Novels by Lila Hartfield

Chapter 3: AriaAdrian walks me to my door, his shoulder brushing gently against mine as we slow to a stop. The night air is still laced with the perfume of gardenias from the ball, and there's a kind of lull in the silence between us.“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks softly, turning to face me. “It’s been six years. Seeing him again… that must’ve been jarring.”I offer him a smile. “I’m okay, Adrian… really. A bit shaken, sure. But it’s been six years. I’m… unaffected.”He raises an eyebrow. “Unbothered Aria, huh?”I shrug lightly. “Unbothered. Evolved. Transcended,” I add with a dry chuckle.Adrian narrows his eyes at me, unconvinced. “If you’re so transcendent, then why not come out to Xavier’s club with us tonight? You know he likes you. Free drinks, no pretences. Loud music, low lighting, and terrible decisions. What more could a girl want?”I groan, laughing as I lean against my doorframe. “Oh come on. I just want to be home, wash my face, FaceTime my mom, and let the Micheli

DamienI watch her walk away. Like I did six years ago, rooted to the spot because I do not know how to fix this –to fix us. She didn’t even flinch when she saw me. The thought lodges in my throat. I’d imagined this moment a thousand times—what I’d say, how she’d react. But Aria Laurent had looked at me with the same polite detachment she’d give a stranger who bumped into her at the market. The emerald silk of her dress catches the light one last time before she turns the corner, leaving me in the gala’s golden haze. A small hand tugs my sleeve. “Daddy, can we go home now? I’m tired.” Theo’s voice snaps me back. His bowtie hangs loose, his curls rebelliously escaping the gel I’d carefully applied earlier. There’s a smudge of chocolate on his cheek from the dessert table he’d raided when he thought I wasn’t looking. I kneel to fix his collar. “Soon, buddy. But we have to say goodbye to Grandma first.” He groans, flopping against me. “But she talks forever.” “That’s because she’s

Aria6 Years LaterElena screams, startling me into a scream and we both scream.It’s high-pitched and chaotic, echoing off the tiled walls of the bakery and startling a poor elderly man in line holding a croissant like it’s suddenly turned into a weapon.“This bakery has a Michelin star, y’all!” Elena shouts, and for a moment, I just blink at her, unsure if I’ve heard right.The room explodes into cheers. Applause rings out like confetti, bouncing between display cases and hanging plants. My staff starts yelling my name, whooping and whistling. Someone starts clapping in a rhythm like it’s a football match. My heart is racing. I can’t feel my legs.“What?” I whisper, looking down at the notification Elena’s shoved into my hand. The words Michelin Guide and Joie Du Sucre are right there on the screen. Real. Unmistakable.“Elena,” I breathe, “we did it. We actually—”“We freaking did it!” she screams again, throwing her arms around me in a tackle-hug that nearly sends us crashing into

PrologueThe applause is thunderous as I step off the stage, my valedictorian medal swinging against my chest with each hurried step. The sound wraps around me like a second skin—familiar, comforting. I've spent four years at Blackwood Academy chasing this moment, this validation, this proof that I belonged here just as much as the legacy kids with their trust funds and family wings named after them. And then I see him. Damien. My boyfriend of three years is on his feet, clapping harder than anyone, those stupid dimples I love so much on full display. His Blackwood-blue tie is loosened around his neck, his graduation cap slightly askew because that’s just who he is, my adorably messy boy. When our eyes meet, he mouths, "That's my girl," and my cheeks flush with equal parts pride and embarrassment. I roll my eyes but can't fight the smile tugging at my lips as I slide back into my seat beside him. "Hey, pretty baby," he murmurs, his knee pressing against mine beneath the chairs. H