𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚I step off the bus, adjusting the strap of my purse as I start the familiar walk back to my apartment. I've only walked past a few houses when a chill suddenly creeps down my spine, having absolutely nothing to do with the cold.I’m not sure what sets me off first—the way the air suddenly feels heavier or the prickling sensation at the back of my neck. But the moment I stop to listen closely, I hear it.Footsteps. Slow. Careful. Too careful. Like they have purpose.My breath hitches, and my fingers tighten around the strap of my bag. It could be nothing—someone else walking home or going for an evening stroll—but my gut tells me otherwise.Forcing my legs to keep a steady pace, I walk faster, my heart pounding with every step. The streets aren’t deserted, but they’re quiet enough that every little noise feels amplified.I turn the corner onto my street, my building in sight. Almost there.But my heart lurches when the footsteps behind me seem to pick up speed, closing in.
𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚Standing before the full-length mirror in my room, I smooth my hands over the silky, cream dress I’d chosen for tonight's occasion. Soft and elegant, despite coming from a clearance rack, it fits snugly yet remains modest. Understated. And exactly what I need to blend in tonight. After that dreadful night few months ago, wearing anything remotely revealing feels impossible.My makeup is minimal—light foundation, a hint of blush, and soft nude gloss. Nothing too bold or attention-grabbing. My choice of jewelry is a pair of delicate silver earrings and a matching bracelet on my wrist. I tilt my head slightly, studying my reflection. My midnight-black hair is swept into a neat bun, with a few stray curls left to frame my face. It doesn’t exactly make me unrecognizable, but it'll have to do.Through the mirror, I spot my best friend behind me, leaning against my bedroom doorway with her arms crossed, a knowing smirk tugging on her lips. “I must say you clean up real nicely,
𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚Marcos’s car slows to a smooth stop in front of an estate straight out of a European aristocrat’s dream. Towering Corinthian columns rise along the grand façade, their pristine white stone carved with intricate lines and details that tell of a wealth spanning generations. A stately pediment crowns the entrance, adorned with elegant reliefs, while wrought-iron balconies curve above tall, arched windows that gleam beneath the chandelier-lit interior. The mansion’s pristine symmetry, from its ornate cornices to the black mansard roof edged with decorative railings, exudes a timeless authority.At the heart of the circular driveway, a tiered marble fountain cascades in soft ripples, the sound blending with the distant hum of classical music being played inside. Sculpted hedges and ornate lampposts frame the path leading to the grand staircase, where a set of gleaming double doors await beneath an opulent glass chandelier.Against the backdrop of the dark but starry night sky,
𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚It’s only been a little over an hour, yet I’m already exhausted and about ready to call it a night.So far, Marcos has spent the majority of the time introducing me to people—business associates and some family friends—all equally pretentious. I’ve smiled, nodded, and played along, enduring the faux interest in me and overly polite small talk, all while dreading the moment I’d inevitably have to meet his parents. The idea of facing them, and of being scrutinized by two of the most renowned figures in the medical world, had weighed on me the entire evening.Until I'd overheard a passing conversation, which I confirmed from Marcos himself. Apparently, his parents were out of the continent on a business assignment to Africa, which is the main reason for this dinner party since it doubles as a fund-raising event. A wave of relief had washed over me so fast I nearly sagged in place when I'd heard. There will be no awkward introductions. No icy stares. And since I'm only here f
𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚Once inside the bathroom, I turn to the mirror, peeling his jacket off my shoulders. And then I see it.My dress.The cream-colored silk fabric has turned sheer from the spilled drink, clinging to me in a way that leaves almost nothing to the imagination.Oh my God.I slap a hand over my mouth in shock and mortification. That explains why Marcos had looked at me like that. That’s why he'd reacted so quickly, covering me up before anyone else could see what he had.Heat flares up my neck, all the way to my ears as embarrassment fills me.Grimacing, I grab some paper towels, dabbing at the stain, but all I manage to do is make the fabric look even worse. “Seriously?” I mutter, feeling the sting of frustrated tears prick my eyes.Gone is the satisfaction from putting Meagan in her place. This night is officially a disaster.The bathroom door swings open, and I tense, instinctively stepping toward a stall to avoid any further scrutiny. But before I can slip inside, a voice st
𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚Tonight's shift is turning out to be a slow and uneventful one—just another night of playing melodies for an audience that barely pays attention. Which I'm really thankful for because after the whirlwind of events that's become my life lately, especially with the drama at the party over the weekend, I crave some silence and normalcy, in which I'm treated as the background noise and not the centre of attention when those three enigmatic men are around. No tension. No smouldering stares or teasing winks. I can only hope that this peace lasts all night, though. But, of course, the universe is always out to give me the opposite of what I want because a few minutes later, the front doors to The Gilded Stag are pushed open and in strides a familiar figure—the third man that makes up the trio of friends. Nathaniel Ford.Out of the three of them, Nathaniel is the only one who hasn't yet approached me or tried to talk to me. And while I would've concluded that it means that unli
His smirk is the first thing I notice—lazy, cruel and mocking. It’s the same smirk he always wore when he made my life hell. The same one he’d had before I finally escaped him. Escaped all of them.My pulse roars in my ears. How? Why? Of all the countries in Europe, of all the places in this city of London, what are the chances that he would visit Mayfair and walk into this particular restaurant at night when I'm on duty?I stiffen as he leans closer to his friends, muttering something while keeping his eyes locked on mine. Their laughter follows a moment later as two of them turn in my direction before letting out wolf whistles that have me flushing in embarrassment. I don’t even need to hear the words to know exactly what he said to them. I know Tyler.I grit my teeth and try to focus on the piano, but it proves to be impossible as I'm reminded of what he did to me and how I hadn't even known about it until I'd heard it from Stella that day. How he'd seen me naked, touched me and do
𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚The second I walk through our front door, Yemaya is on me, shoving her phone into my hands before I can even catch my breath. “Have you seen this?”My best friend's voice is tight with restrained fury, but it barely registers past the sinking weight in my chest. My fingers tremble as I take the phone from her and glance at the screen. And just like that, my stomach twists into a knot so tight I immediately feel sick.Stella.My heart sinks as I read the post she’s just put up earlier tonight. Yet another one of Stella's attempts to publicly humiliate me. The post is a masterpiece of cruelty —polished, strategic, and laced with the kind of venom only she can wield. Her words drip with malice, alongside carefully crafted insults masked as passive-aggressive remarks about the “company the Duke's heir keeps these days.” She'd dared to drag the Duke's family name into this but that's not what has my hands trembling as I grip harder onto the phone. It's what people have to say a
𝐀𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚Dinner at home later that night is a warm affair, filled with laughter, the clinking of utensils against our respective plates and the delectable aroma of my mother's home-cooked meal. Despite having more than enough servants to handle every task in the house, Mom always insists on preparing dinner for the family herself. She always says that nighttime is the only time we truly come together to dine as a family, and thus, she would never miss the chance to feed us all then. The effort, the warmth—it never fails to remind me that I'm part of a new family now. A family that truly cares for one another. It's the kind of comfort that wraps around me like a familiar embrace, something steady and grounding after the whirlwind of today's events.Dad sits at the head of the table, swirling a glass of red wine in his hand with a bottle of Château Lafite Rothschild wine beside him, which is quite a surprise compared to his usual glass of water, juice or cup of tea— while Mom busie
𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧I step into Elena—or rather, Aretha's path just as she tries to make a quick getaway from the room. The expression on her face pulls an amused smirk from me as I stop right in front of her, my stance completely calm and nonchalant as I shove both of my hands into my pants pocket, my gaze resting heavily on her. If she thinks I'm going to let her walk out of here just like that, without having her acknowledge my presence at least, then this gorgeous bird is sorely mistaken because I am not about to let her slip through my fingers again—the guys and I aren't about to let that repeat itself. Not when we've finally found her again after nearly two months of searching. I stare down at Aretha, taking in this woman that'd played her way into our lives like a haunting yet melodious tune, when in reality, she's a force to be reckoned with, a mystery. A woman who looks so dewy-eyed and delicate on the surface, but deep down within her, she hides an intricate web of secrets and
𝐀𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚I take a deep breath, steadying myself as I stand before the long, polished, marble conference table, my flash drive connected to the projector. The large screen behind me displays the opening slide and heading of my presentation: “Lancaster Luxe x GemsThorne: A Partnership of Timeless Elegance.”The room is silent, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning. Seated before me are the board members of Lancaster Luxe—men and women of influence, their sharp gazes fixed on me, assessing, waiting. They exude power, each one a formidable presence in their own right, yet none feel as intense as his.Cameron Lancaster.He sits at the head of the large table, his figure an embodiment of unshaken authority. Impeccably dressed in a charcoal-gray suit that seems molded to his tall, broad frame, his posture is deceptively relaxed with one hand resting against his chin and the other drumming lightly against the surface of the table. His expression is unreadable, and yet his eyes…
𝐀𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚My car rolls to a halt by the curb and after briefly thanking the driver, I step out, lifting my gaze to take in the skyscraper looming over me and every other passersby. The Lancaster Luxe headquarters is a towering, sleek high-rise building that gives off a modern yet old-money charm with its mirrored windows that reflect the morning sun combined with limestone accents. The building, as a whole, exudes a kind of influence that only generational wealth can command.I make my way toward the grand entrance, waving at the guards stationed there as I walk underneath the golden chandelier and through the automatic doors. The interior of the building is just as lavish and breathtaking as the exterior with their crystal chandeliers and the tiled marble floorings but I'm too preoccupied with my task here this morning to pay any attention to the decoration. Besides, if it all goes well today, I'll be seeing more of this in the nearest future.I step up to the receptionist counter
𝐀/𝐍: Selena's name has finally been changed to Aretha so from now on, her POVs will be tagged 𝐀𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐀𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚I make my way into our family dining room, only barely registering the warmth and light rays of the morning sun spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the front yard of our grand mansion. My mind is too preoccupied, my nerves strung tight like the familiar keys of a piano before a musical performance. Two weeks of thorough research, two long weeks of sleepless nights spent burning the midnight oil, and two whole weeks of meticulous planning have led to this very day, and to this moment—where my proposal pitch to the prestigious Lancaster Luxe will be taking place.Anxiety eats away at me when I'm reminded once again of how truly important today is. Today isn't simply about securing a partnership deal with a business empire as reputable as our family's. But it is also about proving myself, and reclaiming my rightful place. It's also about making a
𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚My mouth is still agape as Dad nods in response, his countenance completely serious. I vaguely hear Mom laugh softly from beside me before she cups my jaw and pushes it back up to close my mouth. I swallow hard, blinking repeatedly. “Y-You’re… serious, Dad? This isn't some kind of joke?” I ask, chuckling in disbelief as I glance from him to Mom and back again. Dad nods once more, giving me a small smile. “We are, princess. Deathly serious, in fact.”“But that would mean…” I trail off, the realization crashing over me like a tidal wave. My birth family aren't just rich—they’re the elite of the elite. They don't just exist within high society, they define it. Their reach extends across various industries from the finance industry to the mining one, which our jewels and jewelry division, GemsThorne, is largely a part of. And so, for me to be the head of that… it sounds very, very unbelievable. I swallow hard, my heart hammering in my chest. “It feels so surreal t-that you
𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚I've never been in Clive's home office since I began staying here but I should've expected that, just like the rest of the mansion, it'd be bathed in luxury as well.Dad's office space is as refined and commanding as the man himself—a room that demands attention without needing to ask for it. Different shades of the color brown dominate the large space, starting from the dark mahogany furniture, to the elevated floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that line the opposite wall and are brimming with leather-bound tomes, gleaming awards and neatly arranged artifacts, and finally, to the opened curtains flanking the massive windows overlooking the surrounding grasslands of the Hampstead Heath nearby.The warm glow of chandeliers catches on the gold accents which frame the room, making everything glimmer with subtle opulence. An expansive map, framed with gold, dominates the wall between the shelves that's behind his imposing wooden desk— acting as a silent testament to the vast reach
𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚On the third day of our transformatory spree, I wake up with a singular goal in mind and that's to erase every trace of my past still left. The weight of old names and old identities presses down on me like chains I’ve long outgrown. Today, I’m cutting them loose.Althea is already at the breakfast table when I step into the sunlit kitchen. She’s sipping on what I'm sure is her routine morning pick-me-up—chai tea, not coffee as the faint aromas of cinnamon, ginger and other spice blends curl into the air. Seated completely untouched on the dining table before her is a large platter that holds a classic, full English breakfast, consisting of some crispy bacon strips, blood sausages, baked beans, hash browns, a couple of fresh cherry tomatoes gotten from the greenhouse at the backyard of the mansion, black pudding, fried eggs with runny yolks, and sauteed mushrooms. A separate set of plates surround the platter, containing few slices of toasted sourdough bread, some porrid
𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚The late afternoon sun spills through the tinted car windows, casting muted golden rays across the dashboard while my gaze drifts over the countless shops and buildings we pass by, distractedly taking in the sights. A muffled tapping sound fills the silence in the car and I turn my head to face the only other person here with me. Althea is the one seated behind the wheel this time, after having decided to chauffeur us to our one and only destination for today. Her flawlessly manicured fingers drum idly against the leather as we cruise through the city. The scent of her signature perfume—a mixture of jasmine and something deeper and muskier—lingers in the air, blending with the faint smell of the leftover coffee im the cup holder between us.I look at her, noticing the slight curve of her lips, a tender, meaningful smile playing there as if she’d already been anticipating my nerves. “You’re more quiet than usual today, sweetie. A penny for your thoughts?” She remarks, fli