspiro. Fue entonces cuando todos finalmente se dieron cuenta: la mujer a la que le estaban pidiendo matrimonio no había dicho ni una palabra en todo este tiempo. Alguien debió de haber dado a los interruptores en el caos, porque la sala se oscureció. La única luz provenía de las suaves lámparas de la pared. En un rincón, mitad en sombras, mitad en luz, estaba Claudia Lancaster. Su belleza no era del tipo dulce y gentil —era marcada, impactante, inolvidable. Pero en ese momento, su calma resultaba inquietante. Su expresión no revelaba nada. "¿No quieres oír mi respuesta?", preguntó en voz baja. Hacía apenas un minuto, Jasper Fenton le había pedido que se casara con él. Ahora, a medio camino de la puerta, se detuvo en seco. Ni siquiera intentó explicarse. "Claudia, lo siento. Tengo que ir al hospital. Vete a casa primero, ¿vale?" "¿Y si no te dejo ir?" Su voz se mantuvo firme. "Jasper, sabes que la odio." Jasper suspiró, exasperado. "Claudia, ahora no. No es momento para empezar una pelea." "Mi respuesta… puede que solo la obtengas una vez", dijo, tan calmada como siempre. Algo en su tono le hizo hacer una pausa. Normalmente, en cuanto salía el nombre de Lydia, Claudia estallaba —espetando, poniendo los ojos en blanco, maldiciendo a Lydia entre dientes. Pero esta noche, estaba fría, distante. Casi como si lo hubiera estado esperando. Un destello de inquietud le recorrió la espalda a Jasper. "Oh, por favor", intervino Quade, poniendo los ojos en blanco. "Has estado obsesionada con Jasper desde, ¿qué, la secundaria? El tipo finalmente te propone matrimonio y ¿se supone que debemos creer que dirías que no?" "Sí, alguien podría estar muriéndose en serio. Te pueden proponer matrimonio cualquier otro día", añadió alguien más. "¡Exacto! Las familias arreglaron esto hace siglos, toda esta cosa es solo por apariencias." Los comentarios dolían, pero Claudia ni siquiera parpadeó. Sus ojos oscuros permanecieron clavados en Jasper. Esperando. Jasper dejó escapar otro suspiro y volvió hacia ella. Como siempre, le despeinó el cabello como si fuera una niña. "Pórtate bien, ¿vale? No montes una escena. Lydia podría estar gravemente herida. Este no es el momento para una rabieta." Siempre era así. Cada vez que Lydia estaba involucrada, Jasper nunca preguntaba quién tenía razón o no. Corría a consolar a Lydia primero, y luego volvía a regañar a Claudia, suave y paciente, como si fuera una niña mimada que simplemente no entendía. Así se sentía amar a alguien desde abajo. No importaba cuánto gritaras, tu ira era solo "graciosa". Nunca seria. ¿Esta propuesta? Nunca había sido una pregunta real. Jasper ya sabía cuál debería haber sido su respuesta. "¡Oh, al diablo con esto, no puedo quedarme callada más tiempo!" Whitney Sawyer golpeó su bolso de mano contra algo, con furia destellando en sus ojos. Había estado aguantándose desde que Quade irrumpió, pero ya era suficiente. "Jasper, ¿eres su novio o su ambulancia personal? ¿Cómo es que cada vez que Lydia sufre 'un accidente', te llama a ti? Siempre perfectamente sincronizado, siempre arruinando tus planes. ¡La última vez fue una cita, ahora es tu propuesta! ¿Qué, no podía esperar a morirse cinco minutos?" Como mejor amiga de Claudia, Whitney había pasado semanas planeando esta propuesta. Y ahora, una vez más, Lydia la había secuestrado, y Jasper había caído directamente en la trampa. La furia de Whitney se extendió como un incendio forestal. "¡Y el resto de ustedes! ¿Para qué corren, a visitarla o a planear su funeral? ¡A este paso, Lydia ya debería haber muerto cien veces!" "¡Whitney!" El rostro de Jasper se ensombreció; el hombre gentil y afable desapareció. Su voz sonó como un latigazo. "Mide tus palabras." "Oh, perdóname." La voz de Whitney subió de tono, aguda y furiosa. "¿No soportas oír criticar a tu preciosa Lydia? Jasper, ¿acaso recuerdas quién es tu novia?" Los ojos de Jasper se helaron. Claudia le agarró el brazo a Whitney, con voz tranquila pero firme. "Si sales por esa puerta, Jasper, terminamos." Ya se había perdido demasiado tiempo. Jasper se pellizcó el puente de la nariz y suspiró. "No digas algo de lo que te arrepentirás. Claudia, hablaremos cuando vuelva." Se dio la vuelta y salió con paso firme, sin mirar atrás. Ni siquiera sabía lo graves que eran las lesiones de Lydia, solo sabía que tenía que ir. Se dijo a sí mismo: Cuando vuelva, lo compensaré. Le haré una propuesta aún mejor. También tomó nota mental de decirle a Claudia que se alejara de Whitney; claramente esa chica le estaba llenando la cabeza de tonterías. La sala se hundió bajo el peso de todo. Incluso aquellos que pensaban que Claudia estaba siendo dramática se mordieron la lengua. Nadie quería contrariar a Jasper, ni a los Sawyer. Uno a uno, se escabulleron. En minutos, el lugar era irreconocible. Pétalos de rosa aplastados y lazos cubrían el suelo. Botellas de vino rodaban bajo las sillas. Glaseado embadurnaba la alfombra. Toda la escena parecía una parodia de lo que había sido, burlándose de lo ridículo que era todo. Mientras los últimos rezagados se quedaban, alguien frunció el ceño. "Esperen… Lydia es la hija adoptiva de los Lancaster, ¿verdad? Oí que es prima de Claudia. ¿Por qué nadie llamó a Claudia también?" "¿Llamarla? ¿Qué, quieren empeorar aún más las lesiones de Lydia?" "Vaya, ¿qué se supone que significa eso?" "Lo de siempre. Que la señorita Lancaster es fría, cruel, desagradecida… ya sabes cómo va." Los susurros comenzaron de nuevo, suaves, venenosos y familiares. Siempre lo hacían cuando el nombre de Lydia salía junto al de Claudia. El rostro de Whitney ardía de ira. Se volvió hacia Claudia, de repente preocupada. Los cotilleos de extraños no importaban, pero ¿la traición de alguien a quien amas? Eso siempre calaba más hondo. Claudia observó la espalda de Jasper mientras se alejaba, cada paso alejándolo más de ella. Era como ver los años escurriéndose entre sus dedos, el chico con el que había crecido desvaneciéndose a lo lejos. Whitney le había preguntado una vez: Si nada hubiera interrumpido esta noche, ¿habrías dicho que sí? Pero, honestamente: No importara cuál fuera su respuesta, el final habría sido el mismo. Lydia nunca la dejaría ganar. Y Jasper nunca la elegiría a ella. En el momento en que le dio la espalda, no se dio cuenta de que, aunque el futuro pueda parecer interminable, la mujer dispuesta a esperarte no dura para siempre. Jasper… esta vez, realmente te dejo ir. En la mesa, entre el desorden, el teléfono de Claudia vibró. Una notificación de WhatsApp apareció, breve y suficiente. "Perdiste." Capítulo 2 Tres días antes, Lydia había acorralado a Claudia. "Sabes que Jasper está a punto de proponerte matrimonio, ¿verdad?" Sus bonitos ojos brillaban, no de emoción, sino de celos y malicia. "Oí que ambas familias querían pasar directamente a la fiesta de compromiso, pero él insistió en hacerlo bien. Dijo que necesitaba oír tu 'sí' él mismo, o no significaría nada. Ayy, qué romántico, ¿no?" "¿Y qué?" Claudia levantó la vista, su tono plano, sin inmutarse. La sonrisa de Lydia se curvó, afilada y venenosa. "¿Y qué? Claudia, ¿qué hace que una pecadora como tú crea que merece felicidad?" Se inclinó más cerca, con voz azucarada pero goteando veneno. "¿Quieres apostar? En tres días, esa propuesta ni siquiera ocurrirá." Claudia solo la miró fijamente. Para todos los demás, Lydia era pura perfección: de voz suave, gentil, toda gracia y luz. Nadie creería que a puerta cerrada podía escupir veneno así. Podría haber detenido la propuesta en cualquier momento que quisiera. Pero no. A Lydia le gustaba el drama. Quería esperar hasta el acto final, para empujar a Claudia fuera del escenario ella misma. Como siempre hacía. … Después de que la propuesta se fuera al traste, el teléfono de Whitney sonó. Una mirada a la identificación de la llamada, y su rostro se demudó. Maldijo entre dientes y salió corriendo. Había planeado dejar a Claudia primero —Claudia había llegado en el coche de Jasper—, pero cuando Claudia se dio cuenta de que algo pasaba con la madre de Whitney, la instó a irse. Cuando todos los demás se habían ido, Claudia se quedó entre los escombros de flores aplastadas y copas de champán, con la cabeza agachada, su expresión ilegible. Dejó escapar una risita amarga. Era tarde. Las calles afuera estaban tranquilas y vacías. Claudia salió del club sin ganas de ir a casa. Vagó junto al río, el frío de la noche calándole la piel. Entonces, se detuvo en seco. Los vellos de su nuca se erizaron: alguien la seguía. Levantó su teléfono, fingiendo tomar una selfie, inclinándolo lo justo para ver el reflejo detrás de ella. Un grupo de hombres, sombras acercándose. Su pulso se disparó. Empezó a caminar más rápido. Ellos también. Su pulgar se cernió sobre su contacto de emergencia —el número que Jasper la había obligado a configurar hacía un año. En aquel entonces, le había roto el brazo a un acosador por molestar a una chica y había terminado en la comisaría. Jasper la sacó bajo fianza, regañándola durante todo el trayecto a casa por ser imprudente. Se había puesto a sí mismo como su contacto de emergencia, haciéndole prometer que si alguna vez estaba en peligro, lo llamaría a él, sin heroísmos, sin orgullo. Había jurado que sin importar dónde o cuándo, iría por ella. Nunca imaginó que la primera vez que llamaría sería así. "¿Claudia?" La voz de Jasper llegó, baja y cansada. Estaba en el hospital. El accidente de Lydia no había sido grave, pero ella era frágil —nacida prematura, se alteraba fácilmente. Solo él podía calmarla. Todo el clan Lancaster estaba acampado fuera. Lydia acababa de quedarse dormida cuando llegó la llamada, despertándola de un salto. "Jasper, alguien me está siguiendo." Silencio. Luego, su voz, fría, desdeñosa. "Claudia, realmente no puedo irme esta noche. No montes una escena." Pensó que estaba mintiendo, intentando alejarlo otra vez del lado de la cama de Lydia. Justo entonces, la madre de Lydia, Lottie Wallace, entró con un vaso de agua. Su rostro suave y elegante se endureció al ver el teléfono en la mano de Jasper. "¡Claudia!", espetó. "Lydia acaba de tener un accidente, y ni siquiera te molestas en visitar. ¿Ahora estás quién sabe dónde, inventando historias? ¿Cuándo vas a crecer? Escucha: nadie se va esta noche. Deja ya tus juegos mezquinos." Colgó sin dudar. En la cama, Lydia yacía pálida y temblorosa. Su voz era pequeña, vacilante. "Mamá, no te enfades. ¿Y si Claudia realmente está en problemas?" Lottie suspiró, la decepción grabada a fuego. "¿Qué problemas podría tener? Esta no es la primera vez que intenta algo cuando tú estás enferma." En la secundaria, Claudia una vez había llamado a casa en medio de la noche, diciendo que la habían secuestrado y exigiendo dinero de rescate. Esa misma noche, Lydia había caído enferma. La familia ya estaba en pánico, y la supuesta llamada de rescate casi le da un infarto a Lottie. Habían corrido a la ubicación, solo para encontrar a Claudia saliendo ilesa, sin un rasguño. Para cuando volvieron a casa, Lydia se había desplomado en el suelo, sola. Era demasiado tarde cuando finalmente la llevaron al hospital. El doctor dijo que con otro retraso, no habría sobrevivido. Esa noche, el padre de Claudia la había golpeado hasta dejarla sangrando. Pasó un mes en el hospital, y nunca se disculpó. La voz de Lottie se suavizó, cargada de decepción. "¿Cuándo se volvió así mi dulce niña?" Jasper conocía cada palabra de esa historia. Incluso había sido él quien llevaba snacks a escondidas a la cama de Claudia en el hospital después, contando chistes estúpidos para hacerla reír. Pero esta noche era diferente. Se dijo a sí mismo que solo estaba haciendo una rabieta por la propuesta arruinada. No tenía energía para sus pataletas. Mañana, cuando se calmara, hablaría con ella, la haría sonreír de nuevo. Colgó, apartó el cabello de la frente de Lydia y susurró: "Se te ha ido la fiebre. Pórtate bien. Duerme." Los ojos de Lydia brillaron con culpa y suavidad. "Jasper, lo siento por esta noche. Es toda mi culpa. Si no fuera tan débil—" "No. Nunca eres una carga." "Jasper…" "Duerme." Sus pestañas aletearon y se cerraron, y una pequeña sonrisa curvó sus labios. Dormiría tranquila esa noche. … Detrás de Claudia, los hombres se acercaban, lentos, perezosos, como gatos jugando con un ratón. Ella siguió corriendo, la voz de Jasper y el regaño de Lottie resonando en su mente. Tal vez había estado decepcionada demasiadas veces, porque ni siquiera se sentía triste ya, solo vacía. Hueca. La noche de abril era cálida, pero cortaba como cristal. La empujaron a un rincón oscuro. Claudia se detuvo bajo un árbol, su expresión calmada, los ojos bajándose al suelo. Entonces, se movió. Quince minutos después, los hombres yacían esparcidos por el pavimento —brazos retorcidos, piernas rotas, gimiendo de dolor. Claudia, sin aliento y sangrando, se dejó caer en el bordillo. Agarró su teléfono con una mano resbaladiza de sangre y marcó al 911. Después de ese lío en octavo grado, había empezado kickboxing y defensa personal. Había aprendido pronto: nadie vendría a salvarla. Uno de los hombres, con el brazo doblado en la dirección incorrecta, empezó a arrastrarse hacia ella. Los ojos de Claudia se posaron sobre él, fríos y afilados. Antes de que pudiera moverse, una bota cayó con fuerza, enviando al tipo volando. Una sombra se cernió sobre ella: un hombre alto con una sonrisa perezosa y el tipo de rostro que podría salirse con la suya cometiendo un asesinato. La miró desde arriba, haciendo un clic suave con la lengua. "Tss. ¿De dónde ha salido esta criaturita?" Capítulo 3 Sterling Romero salió de la Mansión Romero esa noche, lo suficientemente enfadado como para dejar su coche a medio camino a casa y sacar al perro a pasear. Lo que no esperaba era toparse con esa escena. Allí estaba ella, un capullo de rosa hermoso y malherido, acorralado por una jauría de callejeros desaliñados. Parecía frágil, pero la forma en que levantaba la barbilla, los ojos ardiendo de desafío, lo atrajo directamente de vuelta al cachorro de lobo huérfano con el que había vivido en las montañas casi un mes cuando tenía diez años. Todo fanfarronería y dientes al descubierto, guardando su pequeño trozo de tierra. Débil, pero ardiendo de vida. Ese lobo había muerto por sus manos al final. ¿Y esta chica? Era el mismo tipo de criatura: pequeña, espinosa y lista para hacer sangrar a quien intentara hacerle daño. Su rostro ni siquiera se inmutó mientras rompía los brazos de esos matones como si fueran ramitas. Nada la conmovía. Sterling, que rara vez se preocupaba por nada, sintió un destello de interés que no podía sacudirse. En contra de su mejor juicio, intervino. De cerca, era aún más difícil de olvidar. Esos ojos, oscuros, claros, brillantes como una noche después de la lluvia, se engancharon en algo enterrado profundamente dentro de él. Cuando ella levantó la vista, sobresaltada, había un destello de luz estelar que le hizo picar los dedos, con ganas de alargar la mano, de cubrir esos ojos afilados e intrépidos. Bien. Ya había intervenido. Mejor llevarlo hasta el final. Y, honestamente, necesitaba desahogarse. El callejón se llenó de gritos. Hacía un minuto, esos matones solo estaban demasiado heridos para arrastrarse. ¿Ahora? Estaban hechos pedazos: brazos inútiles, piernas rotas, el pánico espeso en el aire. Se arrepentían de todo. El trabajo había sido simple: golpearla un poco, nada grave. Su jefe incluso les había advertido que no dejaran marcas. Pero ella era demasiado hermosa, y unos cuantos se volvieron codiciosos. ¿Quién podría haber imaginado que la belleza delicada pegaba como un demonio, y lo que era peor, que un hombre como él aparecería de la nada? Frío, letal, como la Muerte misma con un abrigo de diseñador. Si el asesinato fuera legal, estaban seguros de que les habría roto el cuello sin pestañear. El cabecilla ya estaba perdiendo la cabeza. Sterling volvió paseando hasta donde la chica yacía observando desde el suelo. Su tono llevaba un rastro de diversión maliciosa. "Eres rápida, pero no lo suficiente despiadada. Si dejas cabos sueltos así, volverán para morderte. Entonces, pequeña callejera, ¿cómo piensas pagarme esta noche?" Claudia, que podría haber manejado la pelea bien por sí sola, y que ahora de alguna manera le debía algo a este extraño, guardó silencio. Tumbada de espaldas, el rostro surcado de sangre y polvo, de alguna manera parecía irreal en la oscuridad. Sterling frunció el ceño. Sucio. Se inclinó para levantar a la silenciosa rosa a sus pies, entonces algo lo empujó con fuerza. Tropezó, perdió el equilibrio y cayó justo encima de ella. Su peso aplastó su brazo herido; su mano izquierda aterrizó sobre algo más suave. Sus dedos se tensaron y apretaron antes de que su cerebro reaccionara. Se quedó helado. Ella también. Sus ojos se encontraron, muy abiertos en mutua conmoción. A unos metros de distancia, el perro pastor culpable se sentó parpadeando, como diciendo: Por favor, no me vean. Inmovilizada bajo un extraño, con todo dolorido, Claudia respiró hondo y tembloroso. Guapo o no, un grupo seguía siendo un grupo. Su expresión calmada se volvió feroz. Sterling oyó las primeras palabras de la rosa para él esa noche. "¿Nadie te dijo nunca?" "¿Decirme qué?" "Que no metas la nariz en los asuntos de otros." Antes de que la última palabra se desvaneciera, le rodeó el cuello con los brazos y lo tiró hacia abajo. Sus frentes chocaron con un crujido. El dolor se disparó. "¡Agente! ¡Por aquí!" Su voz sonó clara. Segundos después, las sirenas partieron la noche. Los policías vinieron corriendo. Sterling, al darse cuenta de que acababa de ser utilizado, dejó escapar una risa baja e incrédula. "¿Así tratas a tu salvador?" Terminó tumbado exactamente donde ella había estado, su voz goteando sarcasmo. Claudia se puso de pie, medio en sombras, y le dedicó una sonrisa delgada. "Obviamente. Soy la villana desagradecida, ¿recuerdas?" … Esa noche, el chico de oro de Liberty City, el heredero de Romero Corporation, fue llevado a la comisaría. Clint apareció rápido con un abogado, echando miradas furtivas a la chica que despertó la rara misericordia del Segador… y luego lo denunció por acoso. ¿Valiente, verdad? Era hermosa, y claramente no le temía a nada. Una vez que los matones fueron registrados, Clint se preparó, esperando a que Sterling dijera la palabra: Encárgate de ella. En cambio, Sterling dijo: "Averigua quién es." "¿Quién?" La palabra se le escapó antes de que Clint pudiera detenerse. Sterling nunca mostraba interés en ninguna mujer. La sola idea daba miedo. La mirada de Sterling se clavó en él, lo suficientemente afilada para hacerlo callar. "Sí, señor", murmuró Clint rápidamente. Mirando a la chica alejarse a zancadas después de lanzar una última mirada ardiente por encima del hombro, Clint sintió una punzada de lástima. Eso era todo. Ella y toda su familia estaban acabadas. … Ajena a la tormenta que acababa de desatar, Claudia se arrastró a casa al amanecer, perseguida por una ráfaga de llamadas. Su padre, Wilson Lancaster, la recibió en la puerta con una bofetada sonora. "¿Cómo he criado a una hija como tú?" No esquivó a tiempo. Su mejilla pálida enrojeció e hinchó. La habitación se quedó helada. Jasper frunció el ceño, con dolor destellando en sus ojos. Se obligó a no intervenir. Claudia había cruzado la línea esta vez; si no aprendía, quién sabía qué caos provocaría después. Aun así… Wilson había golpeado demasiado fuerte. La visión le retorció algo en el pecho. Lottie, Clarence y Zane llevaban la misma expresión enfadada y decepcionada. En el sofá, los ojos de Lydia brillaban con una alegría mal disimulada. Había estado furiosa la noche anterior porque los cretinos que contrató habían metido la pata y terminado en la comisaría. Por suerte, había cubierto sus huellas. Habían afirmado que fue solo un agarre "en un momento de arrebato", y como no pasó nada grave, no había nada que la vinculara a ella. Había sido dada de alta esa mañana y soltó el cebo que tenía preparado desde hacía tiempo. Los Lancaster se lo tragaron entero. Después de desaparecer toda la noche, nadie preguntó dónde había estado Claudia, ni notó sus heridas. La recibieron con una bofetada. Esa era su familia. Claudia no discutió. Caminó directamente hacia la pequeña Lydia, presumida y satisfecha.
Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now.Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now. Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia Capítulo 1 ¡Bum! Las puertas de la sala del evento se abrieron de golpe. "¡Algo le ha pasado a Lydia!", gritó un hombre al entrar tambaleándose, con el pánico pintado en el rostro. Las palabras impactaron como una bomba. La sala —decorada con flores, lazos y música romántica, bullendo de emoción por la propuesta— quedó instantáneamente en silencio. El hombre en el centro de atención, aún de rodillas, con el anillo en la mano, se giró sobresaltado. "¿Qué acabas de decir?" Quade Zimmer, con su pelo teñido de azul tan estridente como su voz, soltó: "¡La señora Lancaster acaba de llamar! ¡Lydia ha tenido un accidente de coche! ¡Está en el hospital ahora mismo!" Apenas habían salido las palabras de su boca cuando estalló el caos: sillas arrastrándose, tacones repiqueteando, gente apresurándose hacia la puerta. No era una exageración decir que Lydia Wallace era la chica de moda de su círculo: hermosa, talentosa, frágil de esa forma desgarradora que hacía que la gente quisiera protegerla. Todos la adoraban, la compadecían, la veneraban. ¿Y ahora que su diosa estaba herida? A nadie le quedaba corazón para seguir celebrando una propuesta de matrimonio cuya respuesta todos ya conocían. Incluso el chico que proponía lo dejó todo y salió corriendo. "Jasper—" La voz que pronunció su nombre llegó por detrás —suave, apenas más que un suspiro. Fue entonces cuando todos finalmente se dieron cuenta: la mujer a la que le estaban pidiendo matrimonio no había dicho ni una palabra en todo este tiempo. Alguien debió de haber dado a los interruptores en el caos, porque la sala se oscureció. La única luz provenía de las suaves lámparas de la pared. En un rincón, mitad en sombras, mitad en luz, estaba Claudia Lancaster. Su belleza no era del tipo dulce y gentil —era marcada, impactante, inolvidable. Pero en ese momento, su calma resultaba inquietante. Su expresión no revelaba nada. "¿No quieres oír mi respuesta?", preguntó en voz baja. Hacía apenas un minuto, Jasper Fenton le había pedido que se casara con él. Ahora, a medio camino de la puerta, se detuvo en seco. Ni siquiera intentó explicarse. "Claudia, lo siento. Tengo que ir al hospital. Vete a casa primero, ¿vale?" "¿Y si no te dejo ir?" Su voz se mantuvo firme. "Jasper, sabes que la odio." Jasper suspiró, exasperado. "Claudia, ahora no. No es momento para empezar una pelea." "Mi respuesta… puede que solo la obtengas una vez", dijo, tan calmada como siempre. Algo en su tono le hizo hacer una pausa. Normalmente, en cuanto salía el nombre de Lydia, Claudia estallaba —espetando, poniendo los ojos en blanco, maldiciendo a Lydia entre dientes. Pero esta noche, estaba fría, distante. Casi como si lo hubiera estado esperando. Un destello de inquietud le recorrió la espalda a Jasper. "Oh, por favor", intervino Quade, poniendo los ojos en blanco. "Has estado obsesionada con Jasper desde, ¿qué, la secundaria? El tipo finalmente te propone matrimonio y ¿se supone que debemos creer que dirías que no?" "Sí, alguien podría estar muriéndose en serio. Te pueden proponer matrimonio cualquier otro día", añadió alguien más. "¡Exacto! Las familias arreglaron esto hace siglos, toda esta cosa es solo por apariencias." Los comentarios dolían, pero Claudia ni siquiera parpadeó. Sus ojos oscuros permanecieron clavados en Jasper. Esperando. Jasper dejó escapar otro suspiro y volvió hacia ella. Como siempre, le despeinó el cabello como si fuera una niña. "Pórtate bien, ¿vale? No montes una escena. Lydia podría estar gravemente herida. Este no es el momento para una rabieta." Siempre era así. Cada vez que Lydia estaba involucrada, Jasper nunca preguntaba quién tenía razón o no. Corría a consolar a Lydia primero, y luego volvía a regañar a Claudia, suave y paciente, como si fuera una niña mimada que simplemente no entendía. Así se sentía amar a alguien desde abajo. No importaba cuánto gritaras, tu ira era solo "graciosa". Nunca seria. ¿Esta propuesta? Nunca había sido una pregunta real. Jasper ya sabía cuál debería haber sido su respuesta. "¡Oh, al diablo con esto, no puedo quedarme callada más tiempo!" Whitney Sawyer golpeó su bolso de mano contra algo, con furia destellando en sus ojos. Había estado aguantándose desde que Quade irrumpió, pero ya era suficiente. "Jasper, ¿eres su novio o su ambulancia personal? ¿Cómo es que cada vez que Lydia sufre 'un accidente', te llama a ti? Siempre perfectamente sincronizado, siempre arruinando tus planes. ¡La última vez fue una cita, ahora es tu propuesta! ¿Qué, no podía esperar a morirse cinco minutos?" Como mejor amiga de Claudia, Whitney había pasado semanas planeando esta propuesta. Y ahora, una vez más, Lydia la había secuestrado, y Jasper había caído directamente en la trampa. La furia de Whitney se extendió como un incendio forestal. "¡Y el resto de ustedes! ¿Para qué corren, a visitarla o a planear su funeral? ¡A este paso, Lydia ya debería haber muerto cien veces!" "¡Whitney!" El rostro de Jasper se ensombreció; el hombre gentil y afable desapareció. Su voz sonó como un latigazo. "Mide tus palabras." "Oh, perdóname." La voz de Whitney subió de tono, aguda y furiosa. "¿No soportas oír criticar a tu preciosa Lydia? Jasper, ¿acaso recuerdas quién es tu novia?" Los ojos de Jasper se helaron. Claudia le agarró el brazo a Whitney, con voz tranquila pero firme. "Si sales por esa puerta, Jasper, terminamos." Ya se había perdido demasiado tiempo. Jasper se pellizcó el puente de la nariz y suspiró. "No digas algo de lo que te arrepentirás. Claudia, hablaremos cuando vuelva." Se dio la vuelta y salió con paso firme, sin mirar atrás. Ni siquiera sabía lo graves que eran las lesiones de Lydia, solo sabía que tenía que ir. Se dijo a sí mismo: Cuando vuelva, lo compensaré. Le haré una propuesta aún mejor. También tomó nota mental de decirle a Claudia que se alejara de Whitney; claramente esa chica le estaba llenando la cabeza de tonterías. La sala se hundió bajo el peso de todo. Incluso aquellos que pensaban que Claudia estaba siendo dramática se mordieron la lengua. Nadie quería contrariar a Jasper, ni a los Sawyer. Uno a uno, se escabulleron. En minutos, el lugar era irreconocible. Pétalos de rosa aplastados y lazos cubrían el suelo. Botellas de vino rodaban bajo las sillas. Glaseado embadurnaba la alfombra. Toda la escena parecía una parodia de lo que había sido, burlándose de lo ridículo que era todo. Mientras los últimos rezagados se quedaban, alguien frunció el ceño. "Esperen… Lydia es la hija adoptiva de los Lancaster, ¿verdad? Oí que es prima de Claudia. ¿Por qué nadie llamó a Claudia también?" "¿Llamarla? ¿Qué, quieren empeorar aún más las lesiones de Lydia?" "Vaya, ¿qué se supone que significa eso?" "Lo de siempre. Que la señorita Lancaster es fría, cruel, desagradecida… ya sabes cómo va." Los susurros comenzaron de nuevo, suaves, venenosos y familiares. Siempre lo hacían cuando el nombre de Lydia salía junto al de Claudia. El rostro de Whitney ardía de ira. Se volvió hacia Claudia, de repente preocupada. Los cotilleos de extraños no importaban, pero ¿la traición de alguien a quien amas? Eso siempre calaba más hondo. Claudia observó la espalda de Jasper mientras se alejaba, cada paso alejándolo más de ella. Era como ver los años escurriéndose entre sus dedos, el chico con el que había crecido desvaneciéndose a lo lejos. Whitney le había preguntado una vez: Si nada hubiera interrumpido esta noche, ¿habrías dicho que sí? Pero, honestamente: No importara cuál fuera su respuesta, el final habría sido el mismo. Lydia nunca la dejaría ganar. Y Jasper nunca la elegiría a ella. En el momento en que le dio la espalda, no se dio cuenta de que, aunque el futuro pueda parecer interminable, la mujer dispuesta a esperarte no dura para siempre. Jasper… esta vez, realmente te dejo ir. En la mesa, entre el desorden, el teléfono de Claudia vibró. Una notificación de WhatsApp apareció, breve y suficiente. "Perdiste." Capítulo 2 Tres días antes, Lydia había acorralado a Claudia. "Sabes que Jasper está a punto de proponerte matrimonio, ¿verdad?" Sus bonitos ojos brillaban, no de emoción, sino de celos y malicia. "Oí que ambas familias querían pasar directamente a la fiesta de compromiso, pero él insistió en hacerlo bien. Dijo que necesitaba oír tu 'sí' él mismo, o no significaría nada. Ayy, qué romántico, ¿no?" "¿Y qué?" Claudia levantó la vista, su tono plano, sin inmutarse. La sonrisa de Lydia se curvó, afilada y venenosa. "¿Y qué? Claudia, ¿qué hace que una pecadora como tú crea que merece felicidad?" Se inclinó más cerca, con voz azucarada pero goteando veneno. "¿Quieres apostar? En tres días, esa propuesta ni siquiera ocurrirá." Claudia solo la miró fijamente. Para todos los demás, Lydia era pura perfección: de voz suave, gentil, toda gracia y luz. Nadie creería que a puerta cerrada podía escupir veneno así. Podría haber detenido la propuesta en cualquier momento que quisiera. Pero no. A Lydia le gustaba el drama. Quería esperar hasta el acto final, para empujar a Claudia fuera del escenario ella misma. Como siempre hacía. … Después de que la propuesta se fuera al traste, el teléfono de Whitney sonó. Una mirada a la identificación de la llamada, y su rostro se demudó. Maldijo entre dientes y salió corriendo. Había planeado dejar a Claudia primero —Claudia había llegado en el coche de Jasper—, pero cuando Claudia se dio cuenta de que algo pasaba con la madre de Whitney, la instó a irse. Cuando todos los demás se habían ido, Claudia se quedó entre los escombros de flores aplastadas y copas de champán, con la cabeza agachada, su expresión ilegible. Dejó escapar una risita amarga. Era tarde. Las calles afuera estaban tranquilas y vacías. Claudia salió del club sin ganas de ir a casa. Vagó junto al río, el frío de la noche calándole la piel. Entonces, se detuvo en seco. Los vellos de su nuca se erizaron: alguien la seguía. Levantó su teléfono, fingiendo tomar una selfie, inclinándolo lo justo para ver el reflejo detrás de ella. Un grupo de hombres, sombras acercándose. Su pulso se disparó. Empezó a caminar más rápido. Ellos también. Su pulgar se cernió sobre su contacto de emergencia —el número que Jasper la había obligado a configurar hacía un año. En aquel entonces, le había roto el brazo a un acosador por molestar a una chica y había terminado en la comisaría. Jasper la sacó bajo fianza, regañándola durante todo el trayecto a casa por ser imprudente. Se había puesto a sí mismo como su contacto de emergencia, haciéndole prometer que si alguna vez estaba en peligro, lo llamaría a él, sin heroísmos, sin orgullo. Había jurado que sin importar dónde o cuándo, iría por ella. Nunca imaginó que la primera vez que llamaría sería así. "¿Claudia?" La voz de Jasper llegó, baja y cansada. Estaba en el hospital. El accidente de Lydia no había sido grave, pero ella era frágil —nacida prematura, se alteraba fácilmente. Solo él podía calmarla. Todo el clan Lancaster estaba acampado fuera. Lydia acababa de quedarse dormida cuando llegó la llamada, despertándola de un salto. "Jasper, alguien me está siguiendo." Silencio. Luego, su voz, fría, desdeñosa. "Claudia, realmente no puedo irme esta noche. No montes una escena." Pensó que estaba mintiendo, intentando alejarlo otra vez del lado de la cama de Lydia. Justo entonces, la madre de Lydia, Lottie Wallace, entró con un vaso de agua. Su rostro suave y elegante se endureció al ver el teléfono en la mano de Jasper. "¡Claudia!", espetó. "Lydia acaba de tener un accidente, y ni siquiera te molestas en visitar. ¿Ahora estás quién sabe dónde, inventando historias? ¿Cuándo vas a crecer? Escucha: nadie se va esta noche. Deja ya tus juegos mezquinos." Colgó sin dudar. En la cama, Lydia yacía pálida y temblorosa. Su voz era pequeña, vacilante. "Mamá, no te enfades. ¿Y si Claudia realmente está en problemas?" Lottie suspiró, la decepción grabada a fuego. "¿Qué problemas podría tener? Esta no es la primera vez que intenta algo cuando tú estás enferma." En la secundaria, Claudia una vez había llamado a casa en medio de la noche, diciendo que la habían secuestrado y exigiendo dinero de rescate. Esa misma noche, Lydia había caído enferma. La familia ya estaba en pánico, y la supuesta llamada de rescate casi le da un infarto a Lottie. Habían corrido a la ubicación, solo para encontrar a Claudia saliendo ilesa, sin un rasguño. Para cuando volvieron a casa, Lydia se había desplomado en el suelo, sola. Era demasiado tarde cuando finalmente la llevaron al hospital. El doctor dijo que con otro retraso, no habría sobrevivido. Esa noche, el padre de Claudia la había golpeado hasta dejarla sangrando. Pasó un mes en el hospital, y nunca se disculpó. La voz de Lottie se suavizó, cargada de decepción. "¿Cuándo se volvió así mi dulce niña?" Jasper conocía cada palabra de esa historia. Incluso había sido él quien llevaba snacks a escondidas a la cama de Claudia en el hospital después, contando chistes estúpidos para hacerla reír. Pero esta noche era diferente. Se dijo a sí mismo que solo estaba haciendo una rabieta por la propuesta arruinada. No tenía energía para sus pataletas. Mañana, cuando se calmara, hablaría con ella, la haría sonreír de nuevo. Colgó, apartó el cabello de la frente de Lydia y susurró: "Se te ha ido la fiebre. Pórtate bien. Duerme." Los ojos de Lydia brillaron con culpa y suavidad. "Jasper, lo siento por esta noche. Es toda mi culpa. Si no fuera tan débil—" "No. Nunca eres una carga." "Jasper…" "Duerme." Sus pestañas aletearon y se cerraron, y una pequeña sonrisa curvó sus labios. Dormiría tranquila esa noche. … Detrás de Claudia, los hombres se acercaban, lentos, perezosos, como gatos jugando con un ratón. Ella siguió corriendo, la voz de Jasper y el regaño de Lottie resonando en su mente. Tal vez había estado decepcionada demasiadas veces, porque ni siquiera se sentía triste ya, solo vacía. Hueca. La noche de abril era cálida, pero cortaba como cristal. La empujaron a un rincón oscuro. Claudia se detuvo bajo un árbol, su expresión calmada, los ojos bajándose al suelo. Entonces, se movió. Quince minutos después, los hombres yacían esparcidos por el pavimento —brazos retorcidos, piernas rotas, gimiendo de dolor. Claudia, sin aliento y sangrando, se dejó caer en el bordillo. Agarró su teléfono con una mano resbaladiza de sangre y marcó al 911. Después de ese lío en octavo grado, había empezado kickboxing y defensa personal. Había aprendido pronto: nadie vendría a salvarla. Uno de los hombres, con el brazo doblado en la dirección incorrecta, empezó a arrastrarse hacia ella. Los ojos de Claudia se posaron sobre él, fríos y afilados. Antes de que pudiera moverse, una bota cayó con fuerza, enviando al tipo volando. Una sombra se cernió sobre ella: un hombre alto con una sonrisa perezosa y el tipo de rostro que podría salirse con la suya cometiendo un asesinato. La miró desde arriba, haciendo un clic suave con la lengua. "Tss. ¿De dónde ha salido esta criaturita?" Capítulo 3 Sterling Romero salió de la Mansión Romero esa noche, lo suficientemente enfadado como para dejar su coche a medio camino a casa y sacar al perro a pasear. Lo que no esperaba era toparse con esa escena. Allí estaba ella, un capullo de rosa hermoso y malherido, acorralado por una jauría de callejeros desaliñados. Parecía frágil, pero la forma en que levantaba la barbilla, los ojos ardiendo de desafío, lo atrajo directamente de vuelta al cachorro de lobo huérfano con el que había vivido en las montañas casi un mes cuando tenía diez años. Todo fanfarronería y dientes al descubierto, guardando su pequeño trozo de tierra. Débil, pero ardiendo de vida. Ese lobo había muerto por sus manos al final. ¿Y esta chica? Era el mismo tipo de criatura: pequeña, espinosa y lista para hacer sangrar a quien intentara hacerle daño. Su rostro ni siquiera se inmutó mientras rompía los brazos de esos matones como si fueran ramitas. Nada la conmovía. Sterling, que rara vez se preocupaba por nada, sintió un destello de interés que no podía sacudirse. En contra de su mejor juicio, intervino. De cerca, era aún más difícil de olvidar. Esos ojos, oscuros, claros, brillantes como una noche después de la lluvia, se engancharon en algo enterrado profundamente dentro de él. Cuando ella levantó la vista, sobresaltada, había un destello de luz estelar que le hizo picar los dedos, con ganas de alargar la mano, de cubrir esos ojos afilados e intrépidos. Bien. Ya había intervenido. Mejor llevarlo hasta el final. Y, honestamente, necesitaba desahogarse. El callejón se llenó de gritos. Hacía un minuto, esos matones solo estaban demasiado heridos para arrastrarse. ¿Ahora? Estaban hechos pedazos: brazos inútiles, piernas rotas, el pánico espeso en el aire. Se arrepentían de todo. El trabajo había sido simple: golpearla un poco, nada grave. Su jefe incluso les había advertido que no dejaran marcas. Pero ella era demasiado hermosa, y unos cuantos se volvieron codiciosos. ¿Quién podría haber imaginado que la belleza delicada pegaba como un demonio, y lo que era peor, que un hombre como él aparecería de la nada? Frío, letal, como la Muerte misma con un abrigo de diseñador. Si el asesinato fuera legal, estaban seguros de que les habría roto el cuello sin pestañear. El cabecilla ya estaba perdiendo la cabeza. Sterling volvió paseando hasta donde la chica yacía observando desde el suelo. Su tono llevaba un rastro de diversión maliciosa. "Eres rápida, pero no lo suficiente despiadada. Si dejas cabos sueltos así, volverán para morderte. Entonces, pequeña callejera, ¿cómo piensas pagarme esta noche?" Claudia, que podría haber manejado la pelea bien por sí sola, y que ahora de alguna manera le debía algo a este extraño, guardó silencio. Tumbada de espaldas, el rostro surcado de sangre y polvo, de alguna manera parecía irreal en la oscuridad. Sterling frunció el ceño. Sucio. Se inclinó para levantar a la silenciosa rosa a sus pies, entonces algo lo empujó con fuerza. Tropezó, perdió el equilibrio y cayó justo encima de ella. Su peso aplastó su brazo herido; su mano izquierda aterrizó sobre algo más suave. Sus dedos se tensaron y apretaron antes de que su cerebro reaccionara. Se quedó helado. Ella también. Sus ojos se encontraron, muy abiertos en mutua conmoción. A unos metros de distancia, el perro pastor culpable se sentó parpadeando, como diciendo: Por favor, no me vean. Inmovilizada bajo un extraño, con todo dolorido, Claudia respiró hondo y tembloroso. Guapo o no, un grupo seguía siendo un grupo. Su expresión calmada se volvió feroz. Sterling oyó las primeras palabras de la rosa para él esa noche. "¿Nadie te dijo nunca?" "¿Decirme qué?" "Que no metas la nariz en los asuntos de otros." Antes de que la última palabra se desvaneciera, le rodeó el cuello con los brazos y lo tiró hacia abajo. Sus frentes chocaron con un crujido. El dolor se disparó. "¡Agente! ¡Por aquí!" Su voz sonó clara. Segundos después, las sirenas partieron la noche. Los policías vinieron corriendo. Sterling, al darse cuenta de que acababa de ser utilizado, dejó escapar una risa baja e incrédula. "¿Así tratas a tu salvador?" Terminó tumbado exactamente donde ella había estado, su voz goteando sarcasmo. Claudia se puso de pie, medio en sombras, y le dedicó una sonrisa delgada. "Obviamente. Soy la villana desagradecida, ¿recuerdas?" … Esa noche, el chico de oro de Liberty City, el heredero de Romero Corporation, fue llevado a la comisaría. Clint apareció rápido con un abogado, echando miradas furtivas a la chica que despertó la rara misericordia del Segador… y luego lo denunció por acoso. ¿Valiente, verdad? Era hermosa, y claramente no le temía a nada. Una vez que los matones fueron registrados, Clint se preparó, esperando a que Sterling dijera la palabra: Encárgate de ella. En cambio, Sterling dijo: "Averigua quién es." "¿Quién?" La palabra se le escapó antes de que Clint pudiera detenerse. Sterling nunca mostraba interés en ninguna mujer. La sola idea daba miedo. La mirada de Sterling se clavó en él, lo suficientemente afilada para hacerlo callar. "Sí, señor", murmuró Clint rápidamente. Mirando a la chica alejarse a zancadas después de lanzar una última mirada ardiente por encima del hombro, Clint sintió una punzada de lástima. Eso era todo. Ella y toda su familia estaban acabadas. … Ajena a la tormenta que acababa de desatar, Claudia se arrastró a casa al amanecer, perseguida por una ráfaga de llamadas. Su padre, Wilson Lancaster, la recibió en la puerta con una bofetada sonora. "¿Cómo he criado a una hija como tú?" No esquivó a tiempo. Su mejilla pálida enrojeció e hinchó. La habitación se quedó helada. Jasper frunció el ceño, con dolor destellando en sus ojos. Se obligó a no intervenir. Claudia había cruzado la línea esta vez; si no aprendía, quién sabía qué caos provocaría después. Aun así… Wilson había golpeado demasiado fuerte. La visión le retorció algo en el pecho. Lottie, Clarence y Zane llevaban la misma expresión enfadada y decepcionada. En el sofá, los ojos de Lydia brillaban con una alegría mal disimulada. Había estado furiosa la noche anterior porque los cretinos que contrató habían metido la pata y terminado en la comisaría. Por suerte, había cubierto sus huellas. Habían afirmado que fue solo un agarre "en un momento de arrebato", y como no pasó nada grave, no había nada que la vinculara a ella. Había sido dada de alta esa mañana y soltó el cebo que tenía preparado desde hacía tiempo. Los Lancaster se lo tragaron entero. Después de desaparecer toda la noche, nadie preguntó dónde había estado Claudia, ni notó sus heridas. La recibieron con una bofetada. Esa era su familia. Claudia no discutió. Caminó directamente hacia la pequeña Lydia, presumida y satisfecha.
Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now.Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now. Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia Capítulo 1 ¡Bum! Las puertas de la sala del evento se abrieron de golpe. "¡Algo le ha pasado a Lydia!", gritó un hombre al entrar tambaleándose, con el pánico pintado en el rostro. Las palabras impactaron como una bomba. La sala —decorada con flores, lazos y música romántica, bullendo de emoción por la propuesta— quedó instantáneamente en silencio. El hombre en el centro de atención, aún de rodillas, con el anillo en la mano, se giró sobresaltado. "¿Qué acabas de decir?" Quade Zimmer, con su pelo teñido de azul tan estridente como su voz, soltó: "¡La señora Lancaster acaba de llamar! ¡Lydia ha tenido un accidente de coche! ¡Está en el hospital ahora mismo!" Apenas habían salido las palabras de su boca cuando estalló el caos: sillas arrastrándose, tacones repiqueteando, gente apresurándose hacia la puerta. No era una exageración decir que Lydia Wallace era la chica de moda de su círculo: hermosa, talentosa, frágil de esa forma desgarradora que hacía que la gente quisiera protegerla. Todos la adoraban, la compadecían, la veneraban. ¿Y ahora que su diosa estaba herida? A nadie le quedaba corazón para seguir celebrando una propuesta de matrimonio cuya respuesta todos ya conocían. Incluso el chico que proponía lo dejó todo y salió corriendo. "Jasper—" La voz que pronunció su nombre llegó por detrás —suave, apenas más que un suspiro. Fue entonces cuando todos finalmente se dieron cuenta: la mujer a la que le estaban pidiendo matrimonio no había dicho ni una palabra en todo este tiempo. Alguien debió de haber dado a los interruptores en el caos, porque la sala se oscureció. La única luz provenía de las suaves lámparas de la pared. En un rincón, mitad en sombras, mitad en luz, estaba Claudia Lancaster. Su belleza no era del tipo dulce y gentil —era marcada, impactante, inolvidable. Pero en ese momento, su calma resultaba inquietante. Su expresión no revelaba nada. "¿No quieres oír mi respuesta?", preguntó en voz baja. Hacía apenas un minuto, Jasper Fenton le había pedido que se casara con él. Ahora, a medio camino de la puerta, se detuvo en seco. Ni siquiera intentó explicarse. "Claudia, lo siento. Tengo que ir al hospital. Vete a casa primero, ¿vale?" "¿Y si no te dejo ir?" Su voz se mantuvo firme. "Jasper, sabes que la odio." Jasper suspiró, exasperado. "Claudia, ahora no. No es momento para empezar una pelea." "Mi respuesta… puede que solo la obtengas una vez", dijo, tan calmada como siempre. Algo en su tono le hizo hacer una pausa. Normalmente, en cuanto salía el nombre de Lydia, Claudia estallaba —espetando, poniendo los ojos en blanco, maldiciendo a Lydia entre dientes. Pero esta noche, estaba fría, distante. Casi como si lo hubiera estado esperando. Un destello de inquietud le recorrió la espalda a Jasper. "Oh, por favor", intervino Quade, poniendo los ojos en blanco. "Has estado obsesionada con Jasper desde, ¿qué, la secundaria? El tipo finalmente te propone matrimonio y ¿se supone que debemos creer que dirías que no?" "Sí, alguien podría estar muriéndose en serio. Te pueden proponer matrimonio cualquier otro día", añadió alguien más. "¡Exacto! Las familias arreglaron esto hace siglos, toda esta cosa es solo por apariencias." Los comentarios dolían, pero Claudia ni siquiera parpadeó. Sus ojos oscuros permanecieron clavados en Jasper. Esperando. Jasper dejó escapar otro suspiro y volvió hacia ella. Como siempre, le despeinó el cabello como si fuera una niña. "Pórtate bien, ¿vale? No montes una escena. Lydia podría estar gravemente herida. Este no es el momento para una rabieta." Siempre era así. Cada vez que Lydia estaba involucrada, Jasper nunca preguntaba quién tenía razón o no. Corría a consolar a Lydia primero, y luego volvía a regañar a Claudia, suave y paciente, como si fuera una niña mimada que simplemente no entendía. Así se sentía amar a alguien desde abajo. No importaba cuánto gritaras, tu ira era solo "graciosa". Nunca seria. ¿Esta propuesta? Nunca había sido una pregunta real. Jasper ya sabía cuál debería haber sido su respuesta. "¡Oh, al diablo con esto, no puedo quedarme callada más tiempo!" Whitney Sawyer golpeó su bolso de mano contra algo, con furia destellando en sus ojos. Había estado aguantándose desde que Quade irrumpió, pero ya era suficiente. "Jasper, ¿eres su novio o su ambulancia personal? ¿Cómo es que cada vez que Lydia sufre 'un accidente', te llama a ti? Siempre perfectamente sincronizado, siempre arruinando tus planes. ¡La última vez fue una cita, ahora es tu propuesta! ¿Qué, no podía esperar a morirse cinco minutos?" Como mejor amiga de Claudia, Whitney había pasado semanas planeando esta propuesta. Y ahora, una vez más, Lydia la había secuestrado, y Jasper había caído directamente en la trampa. La furia de Whitney se extendió como un incendio forestal. "¡Y el resto de ustedes! ¿Para qué corren, a visitarla o a planear su funeral? ¡A este paso, Lydia ya debería haber muerto cien veces!" "¡Whitney!" El rostro de Jasper se ensombreció; el hombre gentil y afable desapareció. Su voz sonó como un latigazo. "Mide tus palabras." "Oh, perdóname." La voz de Whitney subió de tono, aguda y furiosa. "¿No soportas oír criticar a tu preciosa Lydia? Jasper, ¿acaso recuerdas quién es tu novia?" Los ojos de Jasper se helaron. Claudia le agarró el brazo a Whitney, con voz tranquila pero firme. "Si sales por esa puerta, Jasper, terminamos." Ya se había perdido demasiado tiempo. Jasper se pellizcó el puente de la nariz y suspiró. "No digas algo de lo que te arrepentirás. Claudia, hablaremos cuando vuelva." Se dio la vuelta y salió con paso firme, sin mirar atrás. Ni siquiera sabía lo graves que eran las lesiones de Lydia, solo sabía que tenía que ir. Se dijo a sí mismo: Cuando vuelva, lo compensaré. Le haré una propuesta aún mejor. También tomó nota mental de decirle a Claudia que se alejara de Whitney; claramente esa chica le estaba llenando la cabeza de tonterías. La sala se hundió bajo el peso de todo. Incluso aquellos que pensaban que Claudia estaba siendo dramática se mordieron la lengua. Nadie quería contrariar a Jasper, ni a los Sawyer. Uno a uno, se escabulleron. En minutos, el lugar era irreconocible. Pétalos de rosa aplastados y lazos cubrían el suelo. Botellas de vino rodaban bajo las sillas. Glaseado embadurnaba la alfombra. Toda la escena parecía una parodia de lo que había sido, burlándose de lo ridículo que era todo. Mientras los últimos rezagados se quedaban, alguien frunció el ceño. "Esperen… Lydia es la hija adoptiva de los Lancaster, ¿verdad? Oí que es prima de Claudia. ¿Por qué nadie llamó a Claudia también?" "¿Llamarla? ¿Qué, quieren empeorar aún más las lesiones de Lydia?" "Vaya, ¿qué se supone que significa eso?" "Lo de siempre. Que la señorita Lancaster es fría, cruel, desagradecida… ya sabes cómo va." Los susurros comenzaron de nuevo, suaves, venenosos y familiares. Siempre lo hacían cuando el nombre de Lydia salía junto al de Claudia. El rostro de Whitney ardía de ira. Se volvió hacia Claudia, de repente preocupada. Los cotilleos de extraños no importaban, pero ¿la traición de alguien a quien amas? Eso siempre calaba más hondo. Claudia observó la espalda de Jasper mientras se alejaba, cada paso alejándolo más de ella. Era como ver los años escurriéndose entre sus dedos, el chico con el que había crecido desvaneciéndose a lo lejos. Whitney le había preguntado una vez: Si nada hubiera interrumpido esta noche, ¿habrías dicho que sí? Pero, honestamente: No importara cuál fuera su respuesta, el final habría sido el mismo. Lydia nunca la dejaría ganar. Y Jasper nunca la elegiría a ella. En el momento en que le dio la espalda, no se dio cuenta de que, aunque el futuro pueda parecer interminable, la mujer dispuesta a esperarte no dura para siempre. Jasper… esta vez, realmente te dejo ir. En la mesa, entre el desorden, el teléfono de Claudia vibró. Una notificación de WhatsApp apareció, breve y suficiente. "Perdiste." Capítulo 2 Tres días antes, Lydia había acorralado a Claudia. "Sabes que Jasper está a punto de proponerte matrimonio, ¿verdad?" Sus bonitos ojos brillaban, no de emoción, sino de celos y malicia. "Oí que ambas familias querían pasar directamente a la fiesta de compromiso, pero él insistió en hacerlo bien. Dijo que necesitaba oír tu 'sí' él mismo, o no significaría nada. Ayy, qué romántico, ¿no?" "¿Y qué?" Claudia levantó la vista, su tono plano, sin inmutarse. La sonrisa de Lydia se curvó, afilada y venenosa. "¿Y qué? Claudia, ¿qué hace que una pecadora como tú crea que merece felicidad?" Se inclinó más cerca, con voz azucarada pero goteando veneno. "¿Quieres apostar? En tres días, esa propuesta ni siquiera ocurrirá." Claudia solo la miró fijamente. Para todos los demás, Lydia era pura perfección: de voz suave, gentil, toda gracia y luz. Nadie creería que a puerta cerrada podía escupir veneno así. Podría haber detenido la propuesta en cualquier momento que quisiera. Pero no. A Lydia le gustaba el drama. Quería esperar hasta el acto final, para empujar a Claudia fuera del escenario ella misma. Como siempre hacía. … Después de que la propuesta se fuera al traste, el teléfono de Whitney sonó. Una mirada a la identificación de la llamada, y su rostro se demudó. Maldijo entre dientes y salió corriendo. Había planeado dejar a Claudia primero —Claudia había llegado en el coche de Jasper—, pero cuando Claudia se dio cuenta de que algo pasaba con la madre de Whitney, la instó a irse. Cuando todos los demás se habían ido, Claudia se quedó entre los escombros de flores aplastadas y copas de champán, con la cabeza agachada, su expresión ilegible. Dejó escapar una risita amarga. Era tarde. Las calles afuera estaban tranquilas y vacías. Claudia salió del club sin ganas de ir a casa. Vagó junto al río, el frío de la noche calándole la piel. Entonces, se detuvo en seco. Los vellos de su nuca se erizaron: alguien la seguía. Levantó su teléfono, fingiendo tomar una selfie, inclinándolo lo justo para ver el reflejo detrás de ella. Un grupo de hombres, sombras acercándose. Su pulso se disparó. Empezó a caminar más rápido. Ellos también. Su pulgar se cernió sobre su contacto de emergencia —el número que Jasper la había obligado a configurar hacía un año. En aquel entonces, le había roto el brazo a un acosador por molestar a una chica y había terminado en la comisaría. Jasper la sacó bajo fianza, regañándola durante todo el trayecto a casa por ser imprudente. Se había puesto a sí mismo como su contacto de emergencia, haciéndole prometer que si alguna vez estaba en peligro, lo llamaría a él, sin heroísmos, sin orgullo. Había jurado que sin importar dónde o cuándo, iría por ella. Nunca imaginó que la primera vez que llamaría sería así. "¿Claudia?" La voz de Jasper llegó, baja y cansada. Estaba en el hospital. El accidente de Lydia no había sido grave, pero ella era frágil —nacida prematura, se alteraba fácilmente. Solo él podía calmarla. Todo el clan Lancaster estaba acampado fuera. Lydia acababa de quedarse dormida cuando llegó la llamada, despertándola de un salto. "Jasper, alguien me está siguiendo." Silencio. Luego, su voz, fría, desdeñosa. "Claudia, realmente no puedo irme esta noche. No montes una escena." Pensó que estaba mintiendo, intentando alejarlo otra vez del lado de la cama de Lydia. Justo entonces, la madre de Lydia, Lottie Wallace, entró con un vaso de agua. Su rostro suave y elegante se endureció al ver el teléfono en la mano de Jasper. "¡Claudia!", espetó. "Lydia acaba de tener un accidente, y ni siquiera te molestas en visitar. ¿Ahora estás quién sabe dónde, inventando historias? ¿Cuándo vas a crecer? Escucha: nadie se va esta noche. Deja ya tus juegos mezquinos." Colgó sin dudar. En la cama, Lydia yacía pálida y temblorosa. Su voz era pequeña, vacilante. "Mamá, no te enfades. ¿Y si Claudia realmente está en problemas?" Lottie suspiró, la decepción grabada a fuego. "¿Qué problemas podría tener? Esta no es la primera vez que intenta algo cuando tú estás enferma." En la secundaria, Claudia una vez había llamado a casa en medio de la noche, diciendo que la habían secuestrado y exigiendo dinero de rescate. Esa misma noche, Lydia había caído enferma. La familia ya estaba en pánico, y la supuesta llamada de rescate casi le da un infarto a Lottie. Habían corrido a la ubicación, solo para encontrar a Claudia saliendo ilesa, sin un rasguño. Para cuando volvieron a casa, Lydia se había desplomado en el suelo, sola. Era demasiado tarde cuando finalmente la llevaron al hospital. El doctor dijo que con otro retraso, no habría sobrevivido. Esa noche, el padre de Claudia la había golpeado hasta dejarla sangrando. Pasó un mes en el hospital, y nunca se disculpó. La voz de Lottie se suavizó, cargada de decepción. "¿Cuándo se volvió así mi dulce niña?" Jasper conocía cada palabra de esa historia. Incluso había sido él quien llevaba snacks a escondidas a la cama de Claudia en el hospital después, contando chistes estúpidos para hacerla reír. Pero esta noche era diferente. Se dijo a sí mismo que solo estaba haciendo una rabieta por la propuesta arruinada. No tenía energía para sus pataletas. Mañana, cuando se calmara, hablaría con ella, la haría sonreír de nuevo. Colgó, apartó el cabello de la frente de Lydia y susurró: "Se te ha ido la fiebre. Pórtate bien. Duerme." Los ojos de Lydia brillaron con culpa y suavidad. "Jasper, lo siento por esta noche. Es toda mi culpa. Si no fuera tan débil—" "No. Nunca eres una carga." "Jasper…" "Duerme." Sus pestañas aletearon y se cerraron, y una pequeña sonrisa curvó sus labios. Dormiría tranquila esa noche. … Detrás de Claudia, los hombres se acercaban, lentos, perezosos, como gatos jugando con un ratón. Ella siguió corriendo, la voz de Jasper y el regaño de Lottie resonando en su mente. Tal vez había estado decepcionada demasiadas veces, porque ni siquiera se sentía triste ya, solo vacía. Hueca. La noche de abril era cálida, pero cortaba como cristal. La empujaron a un rincón oscuro. Claudia se detuvo bajo un árbol, su expresión calmada, los ojos bajándose al suelo. Entonces, se movió. Quince minutos después, los hombres yacían esparcidos por el pavimento —brazos retorcidos, piernas rotas, gimiendo de dolor. Claudia, sin aliento y sangrando, se dejó caer en el bordillo. Agarró su teléfono con una mano resbaladiza de sangre y marcó al 911. Después de ese lío en octavo grado, había empezado kickboxing y defensa personal. Había aprendido pronto: nadie vendría a salvarla. Uno de los hombres, con el brazo doblado en la dirección incorrecta, empezó a arrastrarse hacia ella. Los ojos de Claudia se posaron sobre él, fríos y afilados. Antes de que pudiera moverse, una bota cayó con fuerza, enviando al tipo volando. Una sombra se cernió sobre ella: un hombre alto con una sonrisa perezosa y el tipo de rostro que podría salirse con la suya cometiendo un asesinato. La miró desde arriba, haciendo un clic suave con la lengua. "Tss. ¿De dónde ha salido esta criaturita?" Capítulo 3 Sterling Romero salió de la Mansión Romero esa noche, lo suficientemente enfadado como para dejar su coche a medio camino a casa y sacar al perro a pasear. Lo que no esperaba era toparse con esa escena. Allí estaba ella, un capullo de rosa hermoso y malherido, acorralado por una jauría de callejeros desaliñados. Parecía frágil, pero la forma en que levantaba la barbilla, los ojos ardiendo de desafío, lo atrajo directamente de vuelta al cachorro de lobo huérfano con el que había vivido en las montañas casi un mes cuando tenía diez años. Todo fanfarronería y dientes al descubierto, guardando su pequeño trozo de tierra. Débil, pero ardiendo de vida. Ese lobo había muerto por sus manos al final. ¿Y esta chica? Era el mismo tipo de criatura: pequeña, espinosa y lista para hacer sangrar a quien intentara hacerle daño. Su rostro ni siquiera se inmutó mientras rompía los brazos de esos matones como si fueran ramitas. Nada la conmovía. Sterling, que rara vez se preocupaba por nada, sintió un destello de interés que no podía sacudirse. En contra de su mejor juicio, intervino. De cerca, era aún más difícil de olvidar. Esos ojos, oscuros, claros, brillantes como una noche después de la lluvia, se engancharon en algo enterrado profundamente dentro de él. Cuando ella levantó la vista, sobresaltada, había un destello de luz estelar que le hizo picar los dedos, con ganas de alargar la mano, de cubrir esos ojos afilados e intrépidos. Bien. Ya había intervenido. Mejor llevarlo hasta el final. Y, honestamente, necesitaba desahogarse. El callejón se llenó de gritos. Hacía un minuto, esos matones solo estaban demasiado heridos para arrastrarse. ¿Ahora? Estaban hechos pedazos: brazos inútiles, piernas rotas, el pánico espeso en el aire. Se arrepentían de todo. El trabajo había sido simple: golpearla un poco, nada grave. Su jefe incluso les había advertido que no dejaran marcas. Pero ella era demasiado hermosa, y unos cuantos se volvieron codiciosos. ¿Quién podría haber imaginado que la belleza delicada pegaba como un demonio, y lo que era peor, que un hombre como él aparecería de la nada? Frío, letal, como la Muerte misma con un abrigo de diseñador. Si el asesinato fuera legal, estaban seguros de que les habría roto el cuello sin pestañear. El cabecilla ya estaba perdiendo la cabeza. Sterling volvió paseando hasta donde la chica yacía observando desde el suelo. Su tono llevaba un rastro de diversión maliciosa. "Eres rápida, pero no lo suficiente despiadada. Si dejas cabos sueltos así, volverán para morderte. Entonces, pequeña callejera, ¿cómo piensas pagarme esta noche?" Claudia, que podría haber manejado la pelea bien por sí sola, y que ahora de alguna manera le debía algo a este extraño, guardó silencio. Tumbada de espaldas, el rostro surcado de sangre y polvo, de alguna manera parecía irreal en la oscuridad. Sterling frunció el ceño. Sucio. Se inclinó para levantar a la silenciosa rosa a sus pies, entonces algo lo empujó con fuerza. Tropezó, perdió el equilibrio y cayó justo encima de ella. Su peso aplastó su brazo herido; su mano izquierda aterrizó sobre algo más suave. Sus dedos se tensaron y apretaron antes de que su cerebro reaccionara. Se quedó helado. Ella también. Sus ojos se encontraron, muy abiertos en mutua conmoción. A unos metros de distancia, el perro pastor culpable se sentó parpadeando, como diciendo: Por favor, no me vean. Inmovilizada bajo un extraño, con todo dolorido, Claudia respiró hondo y tembloroso. Guapo o no, un grupo seguía siendo un grupo. Su expresión calmada se volvió feroz. Sterling oyó las primeras palabras de la rosa para él esa noche. "¿Nadie te dijo nunca?" "¿Decirme qué?" "Que no metas la nariz en los asuntos de otros." Antes de que la última palabra se desvaneciera, le rodeó el cuello con los brazos y lo tiró hacia abajo. Sus frentes chocaron con un crujido. El dolor se disparó. "¡Agente! ¡Por aquí!" Su voz sonó clara. Segundos después, las sirenas partieron la noche. Los policías vinieron corriendo. Sterling, al darse cuenta de que acababa de ser utilizado, dejó escapar una risa baja e incrédula. "¿Así tratas a tu salvador?" Terminó tumbado exactamente donde ella había estado, su voz goteando sarcasmo. Claudia se puso de pie, medio en sombras, y le dedicó una sonrisa delgada. "Obviamente. Soy la villana desagradecida, ¿recuerdas?" … Esa noche, el chico de oro de Liberty City, el heredero de Romero Corporation, fue llevado a la comisaría. Clint apareció rápido con un abogado, echando miradas furtivas a la chica que despertó la rara misericordia del Segador… y luego lo denunció por acoso. ¿Valiente, verdad? Era hermosa, y claramente no le temía a nada. Una vez que los matones fueron registrados, Clint se preparó, esperando a que Sterling dijera la palabra: Encárgate de ella. En cambio, Sterling dijo: "Averigua quién es." "¿Quién?" La palabra se le escapó antes de que Clint pudiera detenerse. Sterling nunca mostraba interés en ninguna mujer. La sola idea daba miedo. La mirada de Sterling se clavó en él, lo suficientemente afilada para hacerlo callar. "Sí, señor", murmuró Clint rápidamente. Mirando a la chica alejarse a zancadas después de lanzar una última mirada ardiente por encima del hombro, Clint sintió una punzada de lástima. Eso era todo. Ella y toda su familia estaban acabadas. … Ajena a la tormenta que acababa de desatar, Claudia se arrastró a casa al amanecer, perseguida por una ráfaga de llamadas. Su padre, Wilson Lancaster, la recibió en la puerta con una bofetada sonora. "¿Cómo he criado a una hija como tú?" No esquivó a tiempo. Su mejilla pálida enrojeció e hinchó. La habitación se quedó helada. Jasper frunció el ceño, con dolor destellando en sus ojos. Se obligó a no intervenir. Claudia había cruzado la línea esta vez; si no aprendía, quién sabía qué caos provocaría después. Aun así… Wilson había golpeado demasiado fuerte. La visión le retorció algo en el pecho. Lottie, Clarence y Zane llevaban la misma expresión enfadada y decepcionada. En el sofá, los ojos de Lydia brillaban con una alegría mal disimulada. Había estado furiosa la noche anterior porque los cretinos que contrató habían metido la pata y terminado en la comisaría. Por suerte, había cubierto sus huellas. Habían afirmado que fue solo un agarre "en un momento de arrebato", y como no pasó nada grave, no había nada que la vinculara a ella. Había sido dada de alta esa mañana y soltó el cebo que tenía preparado desde hacía tiempo. Los Lancaster se lo tragaron entero. Después de desaparecer toda la noche, nadie preguntó dónde había estado Claudia, ni notó sus heridas. La recibieron con una bofetada. Esa era su familia. Claudia no discutió. Caminó directamente hacia la pequeña Lydia, presumida y satisfecha.
Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now.Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now. Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia Capítulo 1 ¡Bum! Las puertas de la sala del evento se abrieron de golpe. "¡Algo le ha pasado a Lydia!", gritó un hombre al entrar tambaleándose, con el pánico pintado en el rostro. Las palabras impactaron como una bomba. La sala —decorada con flores, lazos y música romántica, bullendo de emoción por la propuesta— quedó instantáneamente en silencio. El hombre en el centro de atención, aún de rodillas, con el anillo en la mano, se giró sobresaltado. "¿Qué acabas de decir?" Quade Zimmer, con su pelo teñido de azul tan estridente como su voz, soltó: "¡La señora Lancaster acaba de llamar! ¡Lydia ha tenido un accidente de coche! ¡Está en el hospital ahora mismo!" Apenas habían salido las palabras de su boca cuando estalló el caos: sillas arrastrándose, tacones repiqueteando, gente apresurándose hacia la puerta. No era una exageración decir que Lydia Wallace era la chica de moda de su círculo: hermosa, talentosa, frágil de esa forma desgarradora que hacía que la gente quisiera protegerla. Todos la adoraban, la compadecían, la veneraban. ¿Y ahora que su diosa estaba herida? A nadie le quedaba corazón para seguir celebrando una propuesta de matrimonio cuya respuesta todos ya conocían. Incluso el chico que proponía lo dejó todo y salió corriendo. "Jasper—" La voz que pronunció su nombre llegó por detrás —suave, apenas más que un suspiro. Fue entonces cuando todos finalmente se dieron cuenta: la mujer a la que le estaban pidiendo matrimonio no había dicho ni una palabra en todo este tiempo. Alguien debió de haber dado a los interruptores en el caos, porque la sala se oscureció. La única luz provenía de las suaves lámparas de la pared. En un rincón, mitad en sombras, mitad en luz, estaba Claudia Lancaster. Su belleza no era del tipo dulce y gentil —era marcada, impactante, inolvidable. Pero en ese momento, su calma resultaba inquietante. Su expresión no revelaba nada. "¿No quieres oír mi respuesta?", preguntó en voz baja. Hacía apenas un minuto, Jasper Fenton le había pedido que se casara con él. Ahora, a medio camino de la puerta, se detuvo en seco. Ni siquiera intentó explicarse. "Claudia, lo siento. Tengo que ir al hospital. Vete a casa primero, ¿vale?" "¿Y si no te dejo ir?" Su voz se mantuvo firme. "Jasper, sabes que la odio." Jasper suspiró, exasperado. "Claudia, ahora no. No es momento para empezar una pelea." "Mi respuesta… puede que solo la obtengas una vez", dijo, tan calmada como siempre. Algo en su tono le hizo hacer una pausa. Normalmente, en cuanto salía el nombre de Lydia, Claudia estallaba —espetando, poniendo los ojos en blanco, maldiciendo a Lydia entre dientes. Pero esta noche, estaba fría, distante. Casi como si lo hubiera estado esperando. Un destello de inquietud le recorrió la espalda a Jasper. "Oh, por favor", intervino Quade, poniendo los ojos en blanco. "Has estado obsesionada con Jasper desde, ¿qué, la secundaria? El tipo finalmente te propone matrimonio y ¿se supone que debemos creer que dirías que no?" "Sí, alguien podría estar muriéndose en serio. Te pueden proponer matrimonio cualquier otro día", añadió alguien más. "¡Exacto! Las familias arreglaron esto hace siglos, toda esta cosa es solo por apariencias." Los comentarios dolían, pero Claudia ni siquiera parpadeó. Sus ojos oscuros permanecieron clavados en Jasper. Esperando. Jasper dejó escapar otro suspiro y volvió hacia ella. Como siempre, le despeinó el cabello como si fuera una niña. "Pórtate bien, ¿vale? No montes una escena. Lydia podría estar gravemente herida. Este no es el momento para una rabieta." Siempre era así. Cada vez que Lydia estaba involucrada, Jasper nunca preguntaba quién tenía razón o no. Corría a consolar a Lydia primero, y luego volvía a regañar a Claudia, suave y paciente, como si fuera una niña mimada que simplemente no entendía. Así se sentía amar a alguien desde abajo. No importaba cuánto gritaras, tu ira era solo "graciosa". Nunca seria. ¿Esta propuesta? Nunca había sido una pregunta real. Jasper ya sabía cuál debería haber sido su respuesta. "¡Oh, al diablo con esto, no puedo quedarme callada más tiempo!" Whitney Sawyer golpeó su bolso de mano contra algo, con furia destellando en sus ojos. Había estado aguantándose desde que Quade irrumpió, pero ya era suficiente. "Jasper, ¿eres su novio o su ambulancia personal? ¿Cómo es que cada vez que Lydia sufre 'un accidente', te llama a ti? Siempre perfectamente sincronizado, siempre arruinando tus planes. ¡La última vez fue una cita, ahora es tu propuesta! ¿Qué, no podía esperar a morirse cinco minutos?" Como mejor amiga de Claudia, Whitney había pasado semanas planeando esta propuesta. Y ahora, una vez más, Lydia la había secuestrado, y Jasper había caído directamente en la trampa. La furia de Whitney se extendió como un incendio forestal. "¡Y el resto de ustedes! ¿Para qué corren, a visitarla o a planear su funeral? ¡A este paso, Lydia ya debería haber muerto cien veces!" "¡Whitney!" El rostro de Jasper se ensombreció; el hombre gentil y afable desapareció. Su voz sonó como un latigazo. "Mide tus palabras." "Oh, perdóname." La voz de Whitney subió de tono, aguda y furiosa. "¿No soportas oír criticar a tu preciosa Lydia? Jasper, ¿acaso recuerdas quién es tu novia?" Los ojos de Jasper se helaron. Claudia le agarró el brazo a Whitney, con voz tranquila pero firme. "Si sales por esa puerta, Jasper, terminamos." Ya se había perdido demasiado tiempo. Jasper se pellizcó el puente de la nariz y suspiró. "No digas algo de lo que te arrepentirás. Claudia, hablaremos cuando vuelva." Se dio la vuelta y salió con paso firme, sin mirar atrás. Ni siquiera sabía lo graves que eran las lesiones de Lydia, solo sabía que tenía que ir. Se dijo a sí mismo: Cuando vuelva, lo compensaré. Le haré una propuesta aún mejor. También tomó nota mental de decirle a Claudia que se alejara de Whitney; claramente esa chica le estaba llenando la cabeza de tonterías. La sala se hundió bajo el peso de todo. Incluso aquellos que pensaban que Claudia estaba siendo dramática se mordieron la lengua. Nadie quería contrariar a Jasper, ni a los Sawyer. Uno a uno, se escabulleron. En minutos, el lugar era irreconocible. Pétalos de rosa aplastados y lazos cubrían el suelo. Botellas de vino rodaban bajo las sillas. Glaseado embadurnaba la alfombra. Toda la escena parecía una parodia de lo que había sido, burlándose de lo ridículo que era todo. Mientras los últimos rezagados se quedaban, alguien frunció el ceño. "Esperen… Lydia es la hija adoptiva de los Lancaster, ¿verdad? Oí que es prima de Claudia. ¿Por qué nadie llamó a Claudia también?" "¿Llamarla? ¿Qué, quieren empeorar aún más las lesiones de Lydia?" "Vaya, ¿qué se supone que significa eso?" "Lo de siempre. Que la señorita Lancaster es fría, cruel, desagradecida… ya sabes cómo va." Los susurros comenzaron de nuevo, suaves, venenosos y familiares. Siempre lo hacían cuando el nombre de Lydia salía junto al de Claudia. El rostro de Whitney ardía de ira. Se volvió hacia Claudia, de repente preocupada. Los cotilleos de extraños no importaban, pero ¿la traición de alguien a quien amas? Eso siempre calaba más hondo. Claudia observó la espalda de Jasper mientras se alejaba, cada paso alejándolo más de ella. Era como ver los años escurriéndose entre sus dedos, el chico con el que había crecido desvaneciéndose a lo lejos. Whitney le había preguntado una vez: Si nada hubiera interrumpido esta noche, ¿habrías dicho que sí? Pero, honestamente: No importara cuál fuera su respuesta, el final habría sido el mismo. Lydia nunca la dejaría ganar. Y Jasper nunca la elegiría a ella. En el momento en que le dio la espalda, no se dio cuenta de que, aunque el futuro pueda parecer interminable, la mujer dispuesta a esperarte no dura para siempre. Jasper… esta vez, realmente te dejo ir. En la mesa, entre el desorden, el teléfono de Claudia vibró. Una notificación de WhatsApp apareció, breve y suficiente. "Perdiste." Capítulo 2 Tres días antes, Lydia había acorralado a Claudia. "Sabes que Jasper está a punto de proponerte matrimonio, ¿verdad?" Sus bonitos ojos brillaban, no de emoción, sino de celos y malicia. "Oí que ambas familias querían pasar directamente a la fiesta de compromiso, pero él insistió en hacerlo bien. Dijo que necesitaba oír tu 'sí' él mismo, o no significaría nada. Ayy, qué romántico, ¿no?" "¿Y qué?" Claudia levantó la vista, su tono plano, sin inmutarse. La sonrisa de Lydia se curvó, afilada y venenosa. "¿Y qué? Claudia, ¿qué hace que una pecadora como tú crea que merece felicidad?" Se inclinó más cerca, con voz azucarada pero goteando veneno. "¿Quieres apostar? En tres días, esa propuesta ni siquiera ocurrirá." Claudia solo la miró fijamente. Para todos los demás, Lydia era pura perfección: de voz suave, gentil, toda gracia y luz. Nadie creería que a puerta cerrada podía escupir veneno así. Podría haber detenido la propuesta en cualquier momento que quisiera. Pero no. A Lydia le gustaba el drama. Quería esperar hasta el acto final, para empujar a Claudia fuera del escenario ella misma. Como siempre hacía. … Después de que la propuesta se fuera al traste, el teléfono de Whitney sonó. Una mirada a la identificación de la llamada, y su rostro se demudó. Maldijo entre dientes y salió corriendo. Había planeado dejar a Claudia primero —Claudia había llegado en el coche de Jasper—, pero cuando Claudia se dio cuenta de que algo pasaba con la madre de Whitney, la instó a irse. Cuando todos los demás se habían ido, Claudia se quedó entre los escombros de flores aplastadas y copas de champán, con la cabeza agachada, su expresión ilegible. Dejó escapar una risita amarga. Era tarde. Las calles afuera estaban tranquilas y vacías. Claudia salió del club sin ganas de ir a casa. Vagó junto al río, el frío de la noche calándole la piel. Entonces, se detuvo en seco. Los vellos de su nuca se erizaron: alguien la seguía. Levantó su teléfono, fingiendo tomar una selfie, inclinándolo lo justo para ver el reflejo detrás de ella. Un grupo de hombres, sombras acercándose. Su pulso se disparó. Empezó a caminar más rápido. Ellos también. Su pulgar se cernió sobre su contacto de emergencia —el número que Jasper la había obligado a configurar hacía un año. En aquel entonces, le había roto el brazo a un acosador por molestar a una chica y había terminado en la comisaría. Jasper la sacó bajo fianza, regañándola durante todo el trayecto a casa por ser imprudente. Se había puesto a sí mismo como su contacto de emergencia, haciéndole prometer que si alguna vez estaba en peligro, lo llamaría a él, sin heroísmos, sin orgullo. Había jurado que sin importar dónde o cuándo, iría por ella. Nunca imaginó que la primera vez que llamaría sería así. "¿Claudia?" La voz de Jasper llegó, baja y cansada. Estaba en el hospital. El accidente de Lydia no había sido grave, pero ella era frágil —nacida prematura, se alteraba fácilmente. Solo él podía calmarla. Todo el clan Lancaster estaba acampado fuera. Lydia acababa de quedarse dormida cuando llegó la llamada, despertándola de un salto. "Jasper, alguien me está siguiendo." Silencio. Luego, su voz, fría, desdeñosa. "Claudia, realmente no puedo irme esta noche. No montes una escena." Pensó que estaba mintiendo, intentando alejarlo otra vez del lado de la cama de Lydia. Justo entonces, la madre de Lydia, Lottie Wallace, entró con un vaso de agua. Su rostro suave y elegante se endureció al ver el teléfono en la mano de Jasper. "¡Claudia!", espetó. "Lydia acaba de tener un accidente, y ni siquiera te molestas en visitar. ¿Ahora estás quién sabe dónde, inventando historias? ¿Cuándo vas a crecer? Escucha: nadie se va esta noche. Deja ya tus juegos mezquinos." Colgó sin dudar. En la cama, Lydia yacía pálida y temblorosa. Su voz era pequeña, vacilante. "Mamá, no te enfades. ¿Y si Claudia realmente está en problemas?" Lottie suspiró, la decepción grabada a fuego. "¿Qué problemas podría tener? Esta no es la primera vez que intenta algo cuando tú estás enferma." En la secundaria, Claudia una vez había llamado a casa en medio de la noche, diciendo que la habían secuestrado y exigiendo dinero de rescate. Esa misma noche, Lydia había caído enferma. La familia ya estaba en pánico, y la supuesta llamada de rescate casi le da un infarto a Lottie. Habían corrido a la ubicación, solo para encontrar a Claudia saliendo ilesa, sin un rasguño. Para cuando volvieron a casa, Lydia se había desplomado en el suelo, sola. Era demasiado tarde cuando finalmente la llevaron al hospital. El doctor dijo que con otro retraso, no habría sobrevivido. Esa noche, el padre de Claudia la había golpeado hasta dejarla sangrando. Pasó un mes en el hospital, y nunca se disculpó. La voz de Lottie se suavizó, cargada de decepción. "¿Cuándo se volvió así mi dulce niña?" Jasper conocía cada palabra de esa historia. Incluso había sido él quien llevaba snacks a escondidas a la cama de Claudia en el hospital después, contando chistes estúpidos para hacerla reír. Pero esta noche era diferente. Se dijo a sí mismo que solo estaba haciendo una rabieta por la propuesta arruinada. No tenía energía para sus pataletas. Mañana, cuando se calmara, hablaría con ella, la haría sonreír de nuevo. Colgó, apartó el cabello de la frente de Lydia y susurró: "Se te ha ido la fiebre. Pórtate bien. Duerme." Los ojos de Lydia brillaron con culpa y suavidad. "Jasper, lo siento por esta noche. Es toda mi culpa. Si no fuera tan débil—" "No. Nunca eres una carga." "Jasper…" "Duerme." Sus pestañas aletearon y se cerraron, y una pequeña sonrisa curvó sus labios. Dormiría tranquila esa noche. … Detrás de Claudia, los hombres se acercaban, lentos, perezosos, como gatos jugando con un ratón. Ella siguió corriendo, la voz de Jasper y el regaño de Lottie resonando en su mente. Tal vez había estado decepcionada demasiadas veces, porque ni siquiera se sentía triste ya, solo vacía. Hueca. La noche de abril era cálida, pero cortaba como cristal. La empujaron a un rincón oscuro. Claudia se detuvo bajo un árbol, su expresión calmada, los ojos bajándose al suelo. Entonces, se movió. Quince minutos después, los hombres yacían esparcidos por el pavimento —brazos retorcidos, piernas rotas, gimiendo de dolor. Claudia, sin aliento y sangrando, se dejó caer en el bordillo. Agarró su teléfono con una mano resbaladiza de sangre y marcó al 911. Después de ese lío en octavo grado, había empezado kickboxing y defensa personal. Había aprendido pronto: nadie vendría a salvarla. Uno de los hombres, con el brazo doblado en la dirección incorrecta, empezó a arrastrarse hacia ella. Los ojos de Claudia se posaron sobre él, fríos y afilados. Antes de que pudiera moverse, una bota cayó con fuerza, enviando al tipo volando. Una sombra se cernió sobre ella: un hombre alto con una sonrisa perezosa y el tipo de rostro que podría salirse con la suya cometiendo un asesinato. La miró desde arriba, haciendo un clic suave con la lengua. "Tss. ¿De dónde ha salido esta criaturita?" Capítulo 3 Sterling Romero salió de la Mansión Romero esa noche, lo suficientemente enfadado como para dejar su coche a medio camino a casa y sacar al perro a pasear. Lo que no esperaba era toparse con esa escena. Allí estaba ella, un capullo de rosa hermoso y malherido, acorralado por una jauría de callejeros desaliñados. Parecía frágil, pero la forma en que levantaba la barbilla, los ojos ardiendo de desafío, lo atrajo directamente de vuelta al cachorro de lobo huérfano con el que había vivido en las montañas casi un mes cuando tenía diez años. Todo fanfarronería y dientes al descubierto, guardando su pequeño trozo de tierra. Débil, pero ardiendo de vida. Ese lobo había muerto por sus manos al final. ¿Y esta chica? Era el mismo tipo de criatura: pequeña, espinosa y lista para hacer sangrar a quien intentara hacerle daño. Su rostro ni siquiera se inmutó mientras rompía los brazos de esos matones como si fueran ramitas. Nada la conmovía. Sterling, que rara vez se preocupaba por nada, sintió un destello de interés que no podía sacudirse. En contra de su mejor juicio, intervino. De cerca, era aún más difícil de olvidar. Esos ojos, oscuros, claros, brillantes como una noche después de la lluvia, se engancharon en algo enterrado profundamente dentro de él. Cuando ella levantó la vista, sobresaltada, había un destello de luz estelar que le hizo picar los dedos, con ganas de alargar la mano, de cubrir esos ojos afilados e intrépidos. Bien. Ya había intervenido. Mejor llevarlo hasta el final. Y, honestamente, necesitaba desahogarse. El callejón se llenó de gritos. Hacía un minuto, esos matones solo estaban demasiado heridos para arrastrarse. ¿Ahora? Estaban hechos pedazos: brazos inútiles, piernas rotas, el pánico espeso en el aire. Se arrepentían de todo. El trabajo había sido simple: golpearla un poco, nada grave. Su jefe incluso les había advertido que no dejaran marcas. Pero ella era demasiado hermosa, y unos cuantos se volvieron codiciosos. ¿Quién podría haber imaginado que la belleza delicada pegaba como un demonio, y lo que era peor, que un hombre como él aparecería de la nada? Frío, letal, como la Muerte misma con un abrigo de diseñador. Si el asesinato fuera legal, estaban seguros de que les habría roto el cuello sin pestañear. El cabecilla ya estaba perdiendo la cabeza. Sterling volvió paseando hasta donde la chica yacía observando desde el suelo. Su tono llevaba un rastro de diversión maliciosa. "Eres rápida, pero no lo suficiente despiadada. Si dejas cabos sueltos así, volverán para morderte. Entonces, pequeña callejera, ¿cómo piensas pagarme esta noche?" Claudia, que podría haber manejado la pelea bien por sí sola, y que ahora de alguna manera le debía algo a este extraño, guardó silencio. Tumbada de espaldas, el rostro surcado de sangre y polvo, de alguna manera parecía irreal en la oscuridad. Sterling frunció el ceño. Sucio. Se inclinó para levantar a la silenciosa rosa a sus pies, entonces algo lo empujó con fuerza. Tropezó, perdió el equilibrio y cayó justo encima de ella. Su peso aplastó su brazo herido; su mano izquierda aterrizó sobre algo más suave. Sus dedos se tensaron y apretaron antes de que su cerebro reaccionara. Se quedó helado. Ella también. Sus ojos se encontraron, muy abiertos en mutua conmoción. A unos metros de distancia, el perro pastor culpable se sentó parpadeando, como diciendo: Por favor, no me vean. Inmovilizada bajo un extraño, con todo dolorido, Claudia respiró hondo y tembloroso. Guapo o no, un grupo seguía siendo un grupo. Su expresión calmada se volvió feroz. Sterling oyó las primeras palabras de la rosa para él esa noche. "¿Nadie te dijo nunca?" "¿Decirme qué?" "Que no metas la nariz en los asuntos de otros." Antes de que la última palabra se desvaneciera, le rodeó el cuello con los brazos y lo tiró hacia abajo. Sus frentes chocaron con un crujido. El dolor se disparó. "¡Agente! ¡Por aquí!" Su voz sonó clara. Segundos después, las sirenas partieron la noche. Los policías vinieron corriendo. Sterling, al darse cuenta de que acababa de ser utilizado, dejó escapar una risa baja e incrédula. "¿Así tratas a tu salvador?" Terminó tumbado exactamente donde ella había estado, su voz goteando sarcasmo. Claudia se puso de pie, medio en sombras, y le dedicó una sonrisa delgada. "Obviamente. Soy la villana desagradecida, ¿recuerdas?" … Esa noche, el chico de oro de Liberty City, el heredero de Romero Corporation, fue llevado a la comisaría. Clint apareció rápido con un abogado, echando miradas furtivas a la chica que despertó la rara misericordia del Segador… y luego lo denunció por acoso. ¿Valiente, verdad? Era hermosa, y claramente no le temía a nada. Una vez que los matones fueron registrados, Clint se preparó, esperando a que Sterling dijera la palabra: Encárgate de ella. En cambio, Sterling dijo: "Averigua quién es." "¿Quién?" La palabra se le escapó antes de que Clint pudiera detenerse. Sterling nunca mostraba interés en ninguna mujer. La sola idea daba miedo. La mirada de Sterling se clavó en él, lo suficientemente afilada para hacerlo callar. "Sí, señor", murmuró Clint rápidamente. Mirando a la chica alejarse a zancadas después de lanzar una última mirada ardiente por encima del hombro, Clint sintió una punzada de lástima. Eso era todo. Ella y toda su familia estaban acabadas. … Ajena a la tormenta que acababa de desatar, Claudia se arrastró a casa al amanecer, perseguida por una ráfaga de llamadas. Su padre, Wilson Lancaster, la recibió en la puerta con una bofetada sonora. "¿Cómo he criado a una hija como tú?" No esquivó a tiempo. Su mejilla pálida enrojeció e hinchó. La habitación se quedó helada. Jasper frunció el ceño, con dolor destellando en sus ojos. Se obligó a no intervenir. Claudia había cruzado la línea esta vez; si no aprendía, quién sabía qué caos provocaría después. Aun así… Wilson había golpeado demasiado fuerte. La visión le retorció algo en el pecho. Lottie, Clarence y Zane llevaban la misma expresión enfadada y decepcionada. En el sofá, los ojos de Lydia brillaban con una alegría mal disimulada. Había estado furiosa la noche anterior porque los cretinos que contrató habían metido la pata y terminado en la comisaría. Por suerte, había cubierto sus huellas. Habían afirmado que fue solo un agarre "en un momento de arrebato", y como no pasó nada grave, no había nada que la vinculara a ella. Había sido dada de alta esa mañana y soltó el cebo que tenía preparado desde hacía tiempo. Los Lancaster se lo tragaron entero. Después de desaparecer toda la noche, nadie preguntó dónde había estado Claudia, ni notó sus heridas. La recibieron con una bofetada. Esa era su familia. Claudia no discutió. Caminó directamente hacia la pequeña Lydia, presumida y satisfecha.
Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now.Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now. Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia Capítulo 1 ¡Bum! Las puertas de la sala del evento se abrieron de golpe. "¡Algo le ha pasado a Lydia!", gritó un hombre al entrar tambaleándose, con el pánico pintado en el rostro. Las palabras impactaron como una bomba. La sala —decorada con flores, lazos y música romántica, bullendo de emoción por la propuesta— quedó instantáneamente en silencio. El hombre en el centro de atención, aún de rodillas, con el anillo en la mano, se giró sobresaltado. "¿Qué acabas de decir?" Quade Zimmer, con su pelo teñido de azul tan estridente como su voz, soltó: "¡La señora Lancaster acaba de llamar! ¡Lydia ha tenido un accidente de coche! ¡Está en el hospital ahora mismo!" Apenas habían salido las palabras de su boca cuando estalló el caos: sillas arrastrándose, tacones repiqueteando, gente apresurándose hacia la puerta. No era una exageración decir que Lydia Wallace era la chica de moda de su círculo: hermosa, talentosa, frágil de esa forma desgarradora que hacía que la gente quisiera protegerla. Todos la adoraban, la compadecían, la veneraban. ¿Y ahora que su diosa estaba herida? A nadie le quedaba corazón para seguir celebrando una propuesta de matrimonio cuya respuesta todos ya conocían. Incluso el chico que proponía lo dejó todo y salió corriendo. "Jasper—" La voz que pronunció su nombre llegó por detrás —suave, apenas más que un suspiro. Fue entonces cuando todos finalmente se dieron cuenta: la mujer a la que le estaban pidiendo matrimonio no había dicho ni una palabra en todo este tiempo. Alguien debió de haber dado a los interruptores en el caos, porque la sala se oscureció. La única luz provenía de las suaves lámparas de la pared. En un rincón, mitad en sombras, mitad en luz, estaba Claudia Lancaster. Su belleza no era del tipo dulce y gentil —era marcada, impactante, inolvidable. Pero en ese momento, su calma resultaba inquietante. Su expresión no revelaba nada. "¿No quieres oír mi respuesta?", preguntó en voz baja. Hacía apenas un minuto, Jasper Fenton le había pedido que se casara con él. Ahora, a medio camino de la puerta, se detuvo en seco. Ni siquiera intentó explicarse. "Claudia, lo siento. Tengo que ir al hospital. Vete a casa primero, ¿vale?" "¿Y si no te dejo ir?" Su voz se mantuvo firme. "Jasper, sabes que la odio." Jasper suspiró, exasperado. "Claudia, ahora no. No es momento para empezar una pelea." "Mi respuesta… puede que solo la obtengas una vez", dijo, tan calmada como siempre. Algo en su tono le hizo hacer una pausa. Normalmente, en cuanto salía el nombre de Lydia, Claudia estallaba —espetando, poniendo los ojos en blanco, maldiciendo a Lydia entre dientes. Pero esta noche, estaba fría, distante. Casi como si lo hubiera estado esperando. Un destello de inquietud le recorrió la espalda a Jasper. "Oh, por favor", intervino Quade, poniendo los ojos en blanco. "Has estado obsesionada con Jasper desde, ¿qué, la secundaria? El tipo finalmente te propone matrimonio y ¿se supone que debemos creer que dirías que no?" "Sí, alguien podría estar muriéndose en serio. Te pueden proponer matrimonio cualquier otro día", añadió alguien más. "¡Exacto! Las familias arreglaron esto hace siglos, toda esta cosa es solo por apariencias." Los comentarios dolían, pero Claudia ni siquiera parpadeó. Sus ojos oscuros permanecieron clavados en Jasper. Esperando. Jasper dejó escapar otro suspiro y volvió hacia ella. Como siempre, le despeinó el cabello como si fuera una niña. "Pórtate bien, ¿vale? No montes una escena. Lydia podría estar gravemente herida. Este no es el momento para una rabieta." Siempre era así. Cada vez que Lydia estaba involucrada, Jasper nunca preguntaba quién tenía razón o no. Corría a consolar a Lydia primero, y luego volvía a regañar a Claudia, suave y paciente, como si fuera una niña mimada que simplemente no entendía. Así se sentía amar a alguien desde abajo. No importaba cuánto gritaras, tu ira era solo "graciosa". Nunca seria. ¿Esta propuesta? Nunca había sido una pregunta real. Jasper ya sabía cuál debería haber sido su respuesta. "¡Oh, al diablo con esto, no puedo quedarme callada más tiempo!" Whitney Sawyer golpeó su bolso de mano contra algo, con furia destellando en sus ojos. Había estado aguantándose desde que Quade irrumpió, pero ya era suficiente. "Jasper, ¿eres su novio o su ambulancia personal? ¿Cómo es que cada vez que Lydia sufre 'un accidente', te llama a ti? Siempre perfectamente sincronizado, siempre arruinando tus planes. ¡La última vez fue una cita, ahora es tu propuesta! ¿Qué, no podía esperar a morirse cinco minutos?" Como mejor amiga de Claudia, Whitney había pasado semanas planeando esta propuesta. Y ahora, una vez más, Lydia la había secuestrado, y Jasper había caído directamente en la trampa. La furia de Whitney se extendió como un incendio forestal. "¡Y el resto de ustedes! ¿Para qué corren, a visitarla o a planear su funeral? ¡A este paso, Lydia ya debería haber muerto cien veces!" "¡Whitney!" El rostro de Jasper se ensombreció; el hombre gentil y afable desapareció. Su voz sonó como un latigazo. "Mide tus palabras." "Oh, perdóname." La voz de Whitney subió de tono, aguda y furiosa. "¿No soportas oír criticar a tu preciosa Lydia? Jasper, ¿acaso recuerdas quién es tu novia?" Los ojos de Jasper se helaron. Claudia le agarró el brazo a Whitney, con voz tranquila pero firme. "Si sales por esa puerta, Jasper, terminamos." Ya se había perdido demasiado tiempo. Jasper se pellizcó el puente de la nariz y suspiró. "No digas algo de lo que te arrepentirás. Claudia, hablaremos cuando vuelva." Se dio la vuelta y salió con paso firme, sin mirar atrás. Ni siquiera sabía lo graves que eran las lesiones de Lydia, solo sabía que tenía que ir. Se dijo a sí mismo: Cuando vuelva, lo compensaré. Le haré una propuesta aún mejor. También tomó nota mental de decirle a Claudia que se alejara de Whitney; claramente esa chica le estaba llenando la cabeza de tonterías. La sala se hundió bajo el peso de todo. Incluso aquellos que pensaban que Claudia estaba siendo dramática se mordieron la lengua. Nadie quería contrariar a Jasper, ni a los Sawyer. Uno a uno, se escabulleron. En minutos, el lugar era irreconocible. Pétalos de rosa aplastados y lazos cubrían el suelo. Botellas de vino rodaban bajo las sillas. Glaseado embadurnaba la alfombra. Toda la escena parecía una parodia de lo que había sido, burlándose de lo ridículo que era todo. Mientras los últimos rezagados se quedaban, alguien frunció el ceño. "Esperen… Lydia es la hija adoptiva de los Lancaster, ¿verdad? Oí que es prima de Claudia. ¿Por qué nadie llamó a Claudia también?" "¿Llamarla? ¿Qué, quieren empeorar aún más las lesiones de Lydia?" "Vaya, ¿qué se supone que significa eso?" "Lo de siempre. Que la señorita Lancaster es fría, cruel, desagradecida… ya sabes cómo va." Los susurros comenzaron de nuevo, suaves, venenosos y familiares. Siempre lo hacían cuando el nombre de Lydia salía junto al de Claudia. El rostro de Whitney ardía de ira. Se volvió hacia Claudia, de repente preocupada. Los cotilleos de extraños no importaban, pero ¿la traición de alguien a quien amas? Eso siempre calaba más hondo. Claudia observó la espalda de Jasper mientras se alejaba, cada paso alejándolo más de ella. Era como ver los años escurriéndose entre sus dedos, el chico con el que había crecido desvaneciéndose a lo lejos. Whitney le había preguntado una vez: Si nada hubiera interrumpido esta noche, ¿habrías dicho que sí? Pero, honestamente: No importara cuál fuera su respuesta, el final habría sido el mismo. Lydia nunca la dejaría ganar. Y Jasper nunca la elegiría a ella. En el momento en que le dio la espalda, no se dio cuenta de que, aunque el futuro pueda parecer interminable, la mujer dispuesta a esperarte no dura para siempre. Jasper… esta vez, realmente te dejo ir. En la mesa, entre el desorden, el teléfono de Claudia vibró. Una notificación de WhatsApp apareció, breve y suficiente. "Perdiste." Capítulo 2 Tres días antes, Lydia había acorralado a Claudia. "Sabes que Jasper está a punto de proponerte matrimonio, ¿verdad?" Sus bonitos ojos brillaban, no de emoción, sino de celos y malicia. "Oí que ambas familias querían pasar directamente a la fiesta de compromiso, pero él insistió en hacerlo bien. Dijo que necesitaba oír tu 'sí' él mismo, o no significaría nada. Ayy, qué romántico, ¿no?" "¿Y qué?" Claudia levantó la vista, su tono plano, sin inmutarse. La sonrisa de Lydia se curvó, afilada y venenosa. "¿Y qué? Claudia, ¿qué hace que una pecadora como tú crea que merece felicidad?" Se inclinó más cerca, con voz azucarada pero goteando veneno. "¿Quieres apostar? En tres días, esa propuesta ni siquiera ocurrirá." Claudia solo la miró fijamente. Para todos los demás, Lydia era pura perfección: de voz suave, gentil, toda gracia y luz. Nadie creería que a puerta cerrada podía escupir veneno así. Podría haber detenido la propuesta en cualquier momento que quisiera. Pero no. A Lydia le gustaba el drama. Quería esperar hasta el acto final, para empujar a Claudia fuera del escenario ella misma. Como siempre hacía. … Después de que la propuesta se fuera al traste, el teléfono de Whitney sonó. Una mirada a la identificación de la llamada, y su rostro se demudó. Maldijo entre dientes y salió corriendo. Había planeado dejar a Claudia primero —Claudia había llegado en el coche de Jasper—, pero cuando Claudia se dio cuenta de que algo pasaba con la madre de Whitney, la instó a irse. Cuando todos los demás se habían ido, Claudia se quedó entre los escombros de flores aplastadas y copas de champán, con la cabeza agachada, su expresión ilegible. Dejó escapar una risita amarga. Era tarde. Las calles afuera estaban tranquilas y vacías. Claudia salió del club sin ganas de ir a casa. Vagó junto al río, el frío de la noche calándole la piel. Entonces, se detuvo en seco. Los vellos de su nuca se erizaron: alguien la seguía. Levantó su teléfono, fingiendo tomar una selfie, inclinándolo lo justo para ver el reflejo detrás de ella. Un grupo de hombres, sombras acercándose. Su pulso se disparó. Empezó a caminar más rápido. Ellos también. Su pulgar se cernió sobre su contacto de emergencia —el número que Jasper la había obligado a configurar hacía un año. En aquel entonces, le había roto el brazo a un acosador por molestar a una chica y había terminado en la comisaría. Jasper la sacó bajo fianza, regañándola durante todo el trayecto a casa por ser imprudente. Se había puesto a sí mismo como su contacto de emergencia, haciéndole prometer que si alguna vez estaba en peligro, lo llamaría a él, sin heroísmos, sin orgullo. Había jurado que sin importar dónde o cuándo, iría por ella. Nunca imaginó que la primera vez que llamaría sería así. "¿Claudia?" La voz de Jasper llegó, baja y cansada. Estaba en el hospital. El accidente de Lydia no había sido grave, pero ella era frágil —nacida prematura, se alteraba fácilmente. Solo él podía calmarla. Todo el clan Lancaster estaba acampado fuera. Lydia acababa de quedarse dormida cuando llegó la llamada, despertándola de un salto. "Jasper, alguien me está siguiendo." Silencio. Luego, su voz, fría, desdeñosa. "Claudia, realmente no puedo irme esta noche. No montes una escena." Pensó que estaba mintiendo, intentando alejarlo otra vez del lado de la cama de Lydia. Justo entonces, la madre de Lydia, Lottie Wallace, entró con un vaso de agua. Su rostro suave y elegante se endureció al ver el teléfono en la mano de Jasper. "¡Claudia!", espetó. "Lydia acaba de tener un accidente, y ni siquiera te molestas en visitar. ¿Ahora estás quién sabe dónde, inventando historias? ¿Cuándo vas a crecer? Escucha: nadie se va esta noche. Deja ya tus juegos mezquinos." Colgó sin dudar. En la cama, Lydia yacía pálida y temblorosa. Su voz era pequeña, vacilante. "Mamá, no te enfades. ¿Y si Claudia realmente está en problemas?" Lottie suspiró, la decepción grabada a fuego. "¿Qué problemas podría tener? Esta no es la primera vez que intenta algo cuando tú estás enferma." En la secundaria, Claudia una vez había llamado a casa en medio de la noche, diciendo que la habían secuestrado y exigiendo dinero de rescate. Esa misma noche, Lydia había caído enferma. La familia ya estaba en pánico, y la supuesta llamada de rescate casi le da un infarto a Lottie. Habían corrido a la ubicación, solo para encontrar a Claudia saliendo ilesa, sin un rasguño. Para cuando volvieron a casa, Lydia se había desplomado en el suelo, sola. Era demasiado tarde cuando finalmente la llevaron al hospital. El doctor dijo que con otro retraso, no habría sobrevivido. Esa noche, el padre de Claudia la había golpeado hasta dejarla sangrando. Pasó un mes en el hospital, y nunca se disculpó. La voz de Lottie se suavizó, cargada de decepción. "¿Cuándo se volvió así mi dulce niña?" Jasper conocía cada palabra de esa historia. Incluso había sido él quien llevaba snacks a escondidas a la cama de Claudia en el hospital después, contando chistes estúpidos para hacerla reír. Pero esta noche era diferente. Se dijo a sí mismo que solo estaba haciendo una rabieta por la propuesta arruinada. No tenía energía para sus pataletas. Mañana, cuando se calmara, hablaría con ella, la haría sonreír de nuevo. Colgó, apartó el cabello de la frente de Lydia y susurró: "Se te ha ido la fiebre. Pórtate bien. Duerme." Los ojos de Lydia brillaron con culpa y suavidad. "Jasper, lo siento por esta noche. Es toda mi culpa. Si no fuera tan débil—" "No. Nunca eres una carga." "Jasper…" "Duerme." Sus pestañas aletearon y se cerraron, y una pequeña sonrisa curvó sus labios. Dormiría tranquila esa noche. … Detrás de Claudia, los hombres se acercaban, lentos, perezosos, como gatos jugando con un ratón. Ella siguió corriendo, la voz de Jasper y el regaño de Lottie resonando en su mente. Tal vez había estado decepcionada demasiadas veces, porque ni siquiera se sentía triste ya, solo vacía. Hueca. La noche de abril era cálida, pero cortaba como cristal. La empujaron a un rincón oscuro. Claudia se detuvo bajo un árbol, su expresión calmada, los ojos bajándose al suelo. Entonces, se movió. Quince minutos después, los hombres yacían esparcidos por el pavimento —brazos retorcidos, piernas rotas, gimiendo de dolor. Claudia, sin aliento y sangrando, se dejó caer en el bordillo. Agarró su teléfono con una mano resbaladiza de sangre y marcó al 911. Después de ese lío en octavo grado, había empezado kickboxing y defensa personal. Había aprendido pronto: nadie vendría a salvarla. Uno de los hombres, con el brazo doblado en la dirección incorrecta, empezó a arrastrarse hacia ella. Los ojos de Claudia se posaron sobre él, fríos y afilados. Antes de que pudiera moverse, una bota cayó con fuerza, enviando al tipo volando. Una sombra se cernió sobre ella: un hombre alto con una sonrisa perezosa y el tipo de rostro que podría salirse con la suya cometiendo un asesinato. La miró desde arriba, haciendo un clic suave con la lengua. "Tss. ¿De dónde ha salido esta criaturita?" Capítulo 3 Sterling Romero salió de la Mansión Romero esa noche, lo suficientemente enfadado como para dejar su coche a medio camino a casa y sacar al perro a pasear. Lo que no esperaba era toparse con esa escena. Allí estaba ella, un capullo de rosa hermoso y malherido, acorralado por una jauría de callejeros desaliñados. Parecía frágil, pero la forma en que levantaba la barbilla, los ojos ardiendo de desafío, lo atrajo directamente de vuelta al cachorro de lobo huérfano con el que había vivido en las montañas casi un mes cuando tenía diez años. Todo fanfarronería y dientes al descubierto, guardando su pequeño trozo de tierra. Débil, pero ardiendo de vida. Ese lobo había muerto por sus manos al final. ¿Y esta chica? Era el mismo tipo de criatura: pequeña, espinosa y lista para hacer sangrar a quien intentara hacerle daño. Su rostro ni siquiera se inmutó mientras rompía los brazos de esos matones como si fueran ramitas. Nada la conmovía. Sterling, que rara vez se preocupaba por nada, sintió un destello de interés que no podía sacudirse. En contra de su mejor juicio, intervino. De cerca, era aún más difícil de olvidar. Esos ojos, oscuros, claros, brillantes como una noche después de la lluvia, se engancharon en algo enterrado profundamente dentro de él. Cuando ella levantó la vista, sobresaltada, había un destello de luz estelar que le hizo picar los dedos, con ganas de alargar la mano, de cubrir esos ojos afilados e intrépidos. Bien. Ya había intervenido. Mejor llevarlo hasta el final. Y, honestamente, necesitaba desahogarse. El callejón se llenó de gritos. Hacía un minuto, esos matones solo estaban demasiado heridos para arrastrarse. ¿Ahora? Estaban hechos pedazos: brazos inútiles, piernas rotas, el pánico espeso en el aire. Se arrepentían de todo. El trabajo había sido simple: golpearla un poco, nada grave. Su jefe incluso les había advertido que no dejaran marcas. Pero ella era demasiado hermosa, y unos cuantos se volvieron codiciosos. ¿Quién podría haber imaginado que la belleza delicada pegaba como un demonio, y lo que era peor, que un hombre como él aparecería de la nada? Frío, letal, como la Muerte misma con un abrigo de diseñador. Si el asesinato fuera legal, estaban seguros de que les habría roto el cuello sin pestañear. El cabecilla ya estaba perdiendo la cabeza. Sterling volvió paseando hasta donde la chica yacía observando desde el suelo. Su tono llevaba un rastro de diversión maliciosa. "Eres rápida, pero no lo suficiente despiadada. Si dejas cabos sueltos así, volverán para morderte. Entonces, pequeña callejera, ¿cómo piensas pagarme esta noche?" Claudia, que podría haber manejado la pelea bien por sí sola, y que ahora de alguna manera le debía algo a este extraño, guardó silencio. Tumbada de espaldas, el rostro surcado de sangre y polvo, de alguna manera parecía irreal en la oscuridad. Sterling frunció el ceño. Sucio. Se inclinó para levantar a la silenciosa rosa a sus pies, entonces algo lo empujó con fuerza. Tropezó, perdió el equilibrio y cayó justo encima de ella. Su peso aplastó su brazo herido; su mano izquierda aterrizó sobre algo más suave. Sus dedos se tensaron y apretaron antes de que su cerebro reaccionara. Se quedó helado. Ella también. Sus ojos se encontraron, muy abiertos en mutua conmoción. A unos metros de distancia, el perro pastor culpable se sentó parpadeando, como diciendo: Por favor, no me vean. Inmovilizada bajo un extraño, con todo dolorido, Claudia respiró hondo y tembloroso. Guapo o no, un grupo seguía siendo un grupo. Su expresión calmada se volvió feroz. Sterling oyó las primeras palabras de la rosa para él esa noche. "¿Nadie te dijo nunca?" "¿Decirme qué?" "Que no metas la nariz en los asuntos de otros." Antes de que la última palabra se desvaneciera, le rodeó el cuello con los brazos y lo tiró hacia abajo. Sus frentes chocaron con un crujido. El dolor se disparó. "¡Agente! ¡Por aquí!" Su voz sonó clara. Segundos después, las sirenas partieron la noche. Los policías vinieron corriendo. Sterling, al darse cuenta de que acababa de ser utilizado, dejó escapar una risa baja e incrédula. "¿Así tratas a tu salvador?" Terminó tumbado exactamente donde ella había estado, su voz goteando sarcasmo. Claudia se puso de pie, medio en sombras, y le dedicó una sonrisa delgada. "Obviamente. Soy la villana desagradecida, ¿recuerdas?" … Esa noche, el chico de oro de Liberty City, el heredero de Romero Corporation, fue llevado a la comisaría. Clint apareció rápido con un abogado, echando miradas furtivas a la chica que despertó la rara misericordia del Segador… y luego lo denunció por acoso. ¿Valiente, verdad? Era hermosa, y claramente no le temía a nada. Una vez que los matones fueron registrados, Clint se preparó, esperando a que Sterling dijera la palabra: Encárgate de ella. En cambio, Sterling dijo: "Averigua quién es." "¿Quién?" La palabra se le escapó antes de que Clint pudiera detenerse. Sterling nunca mostraba interés en ninguna mujer. La sola idea daba miedo. La mirada de Sterling se clavó en él, lo suficientemente afilada para hacerlo callar. "Sí, señor", murmuró Clint rápidamente. Mirando a la chica alejarse a zancadas después de lanzar una última mirada ardiente por encima del hombro, Clint sintió una punzada de lástima. Eso era todo. Ella y toda su familia estaban acabadas. … Ajena a la tormenta que acababa de desatar, Claudia se arrastró a casa al amanecer, perseguida por una ráfaga de llamadas. Su padre, Wilson Lancaster, la recibió en la puerta con una bofetada sonora. "¿Cómo he criado a una hija como tú?" No esquivó a tiempo. Su mejilla pálida enrojeció e hinchó. La habitación se quedó helada. Jasper frunció el ceño, con dolor destellando en sus ojos. Se obligó a no intervenir. Claudia había cruzado la línea esta vez; si no aprendía, quién sabía qué caos provocaría después. Aun así… Wilson había golpeado demasiado fuerte. La visión le retorció algo en el pecho. Lottie, Clarence y Zane llevaban la misma expresión enfadada y decepcionada. En el sofá, los ojos de Lydia brillaban con una alegría mal disimulada. Había estado furiosa la noche anterior porque los cretinos que contrató habían metido la pata y terminado en la comisaría. Por suerte, había cubierto sus huellas. Habían afirmado que fue solo un agarre "en un momento de arrebato", y como no pasó nada grave, no había nada que la vinculara a ella. Había sido dada de alta esa mañana y soltó el cebo que tenía preparado desde hacía tiempo. Los Lancaster se lo tragaron entero. Después de desaparecer toda la noche, nadie preguntó dónde había estado Claudia, ni notó sus heridas. La recibieron con una bofetada. Esa era su familia. Claudia no discutió. Caminó directamente hacia la pequeña Lydia, presumida y satisfecha.
Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now.Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now. Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia Capítulo 1 ¡Bum! Las puertas de la sala del evento se abrieron de golpe. "¡Algo le ha pasado a Lydia!", gritó un hombre al entrar tambaleándose, con el pánico pintado en el rostro. Las palabras impactaron como una bomba. La sala —decorada con flores, lazos y música romántica, bullendo de emoción por la propuesta— quedó instantáneamente en silencio. El hombre en el centro de atención, aún de rodillas, con el anillo en la mano, se giró sobresaltado. "¿Qué acabas de decir?" Quade Zimmer, con su pelo teñido de azul tan estridente como su voz, soltó: "¡La señora Lancaster acaba de llamar! ¡Lydia ha tenido un accidente de coche! ¡Está en el hospital ahora mismo!" Apenas habían salido las palabras de su boca cuando estalló el caos: sillas arrastrándose, tacones repiqueteando, gente apresurándose hacia la puerta. No era una exageración decir que Lydia Wallace era la chica de moda de su círculo: hermosa, talentosa, frágil de esa forma desgarradora que hacía que la gente quisiera protegerla. Todos la adoraban, la compadecían, la veneraban. ¿Y ahora que su diosa estaba herida? A nadie le quedaba corazón para seguir celebrando una propuesta de matrimonio cuya respuesta todos ya conocían. Incluso el chico que proponía lo dejó todo y salió corriendo. "Jasper—" La voz que pronunció su nombre llegó por detrás —suave, apenas más que un suspiro. Fue entonces cuando todos finalmente se dieron cuenta: la mujer a la que le estaban pidiendo matrimonio no había dicho ni una palabra en todo este tiempo. Alguien debió de haber dado a los interruptores en el caos, porque la sala se oscureció. La única luz provenía de las suaves lámparas de la pared. En un rincón, mitad en sombras, mitad en luz, estaba Claudia Lancaster. Su belleza no era del tipo dulce y gentil —era marcada, impactante, inolvidable. Pero en ese momento, su calma resultaba inquietante. Su expresión no revelaba nada. "¿No quieres oír mi respuesta?", preguntó en voz baja. Hacía apenas un minuto, Jasper Fenton le había pedido que se casara con él. Ahora, a medio camino de la puerta, se detuvo en seco. Ni siquiera intentó explicarse. "Claudia, lo siento. Tengo que ir al hospital. Vete a casa primero, ¿vale?" "¿Y si no te dejo ir?" Su voz se mantuvo firme. "Jasper, sabes que la odio." Jasper suspiró, exasperado. "Claudia, ahora no. No es momento para empezar una pelea." "Mi respuesta… puede que solo la obtengas una vez", dijo, tan calmada como siempre. Algo en su tono le hizo hacer una pausa. Normalmente, en cuanto salía el nombre de Lydia, Claudia estallaba —espetando, poniendo los ojos en blanco, maldiciendo a Lydia entre dientes. Pero esta noche, estaba fría, distante. Casi como si lo hubiera estado esperando. Un destello de inquietud le recorrió la espalda a Jasper. "Oh, por favor", intervino Quade, poniendo los ojos en blanco. "Has estado obsesionada con Jasper desde, ¿qué, la secundaria? El tipo finalmente te propone matrimonio y ¿se supone que debemos creer que dirías que no?" "Sí, alguien podría estar muriéndose en serio. Te pueden proponer matrimonio cualquier otro día", añadió alguien más. "¡Exacto! Las familias arreglaron esto hace siglos, toda esta cosa es solo por apariencias." Los comentarios dolían, pero Claudia ni siquiera parpadeó. Sus ojos oscuros permanecieron clavados en Jasper. Esperando. Jasper dejó escapar otro suspiro y volvió hacia ella. Como siempre, le despeinó el cabello como si fuera una niña. "Pórtate bien, ¿vale? No montes una escena. Lydia podría estar gravemente herida. Este no es el momento para una rabieta." Siempre era así. Cada vez que Lydia estaba involucrada, Jasper nunca preguntaba quién tenía razón o no. Corría a consolar a Lydia primero, y luego volvía a regañar a Claudia, suave y paciente, como si fuera una niña mimada que simplemente no entendía. Así se sentía amar a alguien desde abajo. No importaba cuánto gritaras, tu ira era solo "graciosa". Nunca seria. ¿Esta propuesta? Nunca había sido una pregunta real. Jasper ya sabía cuál debería haber sido su respuesta. "¡Oh, al diablo con esto, no puedo quedarme callada más tiempo!" Whitney Sawyer golpeó su bolso de mano contra algo, con furia destellando en sus ojos. Había estado aguantándose desde que Quade irrumpió, pero ya era suficiente. "Jasper, ¿eres su novio o su ambulancia personal? ¿Cómo es que cada vez que Lydia sufre 'un accidente', te llama a ti? Siempre perfectamente sincronizado, siempre arruinando tus planes. ¡La última vez fue una cita, ahora es tu propuesta! ¿Qué, no podía esperar a morirse cinco minutos?" Como mejor amiga de Claudia, Whitney había pasado semanas planeando esta propuesta. Y ahora, una vez más, Lydia la había secuestrado, y Jasper había caído directamente en la trampa. La furia de Whitney se extendió como un incendio forestal. "¡Y el resto de ustedes! ¿Para qué corren, a visitarla o a planear su funeral? ¡A este paso, Lydia ya debería haber muerto cien veces!" "¡Whitney!" El rostro de Jasper se ensombreció; el hombre gentil y afable desapareció. Su voz sonó como un latigazo. "Mide tus palabras." "Oh, perdóname." La voz de Whitney subió de tono, aguda y furiosa. "¿No soportas oír criticar a tu preciosa Lydia? Jasper, ¿acaso recuerdas quién es tu novia?" Los ojos de Jasper se helaron. Claudia le agarró el brazo a Whitney, con voz tranquila pero firme. "Si sales por esa puerta, Jasper, terminamos." Ya se había perdido demasiado tiempo. Jasper se pellizcó el puente de la nariz y suspiró. "No digas algo de lo que te arrepentirás. Claudia, hablaremos cuando vuelva." Se dio la vuelta y salió con paso firme, sin mirar atrás. Ni siquiera sabía lo graves que eran las lesiones de Lydia, solo sabía que tenía que ir. Se dijo a sí mismo: Cuando vuelva, lo compensaré. Le haré una propuesta aún mejor. También tomó nota mental de decirle a Claudia que se alejara de Whitney; claramente esa chica le estaba llenando la cabeza de tonterías. La sala se hundió bajo el peso de todo. Incluso aquellos que pensaban que Claudia estaba siendo dramática se mordieron la lengua. Nadie quería contrariar a Jasper, ni a los Sawyer. Uno a uno, se escabulleron. En minutos, el lugar era irreconocible. Pétalos de rosa aplastados y lazos cubrían el suelo. Botellas de vino rodaban bajo las sillas. Glaseado embadurnaba la alfombra. Toda la escena parecía una parodia de lo que había sido, burlándose de lo ridículo que era todo. Mientras los últimos rezagados se quedaban, alguien frunció el ceño. "Esperen… Lydia es la hija adoptiva de los Lancaster, ¿verdad? Oí que es prima de Claudia. ¿Por qué nadie llamó a Claudia también?" "¿Llamarla? ¿Qué, quieren empeorar aún más las lesiones de Lydia?" "Vaya, ¿qué se supone que significa eso?" "Lo de siempre. Que la señorita Lancaster es fría, cruel, desagradecida… ya sabes cómo va." Los susurros comenzaron de nuevo, suaves, venenosos y familiares. Siempre lo hacían cuando el nombre de Lydia salía junto al de Claudia. El rostro de Whitney ardía de ira. Se volvió hacia Claudia, de repente preocupada. Los cotilleos de extraños no importaban, pero ¿la traición de alguien a quien amas? Eso siempre calaba más hondo. Claudia observó la espalda de Jasper mientras se alejaba, cada paso alejándolo más de ella. Era como ver los años escurriéndose entre sus dedos, el chico con el que había crecido desvaneciéndose a lo lejos. Whitney le había preguntado una vez: Si nada hubiera interrumpido esta noche, ¿habrías dicho que sí? Pero, honestamente: No importara cuál fuera su respuesta, el final habría sido el mismo. Lydia nunca la dejaría ganar. Y Jasper nunca la elegiría a ella. En el momento en que le dio la espalda, no se dio cuenta de que, aunque el futuro pueda parecer interminable, la mujer dispuesta a esperarte no dura para siempre. Jasper… esta vez, realmente te dejo ir. En la mesa, entre el desorden, el teléfono de Claudia vibró. Una notificación de WhatsApp apareció, breve y suficiente. "Perdiste." Capítulo 2 Tres días antes, Lydia había acorralado a Claudia. "Sabes que Jasper está a punto de proponerte matrimonio, ¿verdad?" Sus bonitos ojos brillaban, no de emoción, sino de celos y malicia. "Oí que ambas familias querían pasar directamente a la fiesta de compromiso, pero él insistió en hacerlo bien. Dijo que necesitaba oír tu 'sí' él mismo, o no significaría nada. Ayy, qué romántico, ¿no?" "¿Y qué?" Claudia levantó la vista, su tono plano, sin inmutarse. La sonrisa de Lydia se curvó, afilada y venenosa. "¿Y qué? Claudia, ¿qué hace que una pecadora como tú crea que merece felicidad?" Se inclinó más cerca, con voz azucarada pero goteando veneno. "¿Quieres apostar? En tres días, esa propuesta ni siquiera ocurrirá." Claudia solo la miró fijamente. Para todos los demás, Lydia era pura perfección: de voz suave, gentil, toda gracia y luz. Nadie creería que a puerta cerrada podía escupir veneno así. Podría haber detenido la propuesta en cualquier momento que quisiera. Pero no. A Lydia le gustaba el drama. Quería esperar hasta el acto final, para empujar a Claudia fuera del escenario ella misma. Como siempre hacía. … Después de que la propuesta se fuera al traste, el teléfono de Whitney sonó. Una mirada a la identificación de la llamada, y su rostro se demudó. Maldijo entre dientes y salió corriendo. Había planeado dejar a Claudia primero —Claudia había llegado en el coche de Jasper—, pero cuando Claudia se dio cuenta de que algo pasaba con la madre de Whitney, la instó a irse. Cuando todos los demás se habían ido, Claudia se quedó entre los escombros de flores aplastadas y copas de champán, con la cabeza agachada, su expresión ilegible. Dejó escapar una risita amarga. Era tarde. Las calles afuera estaban tranquilas y vacías. Claudia salió del club sin ganas de ir a casa. Vagó junto al río, el frío de la noche calándole la piel. Entonces, se detuvo en seco. Los vellos de su nuca se erizaron: alguien la seguía. Levantó su teléfono, fingiendo tomar una selfie, inclinándolo lo justo para ver el reflejo detrás de ella. Un grupo de hombres, sombras acercándose. Su pulso se disparó. Empezó a caminar más rápido. Ellos también. Su pulgar se cernió sobre su contacto de emergencia —el número que Jasper la había obligado a configurar hacía un año. En aquel entonces, le había roto el brazo a un acosador por molestar a una chica y había terminado en la comisaría. Jasper la sacó bajo fianza, regañándola durante todo el trayecto a casa por ser imprudente. Se había puesto a sí mismo como su contacto de emergencia, haciéndole prometer que si alguna vez estaba en peligro, lo llamaría a él, sin heroísmos, sin orgullo. Había jurado que sin importar dónde o cuándo, iría por ella. Nunca imaginó que la primera vez que llamaría sería así. "¿Claudia?" La voz de Jasper llegó, baja y cansada. Estaba en el hospital. El accidente de Lydia no había sido grave, pero ella era frágil —nacida prematura, se alteraba fácilmente. Solo él podía calmarla. Todo el clan Lancaster estaba acampado fuera. Lydia acababa de quedarse dormida cuando llegó la llamada, despertándola de un salto. "Jasper, alguien me está siguiendo." Silencio. Luego, su voz, fría, desdeñosa. "Claudia, realmente no puedo irme esta noche. No montes una escena." Pensó que estaba mintiendo, intentando alejarlo otra vez del lado de la cama de Lydia. Justo entonces, la madre de Lydia, Lottie Wallace, entró con un vaso de agua. Su rostro suave y elegante se endureció al ver el teléfono en la mano de Jasper. "¡Claudia!", espetó. "Lydia acaba de tener un accidente, y ni siquiera te molestas en visitar. ¿Ahora estás quién sabe dónde, inventando historias? ¿Cuándo vas a crecer? Escucha: nadie se va esta noche. Deja ya tus juegos mezquinos." Colgó sin dudar. En la cama, Lydia yacía pálida y temblorosa. Su voz era pequeña, vacilante. "Mamá, no te enfades. ¿Y si Claudia realmente está en problemas?" Lottie suspiró, la decepción grabada a fuego. "¿Qué problemas podría tener? Esta no es la primera vez que intenta algo cuando tú estás enferma." En la secundaria, Claudia una vez había llamado a casa en medio de la noche, diciendo que la habían secuestrado y exigiendo dinero de rescate. Esa misma noche, Lydia había caído enferma. La familia ya estaba en pánico, y la supuesta llamada de rescate casi le da un infarto a Lottie. Habían corrido a la ubicación, solo para encontrar a Claudia saliendo ilesa, sin un rasguño. Para cuando volvieron a casa, Lydia se había desplomado en el suelo, sola. Era demasiado tarde cuando finalmente la llevaron al hospital. El doctor dijo que con otro retraso, no habría sobrevivido. Esa noche, el padre de Claudia la había golpeado hasta dejarla sangrando. Pasó un mes en el hospital, y nunca se disculpó. La voz de Lottie se suavizó, cargada de decepción. "¿Cuándo se volvió así mi dulce niña?" Jasper conocía cada palabra de esa historia. Incluso había sido él quien llevaba snacks a escondidas a la cama de Claudia en el hospital después, contando chistes estúpidos para hacerla reír. Pero esta noche era diferente. Se dijo a sí mismo que solo estaba haciendo una rabieta por la propuesta arruinada. No tenía energía para sus pataletas. Mañana, cuando se calmara, hablaría con ella, la haría sonreír de nuevo. Colgó, apartó el cabello de la frente de Lydia y susurró: "Se te ha ido la fiebre. Pórtate bien. Duerme." Los ojos de Lydia brillaron con culpa y suavidad. "Jasper, lo siento por esta noche. Es toda mi culpa. Si no fuera tan débil—" "No. Nunca eres una carga." "Jasper…" "Duerme." Sus pestañas aletearon y se cerraron, y una pequeña sonrisa curvó sus labios. Dormiría tranquila esa noche. … Detrás de Claudia, los hombres se acercaban, lentos, perezosos, como gatos jugando con un ratón. Ella siguió corriendo, la voz de Jasper y el regaño de Lottie resonando en su mente. Tal vez había estado decepcionada demasiadas veces, porque ni siquiera se sentía triste ya, solo vacía. Hueca. La noche de abril era cálida, pero cortaba como cristal. La empujaron a un rincón oscuro. Claudia se detuvo bajo un árbol, su expresión calmada, los ojos bajándose al suelo. Entonces, se movió. Quince minutos después, los hombres yacían esparcidos por el pavimento —brazos retorcidos, piernas rotas, gimiendo de dolor. Claudia, sin aliento y sangrando, se dejó caer en el bordillo. Agarró su teléfono con una mano resbaladiza de sangre y marcó al 911. Después de ese lío en octavo grado, había empezado kickboxing y defensa personal. Había aprendido pronto: nadie vendría a salvarla. Uno de los hombres, con el brazo doblado en la dirección incorrecta, empezó a arrastrarse hacia ella. Los ojos de Claudia se posaron sobre él, fríos y afilados. Antes de que pudiera moverse, una bota cayó con fuerza, enviando al tipo volando. Una sombra se cernió sobre ella: un hombre alto con una sonrisa perezosa y el tipo de rostro que podría salirse con la suya cometiendo un asesinato. La miró desde arriba, haciendo un clic suave con la lengua. "Tss. ¿De dónde ha salido esta criaturita?" Capítulo 3 Sterling Romero salió de la Mansión Romero esa noche, lo suficientemente enfadado como para dejar su coche a medio camino a casa y sacar al perro a pasear. Lo que no esperaba era toparse con esa escena. Allí estaba ella, un capullo de rosa hermoso y malherido, acorralado por una jauría de callejeros desaliñados. Parecía frágil, pero la forma en que levantaba la barbilla, los ojos ardiendo de desafío, lo atrajo directamente de vuelta al cachorro de lobo huérfano con el que había vivido en las montañas casi un mes cuando tenía diez años. Todo fanfarronería y dientes al descubierto, guardando su pequeño trozo de tierra. Débil, pero ardiendo de vida. Ese lobo había muerto por sus manos al final. ¿Y esta chica? Era el mismo tipo de criatura: pequeña, espinosa y lista para hacer sangrar a quien intentara hacerle daño. Su rostro ni siquiera se inmutó mientras rompía los brazos de esos matones como si fueran ramitas. Nada la conmovía. Sterling, que rara vez se preocupaba por nada, sintió un destello de interés que no podía sacudirse. En contra de su mejor juicio, intervino. De cerca, era aún más difícil de olvidar. Esos ojos, oscuros, claros, brillantes como una noche después de la lluvia, se engancharon en algo enterrado profundamente dentro de él. Cuando ella levantó la vista, sobresaltada, había un destello de luz estelar que le hizo picar los dedos, con ganas de alargar la mano, de cubrir esos ojos afilados e intrépidos. Bien. Ya había intervenido. Mejor llevarlo hasta el final. Y, honestamente, necesitaba desahogarse. El callejón se llenó de gritos. Hacía un minuto, esos matones solo estaban demasiado heridos para arrastrarse. ¿Ahora? Estaban hechos pedazos: brazos inútiles, piernas rotas, el pánico espeso en el aire. Se arrepentían de todo. El trabajo había sido simple: golpearla un poco, nada grave. Su jefe incluso les había advertido que no dejaran marcas. Pero ella era demasiado hermosa, y unos cuantos se volvieron codiciosos. ¿Quién podría haber imaginado que la belleza delicada pegaba como un demonio, y lo que era peor, que un hombre como él aparecería de la nada? Frío, letal, como la Muerte misma con un abrigo de diseñador. Si el asesinato fuera legal, estaban seguros de que les habría roto el cuello sin pestañear. El cabecilla ya estaba perdiendo la cabeza. Sterling volvió paseando hasta donde la chica yacía observando desde el suelo. Su tono llevaba un rastro de diversión maliciosa. "Eres rápida, pero no lo suficiente despiadada. Si dejas cabos sueltos así, volverán para morderte. Entonces, pequeña callejera, ¿cómo piensas pagarme esta noche?" Claudia, que podría haber manejado la pelea bien por sí sola, y que ahora de alguna manera le debía algo a este extraño, guardó silencio. Tumbada de espaldas, el rostro surcado de sangre y polvo, de alguna manera parecía irreal en la oscuridad. Sterling frunció el ceño. Sucio. Se inclinó para levantar a la silenciosa rosa a sus pies, entonces algo lo empujó con fuerza. Tropezó, perdió el equilibrio y cayó justo encima de ella. Su peso aplastó su brazo herido; su mano izquierda aterrizó sobre algo más suave. Sus dedos se tensaron y apretaron antes de que su cerebro reaccionara. Se quedó helado. Ella también. Sus ojos se encontraron, muy abiertos en mutua conmoción. A unos metros de distancia, el perro pastor culpable se sentó parpadeando, como diciendo: Por favor, no me vean. Inmovilizada bajo un extraño, con todo dolorido, Claudia respiró hondo y tembloroso. Guapo o no, un grupo seguía siendo un grupo. Su expresión calmada se volvió feroz. Sterling oyó las primeras palabras de la rosa para él esa noche. "¿Nadie te dijo nunca?" "¿Decirme qué?" "Que no metas la nariz en los asuntos de otros." Antes de que la última palabra se desvaneciera, le rodeó el cuello con los brazos y lo tiró hacia abajo. Sus frentes chocaron con un crujido. El dolor se disparó. "¡Agente! ¡Por aquí!" Su voz sonó clara. Segundos después, las sirenas partieron la noche. Los policías vinieron corriendo. Sterling, al darse cuenta de que acababa de ser utilizado, dejó escapar una risa baja e incrédula. "¿Así tratas a tu salvador?" Terminó tumbado exactamente donde ella había estado, su voz goteando sarcasmo. Claudia se puso de pie, medio en sombras, y le dedicó una sonrisa delgada. "Obviamente. Soy la villana desagradecida, ¿recuerdas?" … Esa noche, el chico de oro de Liberty City, el heredero de Romero Corporation, fue llevado a la comisaría. Clint apareció rápido con un abogado, echando miradas furtivas a la chica que despertó la rara misericordia del Segador… y luego lo denunció por acoso. ¿Valiente, verdad? Era hermosa, y claramente no le temía a nada. Una vez que los matones fueron registrados, Clint se preparó, esperando a que Sterling dijera la palabra: Encárgate de ella. En cambio, Sterling dijo: "Averigua quién es." "¿Quién?" La palabra se le escapó antes de que Clint pudiera detenerse. Sterling nunca mostraba interés en ninguna mujer. La sola idea daba miedo. La mirada de Sterling se clavó en él, lo suficientemente afilada para hacerlo callar. "Sí, señor", murmuró Clint rápidamente. Mirando a la chica alejarse a zancadas después de lanzar una última mirada ardiente por encima del hombro, Clint sintió una punzada de lástima. Eso era todo. Ella y toda su familia estaban acabadas. … Ajena a la tormenta que acababa de desatar, Claudia se arrastró a casa al amanecer, perseguida por una ráfaga de llamadas. Su padre, Wilson Lancaster, la recibió en la puerta con una bofetada sonora. "¿Cómo he criado a una hija como tú?" No esquivó a tiempo. Su mejilla pálida enrojeció e hinchó. La habitación se quedó helada. Jasper frunció el ceño, con dolor destellando en sus ojos. Se obligó a no intervenir. Claudia había cruzado la línea esta vez; si no aprendía, quién sabía qué caos provocaría después. Aun así… Wilson había golpeado demasiado fuerte. La visión le retorció algo en el pecho. Lottie, Clarence y Zane llevaban la misma expresión enfadada y decepcionada. En el sofá, los ojos de Lydia brillaban con una alegría mal disimulada. Había estado furiosa la noche anterior porque los cretinos que contrató habían metido la pata y terminado en la comisaría. Por suerte, había cubierto sus huellas. Habían afirmado que fue solo un agarre "en un momento de arrebato", y como no pasó nada grave, no había nada que la vinculara a ella. Había sido dada de alta esa mañana y soltó el cebo que tenía preparado desde hacía tiempo. Los Lancaster se lo tragaron entero. Después de desaparecer toda la noche, nadie preguntó dónde había estado Claudia, ni notó sus heridas. La recibieron con una bofetada. Esa era su familia. Claudia no discutió. Caminó directamente hacia la pequeña Lydia, presumida y satisfecha.
Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now.Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now. Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia Capítulo 1 ¡Bum! Las puertas de la sala del evento se abrieron de golpe. "¡Algo le ha pasado a Lydia!", gritó un hombre al entrar tambaleándose, con el pánico pintado en el rostro. Las palabras impactaron como una bomba. La sala —decorada con flores, lazos y música romántica, bullendo de emoción por la propuesta— quedó instantáneamente en silencio. El hombre en el centro de atención, aún de rodillas, con el anillo en la mano, se giró sobresaltado. "¿Qué acabas de decir?" Quade Zimmer, con su pelo teñido de azul tan estridente como su voz, soltó: "¡La señora Lancaster acaba de llamar! ¡Lydia ha tenido un accidente de coche! ¡Está en el hospital ahora mismo!" Apenas habían salido las palabras de su boca cuando estalló el caos: sillas arrastrándose, tacones repiqueteando, gente apresurándose hacia la puerta. No era una exageración decir que Lydia Wallace era la chica de moda de su círculo: hermosa, talentosa, frágil de esa forma desgarradora que hacía que la gente quisiera protegerla. Todos la adoraban, la compadecían, la veneraban. ¿Y ahora que su diosa estaba herida? A nadie le quedaba corazón para seguir celebrando una propuesta de matrimonio cuya respuesta todos ya conocían. Incluso el chico que proponía lo dejó todo y salió corriendo. "Jasper—" La voz que pronunció su nombre llegó por detrás —suave, apenas más que un suspiro. Fue entonces cuando todos finalmente se dieron cuenta: la mujer a la que le estaban pidiendo matrimonio no había dicho ni una palabra en todo este tiempo. Alguien debió de haber dado a los interruptores en el caos, porque la sala se oscureció. La única luz provenía de las suaves lámparas de la pared. En un rincón, mitad en sombras, mitad en luz, estaba Claudia Lancaster. Su belleza no era del tipo dulce y gentil —era marcada, impactante, inolvidable. Pero en ese momento, su calma resultaba inquietante. Su expresión no revelaba nada. "¿No quieres oír mi respuesta?", preguntó en voz baja. Hacía apenas un minuto, Jasper Fenton le había pedido que se casara con él. Ahora, a medio camino de la puerta, se detuvo en seco. Ni siquiera intentó explicarse. "Claudia, lo siento. Tengo que ir al hospital. Vete a casa primero, ¿vale?" "¿Y si no te dejo ir?" Su voz se mantuvo firme. "Jasper, sabes que la odio." Jasper suspiró, exasperado. "Claudia, ahora no. No es momento para empezar una pelea." "Mi respuesta… puede que solo la obtengas una vez", dijo, tan calmada como siempre. Algo en su tono le hizo hacer una pausa. Normalmente, en cuanto salía el nombre de Lydia, Claudia estallaba —espetando, poniendo los ojos en blanco, maldiciendo a Lydia entre dientes. Pero esta noche, estaba fría, distante. Casi como si lo hubiera estado esperando. Un destello de inquietud le recorrió la espalda a Jasper. "Oh, por favor", intervino Quade, poniendo los ojos en blanco. "Has estado obsesionada con Jasper desde, ¿qué, la secundaria? El tipo finalmente te propone matrimonio y ¿se supone que debemos creer que dirías que no?" "Sí, alguien podría estar muriéndose en serio. Te pueden proponer matrimonio cualquier otro día", añadió alguien más. "¡Exacto! Las familias arreglaron esto hace siglos, toda esta cosa es solo por apariencias." Los comentarios dolían, pero Claudia ni siquiera parpadeó. Sus ojos oscuros permanecieron clavados en Jasper. Esperando. Jasper dejó escapar otro suspiro y volvió hacia ella. Como siempre, le despeinó el cabello como si fuera una niña. "Pórtate bien, ¿vale? No montes una escena. Lydia podría estar gravemente herida. Este no es el momento para una rabieta." Siempre era así. Cada vez que Lydia estaba involucrada, Jasper nunca preguntaba quién tenía razón o no. Corría a consolar a Lydia primero, y luego volvía a regañar a Claudia, suave y paciente, como si fuera una niña mimada que simplemente no entendía. Así se sentía amar a alguien desde abajo. No importaba cuánto gritaras, tu ira era solo "graciosa". Nunca seria. ¿Esta propuesta? Nunca había sido una pregunta real. Jasper ya sabía cuál debería haber sido su respuesta. "¡Oh, al diablo con esto, no puedo quedarme callada más tiempo!" Whitney Sawyer golpeó su bolso de mano contra algo, con furia destellando en sus ojos. Había estado aguantándose desde que Quade irrumpió, pero ya era suficiente. "Jasper, ¿eres su novio o su ambulancia personal? ¿Cómo es que cada vez que Lydia sufre 'un accidente', te llama a ti? Siempre perfectamente sincronizado, siempre arruinando tus planes. ¡La última vez fue una cita, ahora es tu propuesta! ¿Qué, no podía esperar a morirse cinco minutos?" Como mejor amiga de Claudia, Whitney había pasado semanas planeando esta propuesta. Y ahora, una vez más, Lydia la había secuestrado, y Jasper había caído directamente en la trampa. La furia de Whitney se extendió como un incendio forestal. "¡Y el resto de ustedes! ¿Para qué corren, a visitarla o a planear su funeral? ¡A este paso, Lydia ya debería haber muerto cien veces!" "¡Whitney!" El rostro de Jasper se ensombreció; el hombre gentil y afable desapareció. Su voz sonó como un latigazo. "Mide tus palabras." "Oh, perdóname." La voz de Whitney subió de tono, aguda y furiosa. "¿No soportas oír criticar a tu preciosa Lydia? Jasper, ¿acaso recuerdas quién es tu novia?" Los ojos de Jasper se helaron. Claudia le agarró el brazo a Whitney, con voz tranquila pero firme. "Si sales por esa puerta, Jasper, terminamos." Ya se había perdido demasiado tiempo. Jasper se pellizcó el puente de la nariz y suspiró. "No digas algo de lo que te arrepentirás. Claudia, hablaremos cuando vuelva." Se dio la vuelta y salió con paso firme, sin mirar atrás. Ni siquiera sabía lo graves que eran las lesiones de Lydia, solo sabía que tenía que ir. Se dijo a sí mismo: Cuando vuelva, lo compensaré. Le haré una propuesta aún mejor. También tomó nota mental de decirle a Claudia que se alejara de Whitney; claramente esa chica le estaba llenando la cabeza de tonterías. La sala se hundió bajo el peso de todo. Incluso aquellos que pensaban que Claudia estaba siendo dramática se mordieron la lengua. Nadie quería contrariar a Jasper, ni a los Sawyer. Uno a uno, se escabulleron. En minutos, el lugar era irreconocible. Pétalos de rosa aplastados y lazos cubrían el suelo. Botellas de vino rodaban bajo las sillas. Glaseado embadurnaba la alfombra. Toda la escena parecía una parodia de lo que había sido, burlándose de lo ridículo que era todo. Mientras los últimos rezagados se quedaban, alguien frunció el ceño. "Esperen… Lydia es la hija adoptiva de los Lancaster, ¿verdad? Oí que es prima de Claudia. ¿Por qué nadie llamó a Claudia también?" "¿Llamarla? ¿Qué, quieren empeorar aún más las lesiones de Lydia?" "Vaya, ¿qué se supone que significa eso?" "Lo de siempre. Que la señorita Lancaster es fría, cruel, desagradecida… ya sabes cómo va." Los susurros comenzaron de nuevo, suaves, venenosos y familiares. Siempre lo hacían cuando el nombre de Lydia salía junto al de Claudia. El rostro de Whitney ardía de ira. Se volvió hacia Claudia, de repente preocupada. Los cotilleos de extraños no importaban, pero ¿la traición de alguien a quien amas? Eso siempre calaba más hondo. Claudia observó la espalda de Jasper mientras se alejaba, cada paso alejándolo más de ella. Era como ver los años escurriéndose entre sus dedos, el chico con el que había crecido desvaneciéndose a lo lejos. Whitney le había preguntado una vez: Si nada hubiera interrumpido esta noche, ¿habrías dicho que sí? Pero, honestamente: No importara cuál fuera su respuesta, el final habría sido el mismo. Lydia nunca la dejaría ganar. Y Jasper nunca la elegiría a ella. En el momento en que le dio la espalda, no se dio cuenta de que, aunque el futuro pueda parecer interminable, la mujer dispuesta a esperarte no dura para siempre. Jasper… esta vez, realmente te dejo ir. En la mesa, entre el desorden, el teléfono de Claudia vibró. Una notificación de WhatsApp apareció, breve y suficiente. "Perdiste." Capítulo 2 Tres días antes, Lydia había acorralado a Claudia. "Sabes que Jasper está a punto de proponerte matrimonio, ¿verdad?" Sus bonitos ojos brillaban, no de emoción, sino de celos y malicia. "Oí que ambas familias querían pasar directamente a la fiesta de compromiso, pero él insistió en hacerlo bien. Dijo que necesitaba oír tu 'sí' él mismo, o no significaría nada. Ayy, qué romántico, ¿no?" "¿Y qué?" Claudia levantó la vista, su tono plano, sin inmutarse. La sonrisa de Lydia se curvó, afilada y venenosa. "¿Y qué? Claudia, ¿qué hace que una pecadora como tú crea que merece felicidad?" Se inclinó más cerca, con voz azucarada pero goteando veneno. "¿Quieres apostar? En tres días, esa propuesta ni siquiera ocurrirá." Claudia solo la miró fijamente. Para todos los demás, Lydia era pura perfección: de voz suave, gentil, toda gracia y luz. Nadie creería que a puerta cerrada podía escupir veneno así. Podría haber detenido la propuesta en cualquier momento que quisiera. Pero no. A Lydia le gustaba el drama. Quería esperar hasta el acto final, para empujar a Claudia fuera del escenario ella misma. Como siempre hacía. … Después de que la propuesta se fuera al traste, el teléfono de Whitney sonó. Una mirada a la identificación de la llamada, y su rostro se demudó. Maldijo entre dientes y salió corriendo. Había planeado dejar a Claudia primero —Claudia había llegado en el coche de Jasper—, pero cuando Claudia se dio cuenta de que algo pasaba con la madre de Whitney, la instó a irse. Cuando todos los demás se habían ido, Claudia se quedó entre los escombros de flores aplastadas y copas de champán, con la cabeza agachada, su expresión ilegible. Dejó escapar una risita amarga. Era tarde. Las calles afuera estaban tranquilas y vacías. Claudia salió del club sin ganas de ir a casa. Vagó junto al río, el frío de la noche calándole la piel. Entonces, se detuvo en seco. Los vellos de su nuca se erizaron: alguien la seguía. Levantó su teléfono, fingiendo tomar una selfie, inclinándolo lo justo para ver el reflejo detrás de ella. Un grupo de hombres, sombras acercándose. Su pulso se disparó. Empezó a caminar más rápido. Ellos también. Su pulgar se cernió sobre su contacto de emergencia —el número que Jasper la había obligado a configurar hacía un año. En aquel entonces, le había roto el brazo a un acosador por molestar a una chica y había terminado en la comisaría. Jasper la sacó bajo fianza, regañándola durante todo el trayecto a casa por ser imprudente. Se había puesto a sí mismo como su contacto de emergencia, haciéndole prometer que si alguna vez estaba en peligro, lo llamaría a él, sin heroísmos, sin orgullo. Había jurado que sin importar dónde o cuándo, iría por ella. Nunca imaginó que la primera vez que llamaría sería así. "¿Claudia?" La voz de Jasper llegó, baja y cansada. Estaba en el hospital. El accidente de Lydia no había sido grave, pero ella era frágil —nacida prematura, se alteraba fácilmente. Solo él podía calmarla. Todo el clan Lancaster estaba acampado fuera. Lydia acababa de quedarse dormida cuando llegó la llamada, despertándola de un salto. "Jasper, alguien me está siguiendo." Silencio. Luego, su voz, fría, desdeñosa. "Claudia, realmente no puedo irme esta noche. No montes una escena." Pensó que estaba mintiendo, intentando alejarlo otra vez del lado de la cama de Lydia. Justo entonces, la madre de Lydia, Lottie Wallace, entró con un vaso de agua. Su rostro suave y elegante se endureció al ver el teléfono en la mano de Jasper. "¡Claudia!", espetó. "Lydia acaba de tener un accidente, y ni siquiera te molestas en visitar. ¿Ahora estás quién sabe dónde, inventando historias? ¿Cuándo vas a crecer? Escucha: nadie se va esta noche. Deja ya tus juegos mezquinos." Colgó sin dudar. En la cama, Lydia yacía pálida y temblorosa. Su voz era pequeña, vacilante. "Mamá, no te enfades. ¿Y si Claudia realmente está en problemas?" Lottie suspiró, la decepción grabada a fuego. "¿Qué problemas podría tener? Esta no es la primera vez que intenta algo cuando tú estás enferma." En la secundaria, Claudia una vez había llamado a casa en medio de la noche, diciendo que la habían secuestrado y exigiendo dinero de rescate. Esa misma noche, Lydia había caído enferma. La familia ya estaba en pánico, y la supuesta llamada de rescate casi le da un infarto a Lottie. Habían corrido a la ubicación, solo para encontrar a Claudia saliendo ilesa, sin un rasguño. Para cuando volvieron a casa, Lydia se había desplomado en el suelo, sola. Era demasiado tarde cuando finalmente la llevaron al hospital. El doctor dijo que con otro retraso, no habría sobrevivido. Esa noche, el padre de Claudia la había golpeado hasta dejarla sangrando. Pasó un mes en el hospital, y nunca se disculpó. La voz de Lottie se suavizó, cargada de decepción. "¿Cuándo se volvió así mi dulce niña?" Jasper conocía cada palabra de esa historia. Incluso había sido él quien llevaba snacks a escondidas a la cama de Claudia en el hospital después, contando chistes estúpidos para hacerla reír. Pero esta noche era diferente. Se dijo a sí mismo que solo estaba haciendo una rabieta por la propuesta arruinada. No tenía energía para sus pataletas. Mañana, cuando se calmara, hablaría con ella, la haría sonreír de nuevo. Colgó, apartó el cabello de la frente de Lydia y susurró: "Se te ha ido la fiebre. Pórtate bien. Duerme." Los ojos de Lydia brillaron con culpa y suavidad. "Jasper, lo siento por esta noche. Es toda mi culpa. Si no fuera tan débil—" "No. Nunca eres una carga." "Jasper…" "Duerme." Sus pestañas aletearon y se cerraron, y una pequeña sonrisa curvó sus labios. Dormiría tranquila esa noche. … Detrás de Claudia, los hombres se acercaban, lentos, perezosos, como gatos jugando con un ratón. Ella siguió corriendo, la voz de Jasper y el regaño de Lottie resonando en su mente. Tal vez había estado decepcionada demasiadas veces, porque ni siquiera se sentía triste ya, solo vacía. Hueca. La noche de abril era cálida, pero cortaba como cristal. La empujaron a un rincón oscuro. Claudia se detuvo bajo un árbol, su expresión calmada, los ojos bajándose al suelo. Entonces, se movió. Quince minutos después, los hombres yacían esparcidos por el pavimento —brazos retorcidos, piernas rotas, gimiendo de dolor. Claudia, sin aliento y sangrando, se dejó caer en el bordillo. Agarró su teléfono con una mano resbaladiza de sangre y marcó al 911. Después de ese lío en octavo grado, había empezado kickboxing y defensa personal. Había aprendido pronto: nadie vendría a salvarla. Uno de los hombres, con el brazo doblado en la dirección incorrecta, empezó a arrastrarse hacia ella. Los ojos de Claudia se posaron sobre él, fríos y afilados. Antes de que pudiera moverse, una bota cayó con fuerza, enviando al tipo volando. Una sombra se cernió sobre ella: un hombre alto con una sonrisa perezosa y el tipo de rostro que podría salirse con la suya cometiendo un asesinato. La miró desde arriba, haciendo un clic suave con la lengua. "Tss. ¿De dónde ha salido esta criaturita?" Capítulo 3 Sterling Romero salió de la Mansión Romero esa noche, lo suficientemente enfadado como para dejar su coche a medio camino a casa y sacar al perro a pasear. Lo que no esperaba era toparse con esa escena. Allí estaba ella, un capullo de rosa hermoso y malherido, acorralado por una jauría de callejeros desaliñados. Parecía frágil, pero la forma en que levantaba la barbilla, los ojos ardiendo de desafío, lo atrajo directamente de vuelta al cachorro de lobo huérfano con el que había vivido en las montañas casi un mes cuando tenía diez años. Todo fanfarronería y dientes al descubierto, guardando su pequeño trozo de tierra. Débil, pero ardiendo de vida. Ese lobo había muerto por sus manos al final. ¿Y esta chica? Era el mismo tipo de criatura: pequeña, espinosa y lista para hacer sangrar a quien intentara hacerle daño. Su rostro ni siquiera se inmutó mientras rompía los brazos de esos matones como si fueran ramitas. Nada la conmovía. Sterling, que rara vez se preocupaba por nada, sintió un destello de interés que no podía sacudirse. En contra de su mejor juicio, intervino. De cerca, era aún más difícil de olvidar. Esos ojos, oscuros, claros, brillantes como una noche después de la lluvia, se engancharon en algo enterrado profundamente dentro de él. Cuando ella levantó la vista, sobresaltada, había un destello de luz estelar que le hizo picar los dedos, con ganas de alargar la mano, de cubrir esos ojos afilados e intrépidos. Bien. Ya había intervenido. Mejor llevarlo hasta el final. Y, honestamente, necesitaba desahogarse. El callejón se llenó de gritos. Hacía un minuto, esos matones solo estaban demasiado heridos para arrastrarse. ¿Ahora? Estaban hechos pedazos: brazos inútiles, piernas rotas, el pánico espeso en el aire. Se arrepentían de todo. El trabajo había sido simple: golpearla un poco, nada grave. Su jefe incluso les había advertido que no dejaran marcas. Pero ella era demasiado hermosa, y unos cuantos se volvieron codiciosos. ¿Quién podría haber imaginado que la belleza delicada pegaba como un demonio, y lo que era peor, que un hombre como él aparecería de la nada? Frío, letal, como la Muerte misma con un abrigo de diseñador. Si el asesinato fuera legal, estaban seguros de que les habría roto el cuello sin pestañear. El cabecilla ya estaba perdiendo la cabeza. Sterling volvió paseando hasta donde la chica yacía observando desde el suelo. Su tono llevaba un rastro de diversión maliciosa. "Eres rápida, pero no lo suficiente despiadada. Si dejas cabos sueltos así, volverán para morderte. Entonces, pequeña callejera, ¿cómo piensas pagarme esta noche?" Claudia, que podría haber manejado la pelea bien por sí sola, y que ahora de alguna manera le debía algo a este extraño, guardó silencio. Tumbada de espaldas, el rostro surcado de sangre y polvo, de alguna manera parecía irreal en la oscuridad. Sterling frunció el ceño. Sucio. Se inclinó para levantar a la silenciosa rosa a sus pies, entonces algo lo empujó con fuerza. Tropezó, perdió el equilibrio y cayó justo encima de ella. Su peso aplastó su brazo herido; su mano izquierda aterrizó sobre algo más suave. Sus dedos se tensaron y apretaron antes de que su cerebro reaccionara. Se quedó helado. Ella también. Sus ojos se encontraron, muy abiertos en mutua conmoción. A unos metros de distancia, el perro pastor culpable se sentó parpadeando, como diciendo: Por favor, no me vean. Inmovilizada bajo un extraño, con todo dolorido, Claudia respiró hondo y tembloroso. Guapo o no, un grupo seguía siendo un grupo. Su expresión calmada se volvió feroz. Sterling oyó las primeras palabras de la rosa para él esa noche. "¿Nadie te dijo nunca?" "¿Decirme qué?" "Que no metas la nariz en los asuntos de otros." Antes de que la última palabra se desvaneciera, le rodeó el cuello con los brazos y lo tiró hacia abajo. Sus frentes chocaron con un crujido. El dolor se disparó. "¡Agente! ¡Por aquí!" Su voz sonó clara. Segundos después, las sirenas partieron la noche. Los policías vinieron corriendo. Sterling, al darse cuenta de que acababa de ser utilizado, dejó escapar una risa baja e incrédula. "¿Así tratas a tu salvador?" Terminó tumbado exactamente donde ella había estado, su voz goteando sarcasmo. Claudia se puso de pie, medio en sombras, y le dedicó una sonrisa delgada. "Obviamente. Soy la villana desagradecida, ¿recuerdas?" … Esa noche, el chico de oro de Liberty City, el heredero de Romero Corporation, fue llevado a la comisaría. Clint apareció rápido con un abogado, echando miradas furtivas a la chica que despertó la rara misericordia del Segador… y luego lo denunció por acoso. ¿Valiente, verdad? Era hermosa, y claramente no le temía a nada. Una vez que los matones fueron registrados, Clint se preparó, esperando a que Sterling dijera la palabra: Encárgate de ella. En cambio, Sterling dijo: "Averigua quién es." "¿Quién?" La palabra se le escapó antes de que Clint pudiera detenerse. Sterling nunca mostraba interés en ninguna mujer. La sola idea daba miedo. La mirada de Sterling se clavó en él, lo suficientemente afilada para hacerlo callar. "Sí, señor", murmuró Clint rápidamente. Mirando a la chica alejarse a zancadas después de lanzar una última mirada ardiente por encima del hombro, Clint sintió una punzada de lástima. Eso era todo. Ella y toda su familia estaban acabadas. … Ajena a la tormenta que acababa de desatar, Claudia se arrastró a casa al amanecer, perseguida por una ráfaga de llamadas. Su padre, Wilson Lancaster, la recibió en la puerta con una bofetada sonora. "¿Cómo he criado a una hija como tú?" No esquivó a tiempo. Su mejilla pálida enrojeció e hinchó. La habitación se quedó helada. Jasper frunció el ceño, con dolor destellando en sus ojos. Se obligó a no intervenir. Claudia había cruzado la línea esta vez; si no aprendía, quién sabía qué caos provocaría después. Aun así… Wilson había golpeado demasiado fuerte. La visión le retorció algo en el pecho. Lottie, Clarence y Zane llevaban la misma expresión enfadada y decepcionada. En el sofá, los ojos de Lydia brillaban con una alegría mal disimulada. Había estado furiosa la noche anterior porque los cretinos que contrató habían metido la pata y terminado en la comisaría. Por suerte, había cubierto sus huellas. Habían afirmado que fue solo un agarre "en un momento de arrebato", y como no pasó nada grave, no había nada que la vinculara a ella. Había sido dada de alta esa mañana y soltó el cebo que tenía preparado desde hacía tiempo. Los Lancaster se lo tragaron entero. Después de desaparecer toda la noche, nadie preguntó dónde había estado Claudia, ni notó sus heridas. La recibieron con una bofetada. Esa era su familia. Claudia no discutió. Caminó directamente hacia la pequeña Lydia, presumida y satisfecha.
Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now.Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now. Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia Capítulo 1 ¡Bum! Las puertas de la sala del evento se abrieron de golpe. "¡Algo le ha pasado a Lydia!", gritó un hombre al entrar tambaleándose, con el pánico pintado en el rostro. Las palabras impactaron como una bomba. La sala —decorada con flores, lazos y música romántica, bullendo de emoción por la propuesta— quedó instantáneamente en silencio. El hombre en el centro de atención, aún de rodillas, con el anillo en la mano, se giró sobresaltado. "¿Qué acabas de decir?" Quade Zimmer, con su pelo teñido de azul tan estridente como su voz, soltó: "¡La señora Lancaster acaba de llamar! ¡Lydia ha tenido un accidente de coche! ¡Está en el hospital ahora mismo!" Apenas habían salido las palabras de su boca cuando estalló el caos: sillas arrastrándose, tacones repiqueteando, gente apresurándose hacia la puerta. No era una exageración decir que Lydia Wallace era la chica de moda de su círculo: hermosa, talentosa, frágil de esa forma desgarradora que hacía que la gente quisiera protegerla. Todos la adoraban, la compadecían, la veneraban. ¿Y ahora que su diosa estaba herida? A nadie le quedaba corazón para seguir celebrando una propuesta de matrimonio cuya respuesta todos ya conocían. Incluso el chico que proponía lo dejó todo y salió corriendo. "Jasper—" La voz que pronunció su nombre llegó por detrás —suave, apenas más que un suspiro. Fue entonces cuando todos finalmente se dieron cuenta: la mujer a la que le estaban pidiendo matrimonio no había dicho ni una palabra en todo este tiempo. Alguien debió de haber dado a los interruptores en el caos, porque la sala se oscureció. La única luz provenía de las suaves lámparas de la pared. En un rincón, mitad en sombras, mitad en luz, estaba Claudia Lancaster. Su belleza no era del tipo dulce y gentil —era marcada, impactante, inolvidable. Pero en ese momento, su calma resultaba inquietante. Su expresión no revelaba nada. "¿No quieres oír mi respuesta?", preguntó en voz baja. Hacía apenas un minuto, Jasper Fenton le había pedido que se casara con él. Ahora, a medio camino de la puerta, se detuvo en seco. Ni siquiera intentó explicarse. "Claudia, lo siento. Tengo que ir al hospital. Vete a casa primero, ¿vale?" "¿Y si no te dejo ir?" Su voz se mantuvo firme. "Jasper, sabes que la odio." Jasper suspiró, exasperado. "Claudia, ahora no. No es momento para empezar una pelea." "Mi respuesta… puede que solo la obtengas una vez", dijo, tan calmada como siempre. Algo en su tono le hizo hacer una pausa. Normalmente, en cuanto salía el nombre de Lydia, Claudia estallaba —espetando, poniendo los ojos en blanco, maldiciendo a Lydia entre dientes. Pero esta noche, estaba fría, distante. Casi como si lo hubiera estado esperando. Un destello de inquietud le recorrió la espalda a Jasper. "Oh, por favor", intervino Quade, poniendo los ojos en blanco. "Has estado obsesionada con Jasper desde, ¿qué, la secundaria? El tipo finalmente te propone matrimonio y ¿se supone que debemos creer que dirías que no?" "Sí, alguien podría estar muriéndose en serio. Te pueden proponer matrimonio cualquier otro día", añadió alguien más. "¡Exacto! Las familias arreglaron esto hace siglos, toda esta cosa es solo por apariencias." Los comentarios dolían, pero Claudia ni siquiera parpadeó. Sus ojos oscuros permanecieron clavados en Jasper. Esperando. Jasper dejó escapar otro suspiro y volvió hacia ella. Como siempre, le despeinó el cabello como si fuera una niña. "Pórtate bien, ¿vale? No montes una escena. Lydia podría estar gravemente herida. Este no es el momento para una rabieta." Siempre era así. Cada vez que Lydia estaba involucrada, Jasper nunca preguntaba quién tenía razón o no. Corría a consolar a Lydia primero, y luego volvía a regañar a Claudia, suave y paciente, como si fuera una niña mimada que simplemente no entendía. Así se sentía amar a alguien desde abajo. No importaba cuánto gritaras, tu ira era solo "graciosa". Nunca seria. ¿Esta propuesta? Nunca había sido una pregunta real. Jasper ya sabía cuál debería haber sido su respuesta. "¡Oh, al diablo con esto, no puedo quedarme callada más tiempo!" Whitney Sawyer golpeó su bolso de mano contra algo, con furia destellando en sus ojos. Había estado aguantándose desde que Quade irrumpió, pero ya era suficiente. "Jasper, ¿eres su novio o su ambulancia personal? ¿Cómo es que cada vez que Lydia sufre 'un accidente', te llama a ti? Siempre perfectamente sincronizado, siempre arruinando tus planes. ¡La última vez fue una cita, ahora es tu propuesta! ¿Qué, no podía esperar a morirse cinco minutos?" Como mejor amiga de Claudia, Whitney había pasado semanas planeando esta propuesta. Y ahora, una vez más, Lydia la había secuestrado, y Jasper había caído directamente en la trampa. La furia de Whitney se extendió como un incendio forestal. "¡Y el resto de ustedes! ¿Para qué corren, a visitarla o a planear su funeral? ¡A este paso, Lydia ya debería haber muerto cien veces!" "¡Whitney!" El rostro de Jasper se ensombreció; el hombre gentil y afable desapareció. Su voz sonó como un latigazo. "Mide tus palabras." "Oh, perdóname." La voz de Whitney subió de tono, aguda y furiosa. "¿No soportas oír criticar a tu preciosa Lydia? Jasper, ¿acaso recuerdas quién es tu novia?" Los ojos de Jasper se helaron. Claudia le agarró el brazo a Whitney, con voz tranquila pero firme. "Si sales por esa puerta, Jasper, terminamos." Ya se había perdido demasiado tiempo. Jasper se pellizcó el puente de la nariz y suspiró. "No digas algo de lo que te arrepentirás. Claudia, hablaremos cuando vuelva." Se dio la vuelta y salió con paso firme, sin mirar atrás. Ni siquiera sabía lo graves que eran las lesiones de Lydia, solo sabía que tenía que ir. Se dijo a sí mismo: Cuando vuelva, lo compensaré. Le haré una propuesta aún mejor. También tomó nota mental de decirle a Claudia que se alejara de Whitney; claramente esa chica le estaba llenando la cabeza de tonterías. La sala se hundió bajo el peso de todo. Incluso aquellos que pensaban que Claudia estaba siendo dramática se mordieron la lengua. Nadie quería contrariar a Jasper, ni a los Sawyer. Uno a uno, se escabulleron. En minutos, el lugar era irreconocible. Pétalos de rosa aplastados y lazos cubrían el suelo. Botellas de vino rodaban bajo las sillas. Glaseado embadurnaba la alfombra. Toda la escena parecía una parodia de lo que había sido, burlándose de lo ridículo que era todo. Mientras los últimos rezagados se quedaban, alguien frunció el ceño. "Esperen… Lydia es la hija adoptiva de los Lancaster, ¿verdad? Oí que es prima de Claudia. ¿Por qué nadie llamó a Claudia también?" "¿Llamarla? ¿Qué, quieren empeorar aún más las lesiones de Lydia?" "Vaya, ¿qué se supone que significa eso?" "Lo de siempre. Que la señorita Lancaster es fría, cruel, desagradecida… ya sabes cómo va." Los susurros comenzaron de nuevo, suaves, venenosos y familiares. Siempre lo hacían cuando el nombre de Lydia salía junto al de Claudia. El rostro de Whitney ardía de ira. Se volvió hacia Claudia, de repente preocupada. Los cotilleos de extraños no importaban, pero ¿la traición de alguien a quien amas? Eso siempre calaba más hondo. Claudia observó la espalda de Jasper mientras se alejaba, cada paso alejándolo más de ella. Era como ver los años escurriéndose entre sus dedos, el chico con el que había crecido desvaneciéndose a lo lejos. Whitney le había preguntado una vez: Si nada hubiera interrumpido esta noche, ¿habrías dicho que sí? Pero, honestamente: No importara cuál fuera su respuesta, el final habría sido el mismo. Lydia nunca la dejaría ganar. Y Jasper nunca la elegiría a ella. En el momento en que le dio la espalda, no se dio cuenta de que, aunque el futuro pueda parecer interminable, la mujer dispuesta a esperarte no dura para siempre. Jasper… esta vez, realmente te dejo ir. En la mesa, entre el desorden, el teléfono de Claudia vibró. Una notificación de WhatsApp apareció, breve y suficiente. "Perdiste." Capítulo 2 Tres días antes, Lydia había acorralado a Claudia. "Sabes que Jasper está a punto de proponerte matrimonio, ¿verdad?" Sus bonitos ojos brillaban, no de emoción, sino de celos y malicia. "Oí que ambas familias querían pasar directamente a la fiesta de compromiso, pero él insistió en hacerlo bien. Dijo que necesitaba oír tu 'sí' él mismo, o no significaría nada. Ayy, qué romántico, ¿no?" "¿Y qué?" Claudia levantó la vista, su tono plano, sin inmutarse. La sonrisa de Lydia se curvó, afilada y venenosa. "¿Y qué? Claudia, ¿qué hace que una pecadora como tú crea que merece felicidad?" Se inclinó más cerca, con voz azucarada pero goteando veneno. "¿Quieres apostar? En tres días, esa propuesta ni siquiera ocurrirá." Claudia solo la miró fijamente. Para todos los demás, Lydia era pura perfección: de voz suave, gentil, toda gracia y luz. Nadie creería que a puerta cerrada podía escupir veneno así. Podría haber detenido la propuesta en cualquier momento que quisiera. Pero no. A Lydia le gustaba el drama. Quería esperar hasta el acto final, para empujar a Claudia fuera del escenario ella misma. Como siempre hacía. … Después de que la propuesta se fuera al traste, el teléfono de Whitney sonó. Una mirada a la identificación de la llamada, y su rostro se demudó. Maldijo entre dientes y salió corriendo. Había planeado dejar a Claudia primero —Claudia había llegado en el coche de Jasper—, pero cuando Claudia se dio cuenta de que algo pasaba con la madre de Whitney, la instó a irse. Cuando todos los demás se habían ido, Claudia se quedó entre los escombros de flores aplastadas y copas de champán, con la cabeza agachada, su expresión ilegible. Dejó escapar una risita amarga. Era tarde. Las calles afuera estaban tranquilas y vacías. Claudia salió del club sin ganas de ir a casa. Vagó junto al río, el frío de la noche calándole la piel. Entonces, se detuvo en seco. Los vellos de su nuca se erizaron: alguien la seguía. Levantó su teléfono, fingiendo tomar una selfie, inclinándolo lo justo para ver el reflejo detrás de ella. Un grupo de hombres, sombras acercándose. Su pulso se disparó. Empezó a caminar más rápido. Ellos también. Su pulgar se cernió sobre su contacto de emergencia —el número que Jasper la había obligado a configurar hacía un año. En aquel entonces, le había roto el brazo a un acosador por molestar a una chica y había terminado en la comisaría. Jasper la sacó bajo fianza, regañándola durante todo el trayecto a casa por ser imprudente. Se había puesto a sí mismo como su contacto de emergencia, haciéndole prometer que si alguna vez estaba en peligro, lo llamaría a él, sin heroísmos, sin orgullo. Había jurado que sin importar dónde o cuándo, iría por ella. Nunca imaginó que la primera vez que llamaría sería así. "¿Claudia?" La voz de Jasper llegó, baja y cansada. Estaba en el hospital. El accidente de Lydia no había sido grave, pero ella era frágil —nacida prematura, se alteraba fácilmente. Solo él podía calmarla. Todo el clan Lancaster estaba acampado fuera. Lydia acababa de quedarse dormida cuando llegó la llamada, despertándola de un salto. "Jasper, alguien me está siguiendo." Silencio. Luego, su voz, fría, desdeñosa. "Claudia, realmente no puedo irme esta noche. No montes una escena." Pensó que estaba mintiendo, intentando alejarlo otra vez del lado de la cama de Lydia. Justo entonces, la madre de Lydia, Lottie Wallace, entró con un vaso de agua. Su rostro suave y elegante se endureció al ver el teléfono en la mano de Jasper. "¡Claudia!", espetó. "Lydia acaba de tener un accidente, y ni siquiera te molestas en visitar. ¿Ahora estás quién sabe dónde, inventando historias? ¿Cuándo vas a crecer? Escucha: nadie se va esta noche. Deja ya tus juegos mezquinos." Colgó sin dudar. En la cama, Lydia yacía pálida y temblorosa. Su voz era pequeña, vacilante. "Mamá, no te enfades. ¿Y si Claudia realmente está en problemas?" Lottie suspiró, la decepción grabada a fuego. "¿Qué problemas podría tener? Esta no es la primera vez que intenta algo cuando tú estás enferma." En la secundaria, Claudia una vez había llamado a casa en medio de la noche, diciendo que la habían secuestrado y exigiendo dinero de rescate. Esa misma noche, Lydia había caído enferma. La familia ya estaba en pánico, y la supuesta llamada de rescate casi le da un infarto a Lottie. Habían corrido a la ubicación, solo para encontrar a Claudia saliendo ilesa, sin un rasguño. Para cuando volvieron a casa, Lydia se había desplomado en el suelo, sola. Era demasiado tarde cuando finalmente la llevaron al hospital. El doctor dijo que con otro retraso, no habría sobrevivido. Esa noche, el padre de Claudia la había golpeado hasta dejarla sangrando. Pasó un mes en el hospital, y nunca se disculpó. La voz de Lottie se suavizó, cargada de decepción. "¿Cuándo se volvió así mi dulce niña?" Jasper conocía cada palabra de esa historia. Incluso había sido él quien llevaba snacks a escondidas a la cama de Claudia en el hospital después, contando chistes estúpidos para hacerla reír. Pero esta noche era diferente. Se dijo a sí mismo que solo estaba haciendo una rabieta por la propuesta arruinada. No tenía energía para sus pataletas. Mañana, cuando se calmara, hablaría con ella, la haría sonreír de nuevo. Colgó, apartó el cabello de la frente de Lydia y susurró: "Se te ha ido la fiebre. Pórtate bien. Duerme." Los ojos de Lydia brillaron con culpa y suavidad. "Jasper, lo siento por esta noche. Es toda mi culpa. Si no fuera tan débil—" "No. Nunca eres una carga." "Jasper…" "Duerme." Sus pestañas aletearon y se cerraron, y una pequeña sonrisa curvó sus labios. Dormiría tranquila esa noche. … Detrás de Claudia, los hombres se acercaban, lentos, perezosos, como gatos jugando con un ratón. Ella siguió corriendo, la voz de Jasper y el regaño de Lottie resonando en su mente. Tal vez había estado decepcionada demasiadas veces, porque ni siquiera se sentía triste ya, solo vacía. Hueca. La noche de abril era cálida, pero cortaba como cristal. La empujaron a un rincón oscuro. Claudia se detuvo bajo un árbol, su expresión calmada, los ojos bajándose al suelo. Entonces, se movió. Quince minutos después, los hombres yacían esparcidos por el pavimento —brazos retorcidos, piernas rotas, gimiendo de dolor. Claudia, sin aliento y sangrando, se dejó caer en el bordillo. Agarró su teléfono con una mano resbaladiza de sangre y marcó al 911. Después de ese lío en octavo grado, había empezado kickboxing y defensa personal. Había aprendido pronto: nadie vendría a salvarla. Uno de los hombres, con el brazo doblado en la dirección incorrecta, empezó a arrastrarse hacia ella. Los ojos de Claudia se posaron sobre él, fríos y afilados. Antes de que pudiera moverse, una bota cayó con fuerza, enviando al tipo volando. Una sombra se cernió sobre ella: un hombre alto con una sonrisa perezosa y el tipo de rostro que podría salirse con la suya cometiendo un asesinato. La miró desde arriba, haciendo un clic suave con la lengua. "Tss. ¿De dónde ha salido esta criaturita?" Capítulo 3 Sterling Romero salió de la Mansión Romero esa noche, lo suficientemente enfadado como para dejar su coche a medio camino a casa y sacar al perro a pasear. Lo que no esperaba era toparse con esa escena. Allí estaba ella, un capullo de rosa hermoso y malherido, acorralado por una jauría de callejeros desaliñados. Parecía frágil, pero la forma en que levantaba la barbilla, los ojos ardiendo de desafío, lo atrajo directamente de vuelta al cachorro de lobo huérfano con el que había vivido en las montañas casi un mes cuando tenía diez años. Todo fanfarronería y dientes al descubierto, guardando su pequeño trozo de tierra. Débil, pero ardiendo de vida. Ese lobo había muerto por sus manos al final. ¿Y esta chica? Era el mismo tipo de criatura: pequeña, espinosa y lista para hacer sangrar a quien intentara hacerle daño. Su rostro ni siquiera se inmutó mientras rompía los brazos de esos matones como si fueran ramitas. Nada la conmovía. Sterling, que rara vez se preocupaba por nada, sintió un destello de interés que no podía sacudirse. En contra de su mejor juicio, intervino. De cerca, era aún más difícil de olvidar. Esos ojos, oscuros, claros, brillantes como una noche después de la lluvia, se engancharon en algo enterrado profundamente dentro de él. Cuando ella levantó la vista, sobresaltada, había un destello de luz estelar que le hizo picar los dedos, con ganas de alargar la mano, de cubrir esos ojos afilados e intrépidos. Bien. Ya había intervenido. Mejor llevarlo hasta el final. Y, honestamente, necesitaba desahogarse. El callejón se llenó de gritos. Hacía un minuto, esos matones solo estaban demasiado heridos para arrastrarse. ¿Ahora? Estaban hechos pedazos: brazos inútiles, piernas rotas, el pánico espeso en el aire. Se arrepentían de todo. El trabajo había sido simple: golpearla un poco, nada grave. Su jefe incluso les había advertido que no dejaran marcas. Pero ella era demasiado hermosa, y unos cuantos se volvieron codiciosos. ¿Quién podría haber imaginado que la belleza delicada pegaba como un demonio, y lo que era peor, que un hombre como él aparecería de la nada? Frío, letal, como la Muerte misma con un abrigo de diseñador. Si el asesinato fuera legal, estaban seguros de que les habría roto el cuello sin pestañear. El cabecilla ya estaba perdiendo la cabeza. Sterling volvió paseando hasta donde la chica yacía observando desde el suelo. Su tono llevaba un rastro de diversión maliciosa. "Eres rápida, pero no lo suficiente despiadada. Si dejas cabos sueltos así, volverán para morderte. Entonces, pequeña callejera, ¿cómo piensas pagarme esta noche?" Claudia, que podría haber manejado la pelea bien por sí sola, y que ahora de alguna manera le debía algo a este extraño, guardó silencio. Tumbada de espaldas, el rostro surcado de sangre y polvo, de alguna manera parecía irreal en la oscuridad. Sterling frunció el ceño. Sucio. Se inclinó para levantar a la silenciosa rosa a sus pies, entonces algo lo empujó con fuerza. Tropezó, perdió el equilibrio y cayó justo encima de ella. Su peso aplastó su brazo herido; su mano izquierda aterrizó sobre algo más suave. Sus dedos se tensaron y apretaron antes de que su cerebro reaccionara. Se quedó helado. Ella también. Sus ojos se encontraron, muy abiertos en mutua conmoción. A unos metros de distancia, el perro pastor culpable se sentó parpadeando, como diciendo: Por favor, no me vean. Inmovilizada bajo un extraño, con todo dolorido, Claudia respiró hondo y tembloroso. Guapo o no, un grupo seguía siendo un grupo. Su expresión calmada se volvió feroz. Sterling oyó las primeras palabras de la rosa para él esa noche. "¿Nadie te dijo nunca?" "¿Decirme qué?" "Que no metas la nariz en los asuntos de otros." Antes de que la última palabra se desvaneciera, le rodeó el cuello con los brazos y lo tiró hacia abajo. Sus frentes chocaron con un crujido. El dolor se disparó. "¡Agente! ¡Por aquí!" Su voz sonó clara. Segundos después, las sirenas partieron la noche. Los policías vinieron corriendo. Sterling, al darse cuenta de que acababa de ser utilizado, dejó escapar una risa baja e incrédula. "¿Así tratas a tu salvador?" Terminó tumbado exactamente donde ella había estado, su voz goteando sarcasmo. Claudia se puso de pie, medio en sombras, y le dedicó una sonrisa delgada. "Obviamente. Soy la villana desagradecida, ¿recuerdas?" … Esa noche, el chico de oro de Liberty City, el heredero de Romero Corporation, fue llevado a la comisaría. Clint apareció rápido con un abogado, echando miradas furtivas a la chica que despertó la rara misericordia del Segador… y luego lo denunció por acoso. ¿Valiente, verdad? Era hermosa, y claramente no le temía a nada. Una vez que los matones fueron registrados, Clint se preparó, esperando a que Sterling dijera la palabra: Encárgate de ella. En cambio, Sterling dijo: "Averigua quién es." "¿Quién?" La palabra se le escapó antes de que Clint pudiera detenerse. Sterling nunca mostraba interés en ninguna mujer. La sola idea daba miedo. La mirada de Sterling se clavó en él, lo suficientemente afilada para hacerlo callar. "Sí, señor", murmuró Clint rápidamente. Mirando a la chica alejarse a zancadas después de lanzar una última mirada ardiente por encima del hombro, Clint sintió una punzada de lástima. Eso era todo. Ella y toda su familia estaban acabadas. … Ajena a la tormenta que acababa de desatar, Claudia se arrastró a casa al amanecer, perseguida por una ráfaga de llamadas. Su padre, Wilson Lancaster, la recibió en la puerta con una bofetada sonora. "¿Cómo he criado a una hija como tú?" No esquivó a tiempo. Su mejilla pálida enrojeció e hinchó. La habitación se quedó helada. Jasper frunció el ceño, con dolor destellando en sus ojos. Se obligó a no intervenir. Claudia había cruzado la línea esta vez; si no aprendía, quién sabía qué caos provocaría después. Aun así… Wilson había golpeado demasiado fuerte. La visión le retorció algo en el pecho. Lottie, Clarence y Zane llevaban la misma expresión enfadada y decepcionada. En el sofá, los ojos de Lydia brillaban con una alegría mal disimulada. Había estado furiosa la noche anterior porque los cretinos que contrató habían metido la pata y terminado en la comisaría. Por suerte, había cubierto sus huellas. Habían afirmado que fue solo un agarre "en un momento de arrebato", y como no pasó nada grave, no había nada que la vinculara a ella. Había sido dada de alta esa mañana y soltó el cebo que tenía preparado desde hacía tiempo. Los Lancaster se lo tragaron entero. Después de desaparecer toda la noche, nadie preguntó dónde había estado Claudia, ni notó sus heridas. La recibieron con una bofetada. Esa era su familia. Claudia no discutió. Caminó directamente hacia la pequeña Lydia, presumida y satisfecha.
Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now.Single and ready to mingle? The hottest singles in your area are online now. Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia Capítulo 1 ¡Bum! Las puertas de la sala del evento se abrieron de golpe. "¡Algo le ha pasado a Lydia!", gritó un hombre al entrar tambaleándose, con el pánico pintado en el rostro. Las palabras impactaron como una bomba. La sala —decorada con flores, lazos y música romántica, bullendo de emoción por la propuesta— quedó instantáneamente en silencio. El hombre en el centro de atención, aún de rodillas, con el anillo en la mano, se giró sobresaltado. "¿Qué acabas de decir?" Quade Zimmer, con su pelo teñido de azul tan estridente como su voz, soltó: "¡La señora Lancaster acaba de llamar! ¡Lydia ha tenido un accidente de coche! ¡Está en el hospital ahora mismo!" Apenas habían salido las palabras de su boca cuando estalló el caos: sillas arrastrándose, tacones repiqueteando, gente apresurándose hacia la puerta. No era una exageración decir que Lydia Wallace era la chica de moda de su círculo: hermosa, talentosa, frágil de esa forma desgarradora que hacía que la gente quisiera protegerla. Todos la adoraban, la compadecían, la veneraban. ¿Y ahora que su diosa estaba herida? A nadie le quedaba corazón para seguir celebrando una propuesta de matrimonio cuya respuesta todos ya conocían. Incluso el chico que proponía lo dejó todo y salió corriendo. "Jasper—" La voz que pronunció su nombre llegó por detrás —suave, apenas más que un suspiro. Fue entonces cuando todos finalmente se dieron cuenta: la mujer a la que le estaban pidiendo matrimonio no había dicho ni una palabra en todo este tiempo. Alguien debió de haber dado a los interruptores en el caos, porque la sala se oscureció. La única luz provenía de las suaves lámparas de la pared. En un rincón, mitad en sombras, mitad en luz, estaba Claudia Lancaster. Su belleza no era del tipo dulce y gentil —era marcada, impactante, inolvidable. Pero en ese momento, su calma resultaba inquietante. Su expresión no revelaba nada. "¿No quieres oír mi respuesta?", preguntó en voz baja. Hacía apenas un minuto, Jasper Fenton le había pedido que se casara con él. Ahora, a medio camino de la puerta, se detuvo en seco. Ni siquiera intentó explicarse. "Claudia, lo siento. Tengo que ir al hospital. Vete a casa primero, ¿vale?" "¿Y si no te dejo ir?" Su voz se mantuvo firme. "Jasper, sabes que la odio." Jasper suspiró, exasperado. "Claudia, ahora no. No es momento para empezar una pelea." "Mi respuesta… puede que solo la obtengas una vez", dijo, tan calmada como siempre. Algo en su tono le hizo hacer una pausa. Normalmente, en cuanto salía el nombre de Lydia, Claudia estallaba —espetando, poniendo los ojos en blanco, maldiciendo a Lydia entre dientes. Pero esta noche, estaba fría, distante. Casi como si lo hubiera estado esperando. Un destello de inquietud le recorrió la espalda a Jasper. "Oh, por favor", intervino Quade, poniendo los ojos en blanco. "Has estado obsesionada con Jasper desde, ¿qué, la secundaria? El tipo finalmente te propone matrimonio y ¿se supone que debemos creer que dirías que no?" "Sí, alguien podría estar muriéndose en serio. Te pueden proponer matrimonio cualquier otro día", añadió alguien más. "¡Exacto! Las familias arreglaron esto hace siglos, toda esta cosa es solo por apariencias." Los comentarios dolían, pero Claudia ni siquiera parpadeó. Sus ojos oscuros permanecieron clavados en Jasper. Esperando. Jasper dejó escapar otro suspiro y volvió hacia ella. Como siempre, le despeinó el cabello como si fuera una niña. "Pórtate bien, ¿vale? No montes una escena. Lydia podría estar gravemente herida. Este no es el momento para una rabieta." Siempre era así. Cada vez que Lydia estaba involucrada, Jasper nunca preguntaba quién tenía razón o no. Corría a consolar a Lydia primero, y luego volvía a regañar a Claudia, suave y paciente, como si fuera una niña mimada que simplemente no entendía. Así se sentía amar a alguien desde abajo. No importaba cuánto gritaras, tu ira era solo "graciosa". Nunca seria. ¿Esta propuesta? Nunca había sido una pregunta real. Jasper ya sabía cuál debería haber sido su respuesta. "¡Oh, al diablo con esto, no puedo quedarme callada más tiempo!" Whitney Sawyer golpeó su bolso de mano contra algo, con furia destellando en sus ojos. Había estado aguantándose desde que Quade irrumpió, pero ya era suficiente. "Jasper, ¿eres su novio o su ambulancia personal? ¿Cómo es que cada vez que Lydia sufre 'un accidente', te llama a ti? Siempre perfectamente sincronizado, siempre arruinando tus planes. ¡La última vez fue una cita, ahora es tu propuesta! ¿Qué, no podía esperar a morirse cinco minutos?" Como mejor amiga de Claudia, Whitney había pasado semanas planeando esta propuesta. Y ahora, una vez más, Lydia la había secuestrado, y Jasper había caído directamente en la trampa. La furia de Whitney se extendió como un incendio forestal. "¡Y el resto de ustedes! ¿Para qué corren, a visitarla o a planear su funeral? ¡A este paso, Lydia ya debería haber muerto cien veces!" "¡Whitney!" El rostro de Jasper se ensombreció; el hombre gentil y afable desapareció. Su voz sonó como un latigazo. "Mide tus palabras." "Oh, perdóname." La voz de Whitney subió de tono, aguda y furiosa. "¿No soportas oír criticar a tu preciosa Lydia? Jasper, ¿acaso recuerdas quién es tu novia?" Los ojos de Jasper se helaron. Claudia le agarró el brazo a Whitney, con voz tranquila pero firme. "Si sales por esa puerta, Jasper, terminamos." Ya se había perdido demasiado tiempo. Jasper se pellizcó el puente de la nariz y suspiró. "No digas algo de lo que te arrepentirás. Claudia, hablaremos cuando vuelva." Se dio la vuelta y salió con paso firme, sin mirar atrás. Ni siquiera sabía lo graves que eran las lesiones de Lydia, solo sabía que tenía que ir. Se dijo a sí mismo: Cuando vuelva, lo compensaré. Le haré una propuesta aún mejor. También tomó nota mental de decirle a Claudia que se alejara de Whitney; claramente esa chica le estaba llenando la cabeza de tonterías. La sala se hundió bajo el peso de todo. Incluso aquellos que pensaban que Claudia estaba siendo dramática se mordieron la lengua. Nadie quería contrariar a Jasper, ni a los Sawyer. Uno a uno, se escabulleron. En minutos, el lugar era irreconocible. Pétalos de rosa aplastados y lazos cubrían el suelo. Botellas de vino rodaban bajo las sillas. Glaseado embadurnaba la alfombra. Toda la escena parecía una parodia de lo que había sido, burlándose de lo ridículo que era todo. Mientras los últimos rezagados se quedaban, alguien frunció el ceño. "Esperen… Lydia es la hija adoptiva de los Lancaster, ¿verdad? Oí que es prima de Claudia. ¿Por qué nadie llamó a Claudia también?" "¿Llamarla? ¿Qué, quieren empeorar aún más las lesiones de Lydia?" "Vaya, ¿qué se supone que significa eso?" "Lo de siempre. Que la señorita Lancaster es fría, cruel, desagradecida… ya sabes cómo va." Los susurros comenzaron de nuevo, suaves, venenosos y familiares. Siempre lo hacían cuando el nombre de Lydia salía junto al de Claudia. El rostro de Whitney ardía de ira. Se volvió hacia Claudia, de repente preocupada. Los cotilleos de extraños no importaban, pero ¿la traición de alguien a quien amas? Eso siempre calaba más hondo. Claudia observó la espalda de Jasper mientras se alejaba, cada paso alejándolo más de ella. Era como ver los años escurriéndose entre sus dedos, el chico con el que había crecido desvaneciéndose a lo lejos. Whitney le había preguntado una vez: Si nada hubiera interrumpido esta noche, ¿habrías dicho que sí? Pero, honestamente: No importara cuál fuera su respuesta, el final habría sido el mismo. Lydia nunca la dejaría ganar. Y Jasper nunca la elegiría a ella. En el momento en que le dio la espalda, no se dio cuenta de que, aunque el futuro pueda parecer interminable, la mujer dispuesta a esperarte no dura para siempre. Jasper… esta vez, realmente te dejo ir. En la mesa, entre el desorden, el teléfono de Claudia vibró. Una notificación de WhatsApp apareció, breve y suficiente. "Perdiste." Capítulo 2 Tres días antes, Lydia había acorralado a Claudia. "Sabes que Jasper está a punto de proponerte matrimonio, ¿verdad?" Sus bonitos ojos brillaban, no de emoción, sino de celos y malicia. "Oí que ambas familias querían pasar directamente a la fiesta de compromiso, pero él insistió en hacerlo bien. Dijo que necesitaba oír tu 'sí' él mismo, o no significaría nada. Ayy, qué romántico, ¿no?" "¿Y qué?" Claudia levantó la vista, su tono plano, sin inmutarse. La sonrisa de Lydia se curvó, afilada y venenosa. "¿Y qué? Claudia, ¿qué hace que una pecadora como tú crea que merece felicidad?" Se inclinó más cerca, con voz azucarada pero goteando veneno. "¿Quieres apostar? En tres días, esa propuesta ni siquiera ocurrirá." Claudia solo la miró fijamente. Para todos los demás, Lydia era pura perfección: de voz suave, gentil, toda gracia y luz. Nadie creería que a puerta cerrada podía escupir veneno así. Podría haber detenido la propuesta en cualquier momento que quisiera. Pero no. A Lydia le gustaba el drama. Quería esperar hasta el acto final, para empujar a Claudia fuera del escenario ella misma. Como siempre hacía. … Después de que la propuesta se fuera al traste, el teléfono de Whitney sonó. Una mirada a la identificación de la llamada, y su rostro se demudó. Maldijo entre dientes y salió corriendo. Había planeado dejar a Claudia primero —Claudia había llegado en el coche de Jasper—, pero cuando Claudia se dio cuenta de que algo pasaba con la madre de Whitney, la instó a irse. Cuando todos los demás se habían ido, Claudia se quedó entre los escombros de flores aplastadas y copas de champán, con la cabeza agachada, su expresión ilegible. Dejó escapar una risita amarga. Era tarde. Las calles afuera estaban tranquilas y vacías. Claudia salió del club sin ganas de ir a casa. Vagó junto al río, el frío de la noche calándole la piel. Entonces, se detuvo en seco. Los vellos de su nuca se erizaron: alguien la seguía. Levantó su teléfono, fingiendo tomar una selfie, inclinándolo lo justo para ver el reflejo detrás de ella. Un grupo de hombres, sombras acercándose. Su pulso se disparó. Empezó a caminar más rápido. Ellos también. Su pulgar se cernió sobre su contacto de emergencia —el número que Jasper la había obligado a configurar hacía un año. En aquel entonces, le había roto el brazo a un acosador por molestar a una chica y había terminado en la comisaría. Jasper la sacó bajo fianza, regañándola durante todo el trayecto a casa por ser imprudente. Se había puesto a sí mismo como su contacto de emergencia, haciéndole prometer que si alguna vez estaba en peligro, lo llamaría a él, sin heroísmos, sin orgullo. Había jurado que sin importar dónde o cuándo, iría por ella. Nunca imaginó que la primera vez que llamaría sería así. "¿Claudia?" La voz de Jasper llegó, baja y cansada. Estaba en el hospital. El accidente de Lydia no había sido grave, pero ella era frágil —nacida prematura, se alteraba fácilmente. Solo él podía calmarla. Todo el clan Lancaster estaba acampado fuera. Lydia acababa de quedarse dormida cuando llegó la llamada, despertándola de un salto. "Jasper, alguien me está siguiendo." Silencio. Luego, su voz, fría, desdeñosa. "Claudia, realmente no puedo irme esta noche. No montes una escena." Pensó que estaba mintiendo, intentando alejarlo otra vez del lado de la cama de Lydia. Justo entonces, la madre de Lydia, Lottie Wallace, entró con un vaso de agua. Su rostro suave y elegante se endureció al ver el teléfono en la mano de Jasper. "¡Claudia!", espetó. "Lydia acaba de tener un accidente, y ni siquiera te molestas en visitar. ¿Ahora estás quién sabe dónde, inventando historias? ¿Cuándo vas a crecer? Escucha: nadie se va esta noche. Deja ya tus juegos mezquinos." Colgó sin dudar. En la cama, Lydia yacía pálida y temblorosa. Su voz era pequeña, vacilante. "Mamá, no te enfades. ¿Y si Claudia realmente está en problemas?" Lottie suspiró, la decepción grabada a fuego. "¿Qué problemas podría tener? Esta no es la primera vez que intenta algo cuando tú estás enferma." En la secundaria, Claudia una vez había llamado a casa en medio de la noche, diciendo que la habían secuestrado y exigiendo dinero de rescate. Esa misma noche, Lydia había caído enferma. La familia ya estaba en pánico, y la supuesta llamada de rescate casi le da un infarto a Lottie. Habían corrido a la ubicación, solo para encontrar a Claudia saliendo ilesa, sin un rasguño. Para cuando volvieron a casa, Lydia se había desplomado en el suelo, sola. Era demasiado tarde cuando finalmente la llevaron al hospital. El doctor dijo que con otro retraso, no habría sobrevivido. Esa noche, el padre de Claudia la había golpeado hasta dejarla sangrando. Pasó un mes en el hospital, y nunca se disculpó. La voz de Lottie se suavizó, cargada de decepción. "¿Cuándo se volvió así mi dulce niña?" Jasper conocía cada palabra de esa historia. Incluso había sido él quien llevaba snacks a escondidas a la cama de Claudia en el hospital después, contando chistes estúpidos para hacerla reír. Pero esta noche era diferente. Se dijo a sí mismo que solo estaba haciendo una rabieta por la propuesta arruinada. No tenía energía para sus pataletas. Mañana, cuando se calmara, hablaría con ella, la haría sonreír de nuevo. Colgó, apartó el cabello de la frente de Lydia y susurró: "Se te ha ido la fiebre. Pórtate bien. Duerme." Los ojos de Lydia brillaron con culpa y suavidad. "Jasper, lo siento por esta noche. Es toda mi culpa. Si no fuera tan débil—" "No. Nunca eres una carga." "Jasper…" "Duerme." Sus pestañas aletearon y se cerraron, y una pequeña sonrisa curvó sus labios. Dormiría tranquila esa noche. … Detrás de Claudia, los hombres se acercaban, lentos, perezosos, como gatos jugando con un ratón. Ella siguió corriendo, la voz de Jasper y el regaño de Lottie resonando en su mente. Tal vez había estado decepcionada demasiadas veces, porque ni siquiera se sentía triste ya, solo vacía. Hueca. La noche de abril era cálida, pero cortaba como cristal. La empujaron a un rincón oscuro. Claudia se detuvo bajo un árbol, su expresión calmada, los ojos bajándose al suelo. Entonces, se movió. Quince minutos después, los hombres yacían esparcidos por el pavimento —brazos retorcidos, piernas rotas, gimiendo de dolor. Claudia, sin aliento y sangrando, se dejó caer en el bordillo. Agarró su teléfono con una mano resbaladiza de sangre y marcó al 911. Después de ese lío en octavo grado, había empezado kickboxing y defensa personal. Había aprendido pronto: nadie vendría a salvarla. Uno de los hombres, con el brazo doblado en la dirección incorrecta, empezó a arrastrarse hacia ella. Los ojos de Claudia se posaron sobre él, fríos y afilados. Antes de que pudiera moverse, una bota cayó con fuerza, enviando al tipo volando. Una sombra se cernió sobre ella: un hombre alto con una sonrisa perezosa y el tipo de rostro que podría salirse con la suya cometiendo un asesinato. La miró desde arriba, haciendo un clic suave con la lengua. "Tss. ¿De dónde ha salido esta criaturita?" Capítulo 3 Sterling Romero salió de la Mansión Romero esa noche, lo suficientemente enfadado como para dejar su coche a medio camino a casa y sacar al perro a pasear. Lo que no esperaba era toparse con esa escena. Allí estaba ella, un capullo de rosa hermoso y malherido, acorralado por una jauría de callejeros desaliñados. Parecía frágil, pero la forma en que levantaba la barbilla, los ojos ardiendo de desafío, lo atrajo directamente de vuelta al cachorro de lobo huérfano con el que había vivido en las montañas casi un mes cuando tenía diez años. Todo fanfarronería y dientes al descubierto, guardando su pequeño trozo de tierra. Débil, pero ardiendo de vida. Ese lobo había muerto por sus manos al final. ¿Y esta chica? Era el mismo tipo de criatura: pequeña, espinosa y lista para hacer sangrar a quien intentara hacerle daño. Su rostro ni siquiera se inmutó mientras rompía los brazos de esos matones como si fueran ramitas. Nada la conmovía. Sterling, que rara vez se preocupaba por nada, sintió un destello de interés que no podía sacudirse. En contra de su mejor juicio, intervino. De cerca, era aún más difícil de olvidar. Esos ojos, oscuros, claros, brillantes como una noche después de la lluvia, se engancharon en algo enterrado profundamente dentro de él. Cuando ella levantó la vista, sobresaltada, había un destello de luz estelar que le hizo picar los dedos, con ganas de alargar la mano, de cubrir esos ojos afilados e intrépidos. Bien. Ya había intervenido. Mejor llevarlo hasta el final. Y, honestamente, necesitaba desahogarse. El callejón se llenó de gritos. Hacía un minuto, esos matones solo estaban demasiado heridos para arrastrarse. ¿Ahora? Estaban hechos pedazos: brazos inútiles, piernas rotas, el pánico espeso en el aire. Se arrepentían de todo. El trabajo había sido simple: golpearla un poco, nada grave. Su jefe incluso les había advertido que no dejaran marcas. Pero ella era demasiado hermosa, y unos cuantos se volvieron codiciosos. ¿Quién podría haber imaginado que la belleza delicada pegaba como un demonio, y lo que era peor, que un hombre como él aparecería de la nada? Frío, letal, como la Muerte misma con un abrigo de diseñador. Si el asesinato fuera legal, estaban seguros de que les habría roto el cuello sin pestañear. El cabecilla ya estaba perdiendo la cabeza. Sterling volvió paseando hasta donde la chica yacía observando desde el suelo. Su tono llevaba un rastro de diversión maliciosa. "Eres rápida, pero no lo suficiente despiadada. Si dejas cabos sueltos así, volverán para morderte. Entonces, pequeña callejera, ¿cómo piensas pagarme esta noche?" Claudia, que podría haber manejado la pelea bien por sí sola, y que ahora de alguna manera le debía algo a este extraño, guardó silencio. Tumbada de espaldas, el rostro surcado de sangre y polvo, de alguna manera parecía irreal en la oscuridad. Sterling frunció el ceño. Sucio. Se inclinó para levantar a la silenciosa rosa a sus pies, entonces algo lo empujó con fuerza. Tropezó, perdió el equilibrio y cayó justo encima de ella. Su peso aplastó su brazo herido; su mano izquierda aterrizó sobre algo más suave. Sus dedos se tensaron y apretaron antes de que su cerebro reaccionara. Se quedó helado. Ella también. Sus ojos se encontraron, muy abiertos en mutua conmoción. A unos metros de distancia, el perro pastor culpable se sentó parpadeando, como diciendo: Por favor, no me vean. Inmovilizada bajo un extraño, con todo dolorido, Claudia respiró hondo y tembloroso. Guapo o no, un grupo seguía siendo un grupo. Su expresión calmada se volvió feroz. Sterling oyó las primeras palabras de la rosa para él esa noche. "¿Nadie te dijo nunca?" "¿Decirme qué?" "Que no metas la nariz en los asuntos de otros." Antes de que la última palabra se desvaneciera, le rodeó el cuello con los brazos y lo tiró hacia abajo. Sus frentes chocaron con un crujido. El dolor se disparó. "¡Agente! ¡Por aquí!" Su voz sonó clara. Segundos después, las sirenas partieron la noche. Los policías vinieron corriendo. Sterling, al darse cuenta de que acababa de ser utilizado, dejó escapar una risa baja e incrédula. "¿Así tratas a tu salvador?" Terminó tumbado exactamente donde ella había estado, su voz goteando sarcasmo. Claudia se puso de pie, medio en sombras, y le dedicó una sonrisa delgada. "Obviamente. Soy la villana desagradecida, ¿recuerdas?" … Esa noche, el chico de oro de Liberty City, el heredero de Romero Corporation, fue llevado a la comisaría. Clint apareció rápido con un abogado, echando miradas furtivas a la chica que despertó la rara misericordia del Segador… y luego lo denunció por acoso. ¿Valiente, verdad? Era hermosa, y claramente no le temía a nada. Una vez que los matones fueron registrados, Clint se preparó, esperando a que Sterling dijera la palabra: Encárgate de ella. En cambio, Sterling dijo: "Averigua quién es." "¿Quién?" La palabra se le escapó antes de que Clint pudiera detenerse. Sterling nunca mostraba interés en ninguna mujer. La sola idea daba miedo. La mirada de Sterling se clavó en él, lo suficientemente afilada para hacerlo callar. "Sí, señor", murmuró Clint rápidamente. Mirando a la chica alejarse a zancadas después de lanzar una última mirada ardiente por encima del hombro, Clint sintió una punzada de lástima. Eso era todo. Ella y toda su familia estaban acabadas. … Ajena a la tormenta que acababa de desatar, Claudia se arrastró a casa al amanecer, perseguida por una ráfaga de llamadas. Su padre, Wilson Lancaster, la recibió en la puerta con una bofetada sonora. "¿Cómo he criado a una hija como tú?" No esquivó a tiempo. Su mejilla pálida enrojeció e hinchó. La habitación se quedó helada. Jasper frunció el ceño, con dolor destellando en sus ojos. Se obligó a no intervenir. Claudia había cruzado la línea esta vez; si no aprendía, quién sabía qué caos provocaría después. Aun así… Wilson había golpeado demasiado fuerte. La visión le retorció algo en el pecho. Lottie, Clarence y Zane llevaban la misma expresión enfadada y decepcionada. En el sofá, los ojos de Lydia brillaban con una alegría mal disimulada. Había estado furiosa la noche anterior porque los cretinos que contrató habían metido la pata y terminado en la comisaría. Por suerte, había cubierto sus huellas. Habían afirmado que fue solo un agarre "en un momento de arrebato", y como no pasó nada grave, no había nada que la vinculara a ella. Había sido dada de alta esa mañana y soltó el cebo que tenía preparado desde hacía tiempo. Los Lancaster se lo tragaron entero. Después de desaparecer toda la noche, nadie preguntó dónde había estado Claudia, ni notó sus heridas. La recibieron con una bofetada. Esa era su familia. Claudia no discutió. Caminó directamente hacia la pequeña Lydia, presumida y satisfecha.
💕💕❤️❤️💖💖😍😍😘😘🥰🥰 Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia
💕💕❤️❤️💖💖😍😍😘😘🥰🥰 Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia
💕💕❤️❤️💖💖😍😍😘😘🥰🥰 Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia
💕💕❤️❤️💖💖😍😍😘😘🥰🥰 Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia
💕💕❤️❤️💖💖😍😍😘😘🥰🥰 Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia
💕💕❤️❤️💖💖😍😍😘😘🥰🥰 Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia
💕💕❤️❤️💖💖😍😍😘😘🥰🥰 Chapter 1Bang!The doors to the event room burst open."Something happened to Lydia!" a man shouted as he stumbled in, panic all over his face.The words hit like a bomb.The room—decked out in flowers, ribbons, and romantic music, buzzing with excitement over the proposal—instantly went still.The man in the spotlight, still down on one knee, ring in hand, spun around in shock."What did you just say?"Quade Zimmer, his blue-dyed hair as loud as his voice, blurted, "Mrs. Lancaster just called—Lydia's been in a car accident! She's at the hospital right now!"The words had barely left his mouth before chaos erupted—chairs scraping, heels clacking, people rushing for the door.It wasn't an exaggeration to say Lydia Wallace was the it girl of their circle—beautiful, talented, fragile in that heartbreaking way that made people want to protect her. Everyone adored her, pitied her, worshipped her.And now that their goddess was hurt?No one had the heart to keep celebrating a proposal everyone already knew the answer to.Even the guy proposing dropped everything and bolted."Jasper—"The voice that called his name came from behind—soft, barely more than a breath.That was when everyone finally realized: the woman being proposed to hadn't said a single word this whole time.Somebody must've hit the lights in the chaos, because the room dimmed. The only glow came from the soft wall lights.In the corner, half in shadow, half in light, stood Claudia Lancaster. Her beauty wasn't the sweet, gentle kind—it was sharp, striking, unforgettable.But right now, her calm was unnerving. Her expression gave away nothing."You don't want to hear my answer?" she asked quietly.Just a minute ago, Jasper Fenton had asked her to marry him.Now, halfway out the door, he froze.He didn't even try to explain. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I have to go to the hospital. Go home first, okay?""What if I don't let you go?" Her voice stayed steady. "Jasper, you know I hate her."Jasper sighed, exasperated. "Claudia, not now. This isn't the time to start a fight.""My answer… you might only get it once," she said, calm as ever.Something about her tone made him pause. Normally, the moment Lydia's name came up, Claudia would explode—snapping, rolling her eyes, cursing Lydia under her breath.But tonight, she was cool, detached. Almost like she'd been expecting this.A flicker of unease crawled up Jasper's spine."Oh, please," Quade cut in, rolling his eyes. "You've been obsessed with Jasper since, what, middle school? The guy finally proposes and we're supposed to believe you'd say no?""Yeah, someone might actually be dying. You can get proposed to any other day." Someone else chimed in."Exactly! The families arranged this ages ago—this whole thing's just for show."The comments stung, but Claudia didn't so much as blink. Her dark eyes stayed locked on Jasper. Waiting.Jasper let out another sigh and came back to her. Like always, he ruffled her hair like she was a kid. "Be good, okay? Don't make a scene. Lydia could be seriously hurt. This isn't the time for a tantrum."It was always like this. Whenever Lydia was involved, Jasper never asked who was right or wrong.He'd run to comfort Lydia first—and then come back to scold Claudia, soft and patient, like she was a spoiled child who just didn't understand.That was what loving someone from below felt like. No matter how you screamed, your anger was just "cute." Never serious.This proposal? It had never been a real question. Jasper already knew what her answer should've been."Oh, screw this—I can't keep my mouth shut anymore!"Whitney Sawyer slammed her clutch down, fury flashing in her eyes. She'd been holding it in ever since Quade barged in, but enough was enough."Jasper, are you her boyfriend or her personal EMT? How is it that every time Lydia gets into 'an accident,' she calls you? Always perfectly timed, always ruining your plans. Last time it was a date, now it's your proposal! What, she couldn't hold off dying for five minutes?"As Claudia's best friend, Whitney had spent weeks planning this proposal. And now, once again, Lydia had hijacked it—and Jasper fell right into the trap.Whitney's fury spread like wildfire. "And the rest of you! What are you running for—visiting her or planning her funeral? At this rate, Lydia should've died a hundred times already!""Whitney!" Jasper's face darkened; the gentle, mild-mannered man vanished. His voice snapped like a whip. "Watch your mouth.""Oh, spare me." Whitney's voice rose, sharp and furious. "You can't stand to hear your precious Lydia criticized? Jasper, do you even remember who your girlfriend is?"Jasper's eyes iced over. Claudia caught Whitney's arm, voice quiet but firm."If you walk out that door, Jasper, we're done."Too much time had already been wasted. Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed."Don't say something you'll regret. Claudia, we'll talk when I get back."He turned and strode out without another glance.He didn't even know how bad Lydia's injuries were—he just knew he had to go.He told himself, When I get back, I'll make it up to her. I'll give her an even better proposal.He also made a mental note to tell Claudia to stay away from Whitney; clearly that girl was filling her head with nonsense.The room sagged under the weight of it all. Even those who thought Claudia was being dramatic kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to cross Jasper—or the Sawyers.One by one, they slipped away.In minutes, the place was unrecognizable.Crushed rose petals and ribbons littered the floor. Wine bottles rolled under chairs. Frosting smeared across the carpet. The whole scene looked like a parody of what it had been—mocking the ridiculousness of it all.As the last few lingered, someone frowned. "Wait—Lydia's the Lancasters' adopted daughter, right? I heard she's Claudia's cousin. Why didn't anyone call Claudia too?""Call her? What, you want to make Lydia's injuries even worse?""Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?""The usual. Miss Lancaster's cold, cruel, ungrateful… you know how it goes."The whispers started again—soft, poisonous, and familiar. They always did whenever Lydia's name came up next to Claudia's.Whitney's face burned with anger. She turned to Claudia, suddenly worried.Strangers' gossip didn't matter—but betrayal from someone you love? That always hit deeper.Claudia watched Jasper's back as he walked away, each step pulling him further from her. It felt like watching the years slip through her fingers—the boy she'd grown up with fading out of reach.Whitney had asked her once: If nothing had interrupted tonight, would you have said yes?But honestly?No matter what her answer was, the ending would've been the same. Lydia would never let her win.And Jasper would never choose her.The moment he turned his back, he didn't realize—while the future might feel endless, the woman willing to wait for you doesn't last forever.Jasper… this time, I'm really letting go.On the table amid the mess, Claudia's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification popped up, short and smug."You lost."Chapter 2Three days earlier, Lydia had cornered Claudia."You know Jasper's about to propose, don't you?"Her pretty eyes sparkled—not with excitement, but with jealousy and malice."I heard both families wanted to skip straight to the engagement party, but he insisted on doing it right. Said he needed to hear your 'yes' himself, or it wouldn't mean a thing. Aww, how romantic, isn't it?""So what?" Claudia looked up, her tone flat, unbothered.Lydia's smile curved, sharp and poisonous. "So what? Claudia, what makes a sinner like you think you deserve happiness?"She leaned closer, voice sugary-sweet but dripping venom. "Wanna bet? In three days, that proposal won't even happen."Claudia just stared at her. To everyone else, Lydia was pure perfection—soft-spoken, gentle, all grace and light. No one would believe that behind closed doors, she could spit venom like this.She could've stopped the proposal anytime she wanted. But no—Lydia liked drama. She wanted to wait until the final act, to shove Claudia off the stage herself. Just like she always did.…After the proposal went up in flames, Whitney's phone rang. One look at the caller ID, and her face fell. She muttered a curse and bolted. She'd planned to drop Claudia off first—Claudia had arrived in Jasper's car—but when Claudia realized something was wrong with Whitney's mom, she pushed her to go.When everyone else was gone, Claudia stood in the wreckage of crushed flowers and champagne glasses, her head bowed, her expression unreadable. She let out a small, bitter laugh.It was late. The streets outside were quiet and empty. Claudia left the club with no desire to go home. She wandered along the river, the cold of the night seeping into her skin.Then, she froze.The hairs on her neck stood up—someone was following her.She raised her phone, pretending to take a selfie, tilting it just enough to see the reflection behind her. A group of men, shadows closing in.Her pulse spiked. She started walking faster. So did they.Her thumb hovered over her emergency contact—the number Jasper had made her set up a year ago.Back then, she'd broken some creep's arm for harassing a girl and ended up at the police station. Jasper bailed her out, scolding her the entire ride home for being reckless. He'd put himself down as her emergency contact, made her promise that if she was ever in danger, she'd call him—no heroics, no pride.He'd sworn that no matter where or when, he'd come for her.She never imagined the first time she'd call would be like this."Claudia?" Jasper's voice came through, low and tired. He was at the hospital. Lydia's accident hadn't been serious, but she was fragile—born premature, easily shaken. Only he could calm her down. The whole Lancaster clan was camped outside. Lydia had finally drifted off when the call came in, jolting her awake."Jasper, someone's following me."Silence.Then, his voice—cold, dismissive."Claudia, I really can't leave tonight. Don't make a scene."He thought she was lying, trying to drag him away from Lydia's bedside again.Just then, Lydia's mother, Lottie Wallace, walked in with a glass of water. Her soft, elegant face hardened when she saw the phone in Jasper's hand."Claudia!" she snapped. "Lydia just got into an accident, and you can't even be bothered to visit. Now you're out God-knows-where, making up stories? When will you grow up? Listen—no one's leaving tonight. Stop your petty games."She hung up without hesitation.On the bed, Lydia lay pale and trembling. Her voice was small, hesitant."Mom, don't be mad. What if Claudia really is in trouble?"Lottie sighed, disappointment etched deep. "What trouble could she possibly be in? This isn't the first time she's tried to pull something when you're sick."Back in middle school, Claudia had once called home in the middle of the night, saying she'd been kidnapped and demanding ransom money. The same night, Lydia had fallen ill. The family was panicking already, and the so-called ransom call nearly gave Lottie a heart attack. They'd rushed to the location—only to find Claudia walking out unharmed, not a scratch on her.By the time they returned home, Lydia had collapsed on the floor, alone. It was too late when they finally got her to the hospital. The doctor said another delay, and she wouldn't have made it.That night, Claudia's father had beaten her bloody. She spent a month in the hospital—and never once apologized.Lottie's voice softened, heavy with disappointment. "When did my sweet little girl turn out like this?"Jasper knew every word of that story. He'd even been the one sneaking snacks to Claudia's hospital bed afterward, cracking stupid jokes to make her laugh. But tonight was different. He told himself she was just acting out after the ruined proposal. He didn't have the energy for her tantrums. Tomorrow, when she cooled off, he'd talk to her, make her smile again.He hung up, brushed Lydia's hair off her forehead, and whispered, "Your fever's gone. Be good. Sleep."Lydia's eyes shone with guilt and softness. "Jasper, I'm sorry about tonight. It's all my fault. If I weren't so weak—""Don't. You're never a burden.""Jasper…""Sleep."Her lashes fluttered shut, and a tiny smile curved her lips. She'd sleep easy tonight.…Behind Claudia, the men closed in—slowly, lazily, like cats toying with a mouse. She kept running on, Jasper's voice and Lottie's scolding echoing in her mind. Maybe she'd been disappointed too many times, because she didn't even feel sad anymore—just empty. Hollow.The April night was warm, but it cut like glass.They pushed her into a dark corner. Claudia stopped under a tree, expression calm, eyes dropping to the ground.Then she moved.Fifteen minutes later, the men were sprawled across the pavement—arms twisted, legs broken, groaning in pain. Claudia, out of breath and bleeding, dropped onto the curb. She grabbed her phone with a blood-slick hand and dialed 911.After that mess in eighth grade, she'd taken up kickboxing and self-defense. She'd learned early: no one was coming to save her.One of the men, his arm bent the wrong way, started crawling toward her. Claudia's eyes flicked over, cold and sharp—Before she could move, a boot came down hard, sending the guy flying.A shadow loomed over her—a tall man with a lazy grin and the kind of face that could get away with murder. He looked down at her from above, tongue clicking softly."Tsk. Where'd this poor thing come from?"Chapter 3Sterling Romero left Romero Manor that night, pissed off enough to ditch his car halfway home and take the dog for a walk. What he didn't expect was to stumble into that scene.There she was—a gorgeous, battered little rosebud—cornered by a pack of mangy strays. She looked fragile, but the way she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with defiance, yanked him straight back to the orphaned wolf pup he'd once lived with in the mountains for almost a month when he was ten.All bluff and bared teeth, guarding its tiny patch of earth. Weak, but burning with life.That wolf had died by his hands in the end.And this girl? She was the same kind of creature—small, thorny, and ready to bleed whoever tried to hurt her.Her face didn't even twitch as she broke those thugs' arms like twigs. Nothing touched her.Sterling—who rarely cared about anything—felt a flicker of interest he couldn't shake. Against his better judgment, he stepped in.Up close, she was even harder to forget. Those eyes—dark, clear, bright as a night after rain—hooked into something buried deep inside him. When she looked up, startled, there was a starlit glint that made his fingers itch to reach out, to cover those sharp, fearless eyes.Fine. He'd already intervened. Might as well see it through. And, honestly, he needed to blow off some steam.The alley was filled with screams.A minute ago, those thugs had just been too hurt to crawl. Now? They were in pieces—arms useless, legs broken, panic thick in the air.They regretted everything. The job had been simple—rough her up a bit, nothing major. Their boss had even warned them not to leave marks. But she was too beautiful, and a few of them got greedy.Who could've guessed that the delicate beauty punched like a demon—and worse, that a man like him would show up out of nowhere? Cold, lethal, like Death himself in a designer coat. If murder were legal, they were sure he'd have snapped their necks without blinking.The ringleader was already losing it.Sterling strolled back to where the girl lay watching from the ground. His tone carried a trace of wicked amusement."You're fast, but not nearly ruthless enough. Leave loose ends like that, and they'll come back to bite you. So, little stray—how're you planning to pay me back tonight?"Claudia—who could've handled the fight fine on her own, and now somehow owed this stranger—went silent.Flat on her back, face streaked with blood and dust, she somehow looked unreal in the dark.Sterling's brow furrowed. Filthy.He reached down to pull the quiet rosebud to her feet—then something shoved him hard. He stumbled, lost his balance, and went down right on top of her.His weight crushed her injured arm; his left hand landed on something softer. His fingers tensed and squeezed before his brain caught up. He froze. So did she. Their eyes locked, wide in mutual shock.A few feet away, the guilty shepherd dog sat blinking, like, Please don't notice me.Pinned under a stranger, everything aching, Claudia drew a long, shaky breath. Handsome or not, a group was still a group. Her calm expression sharpened to something feral.Sterling heard the rosebud's first words to him that night."No one ever told you?""Told me what?""Not to stick your nose in other people's business."Before the last word faded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. Their foreheads collided with a crack. Pain spiked.“Officer! Over here!" Her voice rang out clear. Seconds later, sirens split the night. Cops came running.Sterling, realizing he'd just been played, let out a low, disbelieving laugh."That's how you treat your savior?"He ended up sprawled exactly where she'd been, his voice dripping with sarcasm.Claudia stood, half-shadowed, and gave him a thin smile.“Obviously. I'm the ungrateful villainess, remember?"...That night, Liberty City's golden boy—the heir to Romero Corporation—got hauled down to the station.Clint showed up fast with a lawyer, sneaking looks at the girl who sparked the Reaper's rare mercy… and then nailed him for harassment. Bold enough, right? She was gorgeous—and clearly afraid of nothing.Once the thugs were booked, Clint braced himself, waiting for Sterling to say the word: Handle her.Instead, Sterling said, "Find out who she is.""Who?" The word slipped out before Clint could stop it. Sterling never showed interest in any woman. The idea alone was terrifying.Sterling's gaze cut his way, sharp enough to shut him up. "Yes, sir," Clint muttered quickly.Watching the girl stride off after throwing one last, blazing look over her shoulder, Clint felt a pang of pity. That was it. She and her whole family were done....Unaware of the storm she'd just kicked up, Claudia dragged herself home at dawn, chased by a barrage of calls.Her father, Wilson Lancaster, met her at the door with a ringing slap."How did I raise a daughter like you?"She didn't dodge in time. Her pale cheek bloomed red and swollen.The room froze.Jasper's brow furrowed, pain flashing in his eyes. He forced himself not to interfere. Claudia had crossed a line this time; if she didn't learn, who knew what chaos she'd stir up next? Still… Wilson had hit too hard. The sight twisted something in Jasper's chest.Lottie, Clarence, and Zane all wore the same angry, disappointed look. On the sofa, Lydia's eyes gleamed with poorly hidden glee.She'd been furious last night that her hired creeps had blown it and ended up at the station. Luckily, she'd covered her tracks. They'd claimed it was just a "heat-of-the-moment" grab, and since nothing serious happened, there was nothing to tie back to her.She'd been discharged that morning and dropped the bait she'd prepped ages ago. The Lancasters swallowed it whole.After disappearing all night, nobody asked where Claudia had been—or noticed her injuries. They greeted her with a slap. That was her family.Claudia didn't argue. She walked straight up to smug little Lydia
I was the only princess of Royal St. Ashford Academy — the girl with four fathers.After my mother died, her four childhood sweethearts found me still alive inside her belly.And so I ended up with four fathers. My first father, Ethan Sterling, was the head of a hundred-billion-dollar dynasty. He was also the sole trustee of Royal St. Ashford Academy, holding absolute authority over the institution. My second father, Marcus Sterling, was the commander of the world's largest private military corporation — his army could annihilate a small country with ease. My third father, Julian Sterling, was a universally recognized medical genius — the next Nobel Prize candidate. My fourth father, Liam Sterling, was the most feared legend in the underground fighting circuit — before he even turned seventeen, he had defeated thirty-three elite enforcers from criminal syndicates around the globe. I grew up drowning in the love of four fathers. No matter where I went, I was the center of everyone's envy. Until the year I turned eighteen, when the four fathers' shared daughter, Bianca White, was found and brought back. From that day on, these four men became entirely different people. Bianca said I'd verbally abused her. My second father injected me with a hallucinogenic drug — I stripped naked on the school rooftop like a lunatic and danced, then fell and shattered both my legs, missing prom entirely. A video of my naked dance spread across the school's network in minutes. When my first father saw it, he locked me — a girl with severe claustrophobia — in a pitch-black closet for three days and three nights. When I came out, I discovered that every honor I'd ever earned at school had been transferred to Bianca. She said I'd poisoned her. My third father, Julian, locked me inside his deadly fungal cultivation chamber. I became the perfect host for every pathogen inside — fungal hyphae burrowed through my pores and into my organs. Only when I was on the verge of death did they pull me out and blast me under cold water for an entire night, barely saving my life. But my right eye lost all its vision permanently. After Bianca cried yet again, claiming I'd tricked her into going to a bar where she was nearly attacked by dangerous men, my first father flew into a rage and threw me into an underground bar — where I became the lowest of the low: a stripper. For three years, I went from defiance to submission — because on my eighteenth birthday, my virginity was stolen by eighteen filthy strangers. From that day on, I was reduced to nothing more than the cheapest whore. Whenever my door opened, I instinctively spread my legs and lay back on the couch. That's when I heard a voice say: "Iris, would you like to come back to your mother?" ...... I jerked my head up. There was no one in the room. But the voice came again — I spotted a glowing screen on the floor. An unfamiliar yet somehow warm face appeared on the small display. She said her name was Helen, my mother's closest friend. She said my mother, Lillian, hadn't actually died that day. She'd been poisoned — a rare toxin that induced a death-like state — and then smuggled away by people who owed her their lives. And now she knew I was alive. She wanted to bring me home. The grief and pain I'd been suppressing broke free — I sobbed, crying out that I wanted to find my mother. But Helen's tone was tense. She said the Sterling family's reach was too vast. If they discovered Mother was still alive, they would track her down. The only safe way was to make everyone believe I was dead. "Only when you 'die' will they stop looking for you. Our people will extract you after your 'death.' Your mother is waiting on the other side." "Iris, even a faked death will be extremely painful — are you willing to —" Helen hadn't even finished her sentence before I was on my feet, grabbing a shard of glass from the broken mirror and pressing it to my throat without a moment's hesitation. *Yes!* Mother was alive! All I had to do was "die," and I could see her. Overwhelming joy drowned out every fear of death — this body had already endured too much. If "death" was the only way to reach Mother, I wouldn't hesitate for a second. But just as I was about to drag the glass across my skin, a massive force knocked it from my hand. The pain made me let go. The shard fell to the floor, and a foot stepped on it. "Iris, trying to kill yourself?" That familiar voice made me look up. When I saw who it was, I called out instinctively. "Fourth Father." The moment the word left my mouth, I regretted it. Sure enough, the man's brow furrowed at the title. "Don't call me that. I cut ties with you a long time ago." The person standing before me was Liam Sterling. When I was little, I'd been kidnapped by a rival family. He alone stormed into their compound, took three knife wounds without flinching, and carried me out without a scratch on me. After he rescued me, I cried so hard looking at his wounds that I couldn't breathe. But he just ruffled my hair and said those cuts didn't hurt at all. What hurt, he said, was watching me cry. Of the four fathers, the fourth was the one who loved me most. But that love vanished four years ago, when my second father Marcus brought an injured Bianca back from a school field trip. I'd always known my four fathers shared a single obsession — a woman they all loved. I just didn't know that woman wasn't my mother. It was Bianca's mother, Celine White. The truth was something I'd pieced together fragment by fragment: my mother, Lillian, grew up alongside the four Sterling brothers. Their father had been destroyed by a corporate conspiracy — framed, bankrupted, driven to an early grave. It was young Lillian who hid the four boys, placing each with a different guardian, a different mentor. They grew into their own. With Mother Lillian's help, they completed their revenge — Ethan reclaimed the family empire and cleared the Sterling name. Lillian and Ethan were supposed to be together. Childhood sweethearts — two hearts long promised to each other. But on the eve of the wedding, Celine White appeared. The moment she walked in, all four fathers' eyes shifted. After that, they called Lillian "jealous" and "unstable." They said she kept trying to hurt Celine. They said she eventually killed herself out of spite. After Mother's death, Celine disappeared too. It wasn't until Bianca appeared that the fathers learned — or thought they learned — the truth: Celine had left because she felt guilty about Lillian's death. Honestly? I never believed any of it. My gut told me Mother wasn't the villain. Celine was. But the fathers didn't trust my instincts. The brothers didn't either. They even thought I was just like my mother — petty, jealous, always competing for attention. So every time Bianca and I clashed, all eight of them stood on her side. Before long, I went from the most pampered princess of Ashford Prep to the lowest creature in an underground bar. My fourth father picked up the glass shard from the floor, glanced at the cut on my neck. Then his hand flicked, and the shard flew straight at me. I stumbled back two steps on instinct. The glass grazed my throat, leaving another thin red line. My fourth father let out a cold laugh: "If you really want to die, why'd you dodge?" "Iris, you're just like your mother — always hurting yourself to get attention." "At least she was smarter about it. She always performed in front of us. You picked this dump. Pathetic." Chapter 2: A Door Opened at 140 Km/h I was about to explain that I wasn't acting. But then I remembered — every explanation I'd ever given, they had never once listened. So I lowered my head. "You're absolutely right, Mr. Sterling. So what brings you all the way to a place like this — here just to watch my performance?" My fourth father paused. "Don't flatter yourself. Today is Bianca's birthday, and her heir designation ceremony. She recently said she's willing to forgive you and start fresh. I'm here to bring you." He added after a beat, "Ethan wants to see you too." I'd heard three days ago that my first father, Ethan, was going to formally designate Bianca as the Sterling family heir — the ceremony timed to her birthday, complete with a grand gala. I was a year older than her. *Sterling heir* — that was a title my first father had promised me when I was ten. If this had been the old me, I would have torn the whole thing down before letting anyone take what was mine. But now I just looked at my fourth father, expressionless. "I don't want to go." My fourth father stared for a moment, then said: "This isn't up to you." He grabbed my arm and dragged me out the door, shoved me into his car. He drove me to his place first — made me shower, changed my clothes — then headed for the Sterling estate. In the car, my fourth father wouldn't stop talking in my ear — telling me to be kind to Bianca, not to provoke her, not to think about bullying her. My heart ached with a dull, familiar pain. I watched the highway blur past outside the windows, faster and faster, and the desire to see Mother grew louder and louder in my head. Then I sat up, unbuckled my seatbelt, and at a hundred and forty kilometers per hour, I opened the car door. Before my feet left the car, I heard his scream. *At this speed,* I thought, *I'll definitely die.* But the expected pain never came. Instead, I landed in a warm embrace. My fourth father had caught me. We tumbled across the gravel shoulder, rolling twice before stopping. His furious voice exploded above my head. "Iris, have you lost your mind?!" I looked at him. Blood from a gash on his forehead was streaming down his face. I instinctively reached out to wipe it away. But my fourth father recoiled in disgust, his expression turning vicious: "Can you stop playing these games? You just want to see if I still care, don't you? Let me tell you — saving you means nothing. I'd save a stranger too. If I'd known this was your angle, I never would have jumped." "Next time you want to die, go ahead. I won't stop you." My hand froze in midair. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the river beyond the highway guardrail. I let out a bitter laugh. "Fine, Mr. Sterling. Remember what you just said." Before he could react, I was on my feet in an instant. Without looking back, I vaulted over the guardrail and threw myself into the water. My fourth father had nearly drowned in a swimming pool as a child. He was terrified of water. And after saying something that cruel, he definitely wouldn't come after me. So when the freezing river water rushed into my nose, I felt happy. *Finally — once they think I'm dead, I'll be free. I'll get to see Mother!* Chapter 3: Every Time They Saved Me, They Trapped Me Deeper I don't know how much time passed before the darkness lifted. Just as I was excitedly sitting up, thinking I'd find Mother, someone slapped me so hard I hit the floor. "You bitch! All we did was have you wash glasses and carry plates at the bar, and the second you see Liam, you pull this stunt! Do you know he almost drowned trying to save you?!" My third father Julian's voice came from above me. His face was ashen. Behind him stood Julian, hands in his pockets, watching me like I was some incomprehensible stranger. Of the four fathers, I'd been closest with my third father. The others were always busy, so the daily task of raising and educating me had fallen to him. He taught me to read and write. Taught me chemistry. Taught me to identify plants and compounds. He was the gentlest of them all. No matter how badly I messed up, he was patient. Never once punished me. But my third father — who never even raised his voice around me — hit me the very first day Bianca arrived. That day, Bianca had touched Julian's lab chemicals on her own. She insisted I'd put them on her. My third father took a belt and whipped me with it. "Iris, I failed you as a teacher. That's why you turned out this reckless — toying with people's lives." Later, when Bianca was poisoned again, my third father force-fed me an allergenic compound, then threw me into his university lab's hazardous materials room. Countless particles detonated inside my body. Even though Julian treated me afterward, I still lost all sensation in one leg. Seeing that I wasn't speaking, my third father assumed I was conceding guilt. His anger deepened. He raised his hand to hit me again. But my fourth father caught his wrist just in time. "Julian, calm down. Today Bianca is being formally designated as Sterling heir — of course she can't handle it. She's already tried to kill herself three times in front of me." *Tried to kill herself.* They thought I was suicidal. What they didn't know was that every time they "saved" me, they were trapping me deeper. I glanced at my fourth father. He'd changed clothes. His wounds were bandaged. But his face was paper-white. I remembered what my third father had just said. So it really was him who'd saved me. But my fourth father couldn't swim. I couldn't imagine how much it had cost him to pull me out of that water. My third father scoffed. "Liam, she played you. You've been away the past four years — she's pulled this act on us more times than I can count. It's just to get attention." My fourth father blinked, then exhaled a few seconds later as if relieved. "So that's all it is." Nolan pushed his glasses up and chimed in: "She's always been like this. Last time she stood at the edge of the rooftop in the school's main plaza, she had everyone fooled — students even filmed it and it went viral. Next day she was perfectly fine." His tone was flat. As if he were describing the weather. My third father turned back to me. "Iris, today is Bianca's birthday. You can throw your tantrum in front of the two of us, but don't you dare make a scene in front of Ethan and Marcus. You know how those two are—" Before he could finish, I was already lunging for the medicine cabinet behind him. I'd lived at my third father's place long enough to know exactly where he kept the dangerous drugs. I opened the cabinet, found the most toxic bottle inside. Took out the most lethal pill. Swallowed it without hesitation. My third father's face went white.