Haven

I have zero clue what my parents were thinking when they named me HAVEN. They claim I looked like a little piece of heaven dropped straight from the sky when I was a baby. Personally, I think it’s just a unique way to start a conversation, but I’ll take it. Right now, I’m vibrating in my seat. We are officially seniors. Fourth year college students! Just a few more weeks of grinding, a couple more dances with fate, and we are walking across that stage with those diplomas.

I looked over at Estelle, who was currently occupied with a bag of chips. It’s wild to think we’re finishing this journey together. She’s been my shadow, my rock, and my absolute best friend since we were toddlers. Our moms are best friends too, so our bond was basically written in the stars before we could even walk.

My family situation is a bit of a plot twist, though. I have a younger brother named Xenon. We have the same mom, but different dads. My biological father was a total waste of space. He was the kind of guy who chose a bottle over his own daughter every single night. Mom did the smartest thing ever by leaving that loser before they even got married. Honestly, if she hadn’t, I probably would have grown up and forced her to leave him myself.

Then came the man I actually call Papa. He’s Xenon’s dad, and he stepped up in a way my real father never could. He even fixed my papers so my last name would be Cross, just like theirs. It took me a long time to warm up to him because I didn’t know what a real father looked like. But he told me I could call him anything. Tito, big brother, whatever made me comfortable. He’s amazing. He works so hard so Mom can just focus on us, even though she’s more than capable of working too. I really lucked out with him.

A sudden, sharp smack against my desk jolted me so hard my heart nearly leaped out of my chest.

"Son of a bitch!"

The curse echoed through the lecture hall before I could bite it back. My face went hot as a dozen heads turned my way. I immediately flashed a guilty peace sign, offering a sheepish grin to the room. That’s just me. If you scare me, I’m going to swear. It’s a package deal.

"Staring into space again? You were miles away," Estelle teased, leaning in close with a smirk.

I rubbed my ear, trying to get my heart rate under control. "I lost track of time. You totally caught me off guard."

"Is it a requirement to look that gorgeous even when you’re swearing like a sailor?" Sebastian piped up from the seat next to us.

We all broke into a fit of giggles. Sebastian is one of those guys who just knows he’s pretty.

"Why do you feel the need to shout those words when you have such a pretty face?" Jasper chimed in, Sebastian’s brother.

"Your voice is actually giving me a headache," Sebastian snapped at his brother, reaching over to give his arm a hard pinch.

"Ow! Watch the designer gear!" Jasper yelped.

I just shook my head, laughing at them. We met Valerius Blackwood and Sebastian Blackwood last year. They’re the campus royalty, always arriving in expensive cars with private drivers, but underneath the "it-boy" status, they’re just chaotic brothers. We’ve been a solid four-person squad ever since we ended up in the same classes. Estelle is still like a sister to me, even if I am technically two months older.

"Anyway, guys, my birthday is next week. You’re all invited. Your favorite mayor is throwing a massive party," Sebastian announced, throwing his arms out wide.

We cheered and clapped, the excitement in the room instantly doubling.

"A party? Have you even pitched this to our older brother?" Jasper asked, his tone skeptical. "Remember last year? He shut you down so fast it was embarrassing. What makes you think this year is any different?"

Sebastian’s smile faltered into a dramatic, high-fashion pout. He crossed his arms over his chest and slumped.

"You really need to convince him, Bas," Estelle said, crunching on another chip. "We’ve been dying to see your house. You keep us locked out like it’s a secret fortress."

The professor hadn't arrived for the next block yet, so the room was a chaotic mess of students gossiping and laughing. It’s the start of the semester, but the workload is already starting to pile up. I looked at the clock, feeling that familiar itch of restlessness.

"Uhm, excuse me?"

A soft knock at the door dragged our attention away from the birthday drama. A guy stood there, shifting his weight from one foot to the other like he was about to face a firing squad.

"Ah, yes! Are you looking for me? Finally, a fan!" Sebastian joked, leaning back and fluttering his eyelashes at the poor messenger.

Jasper didn't even hesitate. He slapped the back of Sebastian’s head with a meaty thud. "Ignore him. Can we help you with something?"

One of our classmates by the door chimed in too, trying to look helpful, but I caught Sebastian giving her the most hilarious, petty side-eye. I swear, these two are going to be the death of me.

"Someone asked me to give this to Ms. Cross," the guy said.

He reached behind his back and pulled out a grease-stained bag that smelled like absolute heaven. McDonald's. My soul practically left my body.

The entire room erupted into whistles and catcalls. "Oh my god, Haven! Another one?" Kia shouted from across the room. "Your secret admirer has been at this for years. Why won't he just show his face already?"

I felt the heat rush to my cheeks as I stood up, my legs feeling a little like jelly.

"Go on, girl! Get your goods!" Sebastian nudged me, practically shoving me toward the door.

"Get the bag! Get the bag! Get the bag!" the class started chanting in unison.

I rolled my eyes at them, though a smile was tugging at my lips. I walked over to the guy, feeling the weight of everyone’s stares on my back.

"I know you won't tell me who he is," I said, taking the warm bag from him. "But tell him he needs to stop. Or, if he’s really that determined, tell him to bring it himself next time. This is getting embarrassing. But anyway, thank him for me."

The messenger just nodded. "Got it."

He didn't waste a second before disappearing down the hallway. I turned back to the room, the scent of fries acting like a siren song.

"Sharing is caring, people! Dig in!" I announced, holding the bag out.

I’m not the type to hoard a feast while everyone else is hungry. Within seconds, my classmates were swarming like piranhas.

"Haven’t wouldn't be Haven without her daily delivery," Matt laughed, grabbing a handful of fries. She’s been in our circle forever, and she knows the drill.

"Seriously though," Joseph added, leaning against a desk. "We’ve been in the same classes for years, and this guy is still a ghost. Don't you have any clue who it is?"

I popped a fry into my mouth, the salt hitting just right. "Honestly? Not a single lead. It’s been going on since junior high, and he still hasn't made a move."

It’s the truth. My bedroom back home is basically a museum of this guy's affection. Dresses, hoodies, expensive shoes, and teddy bears so big they take up half my bed. I use the bears as backrests while I study.

My parents are just as curious as I am. They’ve actually given me the green light to have a boyfriend, which is hilarious because I’m the one holding back. Papa keeps telling me that as soon as the mystery man shows up, I have to bring him home immediately.

But the truth is, I’ve got a bit of a sharp tongue and a short fuse. I judge guys way too fast. Like that jerk who bumped into me yesterday and didn't even say sorry? Please. Why should I apologize if he won’t? My attitude is a bit of a mess, probably a gift from my biological father. I’ve been swearing since I was a kid, and no matter how many times Mom swatted my lips, the words just kept flying.

Who would actually want to date a girl who cussess like a sailor and has a temper like a firecracker?

The day wound down with the usual mix of chaos and laughter. As the sun started to dip, we began packing our bags.

"Girls! We’re heading out. Stay safe, okay?" Sebastian called out, leaning in to give us both a quick air-kiss on the cheek.

"See you tomorrow! Don't get into too much trouble!" Estelle shouted back.

I was zipping up my bag when my phone started vibrating against the wooden desk. An unknown number.

"Hello?" I answered, tucking the phone against my ear.

"Good afternoon. Is this Haven Cross?"

The voice on the other end was deep, smooth, and completely unfamiliar. It sent a strange little shiver down my spine.

"Speaking," I replied, my pulse picking up speed for no reason at all. "Who is this?"

"You will know when you meet me," the voice on the line purred, smooth as expensive whiskey. "So, can you meet me now? I know your classes just finished."

I froze, the hair on my arms standing up. How did he know my schedule?

"I don't meet strangers," I snapped, my jolly mood souring instantly. I gripped my phone tighter. "Who even are you?"

"My secretary arrived a while ago. He is there to pick you up."

My heart did a violent thud against my ribs. Fear, sharp and cold, spiked through my chest. "I’m not going anywhere with him! You’re being way too pushy, mister. I said no, and I don’t even know you!"

I didn’t care if the few students left in the room were staring. My voice was rising, fueled by a mix of adrenaline and pure annoyance.

"Miss Haven Cross, I’m begging you to meet me today," he said, though he didn't sound like he was begging at all. He sounded like he was issuing a command. "I’ve been waiting for your day to end because we have something vital to discuss."

"Is it more important than my sleep?" I shot back, leaning into my sass to hide the fact that my knees were shaking. "I'm exhausted. It’s the first day of the semester, so do me a favor and stop annoying me."

"Then let's meet tomorrow. Or the next day. Anytime you are free."

I groaned, rubbing my temple. This guy was like a persistent stain. "What do you even want? You're obsessed! I said I don’t want to! I don’t! Do I need to say it in another language? I. Do. Not. Want. To. Okay? Goodby—"

"My secretary and the guards I ordered to fetch you will not leave until you meet me," he interrupted.

My jaw dropped. I clenched my free hand into a fist, my nails biting into my palm. "Then they can rot there for all I care! Screw you!"

I slammed the end call button and exhaled a breath that tasted like fire.

"You're seeing red again," Estelle said, watching me with wide eyes. "Who was that? You look like you’re about to breathe smoke out of your nose."

I chewed on my lip, my mind racing. "Some freak who won't take no for an answer. He wants to meet about something, but for all I know, he’s a kidnapper or a serial killer."

"Come on, ride with me," Estelle suggested, grabbing her bag. "I’m not letting you walk home alone if some creep is stalking you."

I wanted to say yes immediately, but then I remembered his threat. "I don't think we can just walk out. He said he has guards and a secretary waiting at the exit."

"Watch me," she said, her voice firm.

We stepped out of the building and crept toward the campus gates. My breath hitched. Stationed right by the main exit were five men in crisp black uniforms, earplugs tucked into their ears, looking like they stepped straight out of a high-security detail.

"Oh my god," I whispered, ducking behind a pillar. "There are so many of them."

"Should we just talk to them? Tell them to go away?" Estelle hissed.

"What if they just grab me and throw me in a car?" My imagination was running wild, picturing myself in some dark basement.

Then, I spotted a familiar pair walking toward the parking lot. Professor Salazar and Professor Ironwood. A lightbulb went off in my head.

"Follow my lead," I whispered, grabbing Estelle’s hand.

"Where are we going?"

"We’re hitching a ride with the faculty!"

I didn't give her a choice. I hauled her toward the professors.

"Oh, Ms. Cross, Ms. Valeriane! Still here?" Professor Ironwood asked, looking surprised.

I flashed my brightest, most innocent smile, though I kept shooting furtive glances at the men in black. "Heading home, Professor? You guys stay safe on the road! See you!"

I didn't even wait for a reply. I used their presence as a human shield, shielding us from the guards' line of sight as we sprinted toward Estelle’s waiting car. In my frantic dash, I slammed hard into someone’s shoulder.

A guy in a dark hoodie stumbled, and his phone hit the pavement with a sickening crack.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry!" I gasped, pausing for a split second.

"It's okay," the guy said. His voice was low, and he didn't even look up as he reached for the phone.

Guilt twisted in my stomach, but my pulse was screaming at me to move. I scrambled into the backseat of Estelle’s car just as the engine roared to life.

"Hi, Mr. Delfin!" Estelle chirped to her driver, Delfin.

"Why are you two so out of breath?" he asked, chuckling as he pulled out of the driveway.

"Just... playing tag!" I lied, my chest heaving.

As we sped away, I looked out the back window. The guards were standing there, watching our car disappear into the traffic. I finally let out the breath I’d been holding, but my hands wouldn't stop shaking.

Who the hell was that man? How did he get my private number? I keep that thing locked down specifically to avoid creeps and prank callers. If I find out which of my "friends" leaked it, they’re dead.

My mind drifted back to the guy I bumped into. I felt like trash for breaking his phone, but panic does weird things to your brain. I’ll probably never see him again to make it right, and I definitely don't have the cash to fix a screen.

The whole situation was a mess. It was only Monday, and I already felt like I was being hunted. He sounded like a boss, someone used to getting exactly what he wanted. Well, he picked the wrong girl to bully. If he tries this again tomorrow, I'm going to give him a piece of my mind that he’ll never forget.

"You okay?" Estelle asked, resting a hand on my arm.

"I'm fine," I said, though I was still vibrating with leftover adrenaline. "Just annoyed. I hate it when people think they can buy my time."

But deep down, a tiny, annoying part of me was curious. What could be so "important" that it required a small army to deliver the message?

Jace

I wasn’t in the office. I wasn’t at the estate, either. I was standing in Scarlett’s penthouse, nursing a glass of vintage red. I hadn’t warned her I was coming. I wanted to surprise her since we’d missed each other this morning, and besides, I had the passcode. I always had the passcode.

The condo was silent, bathed in the muted, relaxing tones Scarlett loved. She had a gift for design, a way of making every corner feel intentional and creative. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass, watching the city sprawl beneath me, and thought about the phone call.

That girl. Haven.

She was loud. Explosive. The kind of woman who spoke as if she were perpetually in the middle of a street fight. I’d tried to be reasonable, kept my tone measured and calm, but she had snapped at me like a cornered cat. We weren't going to get along. I knew that much already.

But I didn’t have the luxury of choice.

She was the one. Killian’s plan was already in motion, and Haven was the centerpiece. I needed to brief Scarlett on the details, something I’d failed to do last night because she’d fallen asleep waiting for me.

I set my wine glass on the table and sat on the balcony, pulling my iPad toward me. I pulled up the background check my secretary, Winston, had finalized.

Haven Cross. Twenty years old. She had a younger brother, Xenon, a product of her mother’s second marriage. A step-sister. She was currently enrolled at the same university as my siblings. It was a disgustingly small world. There was no way they didn't know her, or at least of her.

The problem was Haven had no idea who I was. Or maybe she did. We’d collided yesterday, quite literally, in front of my building. She hadn't even apologized. If Winston couldn't bring her to the table, I’d have to use a different kind of pressure. Not physical force, but the kind of persuasion only a billionaire can offer. Everyone has a price. She just didn't know hers yet.

I couldn't just walk out and find her myself. My life was a series of calculated risks. Someone wanted me dead, a fact that kept Scarlett in the shadows. She refused to go public, terrified that being seen with me would put a target on her back.

"I’ll keep you safe," I’d told her a dozen times. "No one touches what belongs to me."

That was why I was surrounded by a small army. Some in uniform, some blending into the crowds with earpieces hidden by hair or hoodies. One wrong move, one lapse in security, and it would be the end of the line.

The door chimes signaled an arrival.

"Oh my... Jace?"

Scarlett stood there, her eyes widening in surprise. I stood up, leaving the iPad on the chair, and walked toward her. She stepped into my arms, a warm, familiar weight.

"I'm happy to see you, baby," I murmured into her hair.

We pulled back just enough to look at each other. She reached up, smoothing a stray lock of hair from my forehead, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Am I not allowed to see my girl?"

We both laughed, the tension in my shoulders easing for a split second. "I came to see you and to talk. We have things to discuss."

Scarlett reached for the pack of cigarettes on the table, lit one, and pressed it to my lips. I took a long drag, the smoke burning beautifully in my lungs, before exhaling into the cool balcony air.

"You don't want to get married, right? Not even to me?" I asked, watching her closely.

She nodded, her expression turning serious.

"Killian suggested a workaround. A fake wife. A fake fiancée. My grandfather is breathing down my neck to introduce someone, and I need to satisfy him before he starts picking candidates for me. Do you agree with the plan?"

Scarlett took the cigarette back, inhaling deeply. She let the smoke curl out of her mouth before answering. "Find a woman who can actually play the part first."

"I found her," I said. "She fits the profile, but her attitude is... problematic."

"Why? Did you check her background?"

"It’s all there," I gestured to the chair. "See for yourself."

Scarlett picked up the iPad, scrolling through Haven’s profile while I took the cigarette back.

"Mmm... interesting," Scarlett mused, her eyes darting over the photos. "She’s beautiful, Jace. I’m almost worried you might actually fall for her."

I let out a harsh, dry laugh. "She’s pretty, sure. But she’s the opposite of everything I like. She’s loud, rude, and has a mouth like a sailor. She’ll drive me crazy within an hour."

"You’ve met her?" Scarlett looked up, confused.

"By accident. Yesterday. We bumped into each other, and she didn't even have the grace to say sorry. Believe me, we won't be falling in love."

Scarlett stood up, set the device down, and wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her body flush against mine. "If you can actually convince this girl to do it, let me meet her."

I cupped her face, my thumb brushing over her cheekbone. "Is my baby afraid of losing me?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Scarlett’s voice was raw, stripped of its usual playfulness. "I can't let some girl take you away from me, Jace. Even if we aren't married, even if we aren't engaged... be mine. Only mine."

I smiled, pulling her closer until there was no air left between us.

"You don't even have to ask," I promised, my voice a low growl against her skin. "It’s only you. Always only you, Scarlett Saint."

I pulled Scarlett back into my arms and kissed her, deep and lingering. It was a silent promise. Despite the sea of women who threw themselves at my feet for the sake of the family name, I never felt the pull. My heart was fixed. It belonged to the woman currently tucked into the crook of my neck.

Scarlett’s parents were currently overseas. While the rest of her family had relocated to the country to expand the business empire, they stayed behind. I felt a surge of pride whenever she spoke about her work. She wasn't just here for the profit; she wanted to build something that mattered, to help the economy grow.

I was the lucky one. I wanted to scream it from the rooftops, but the world I lived in demanded silence.

My only hope now was my mother. I needed her to snap out of the fog she was living in. Once she was stable, I could finally bring Scarlett home to meet the family. But for now, the world would have to settle for a different face. I had to break Haven Cross. I needed her signature on a contract before the week was up.

Next week was Sebastian’s birthday. I couldn't risk the fallout if the truth came out during a high-profile event. Only the inner circle—Killian, Scarlett, and my immediate family—could know that the engagement was a sham.

The problem was, Haven was a fortress. She was loud, stubborn, and completely unimpressed by my authority. I rubbed my temples, wondering if I’d have to risk my own neck and meet her in person. Every time I stepped out without a full detail, I was inviting a bullet, but Winston hadn't called yet.

What was taking them so long? I already had a read on Haven. She wasn't going to be bought with a few nice words and a meal.

...

The drive home from the office felt longer than usual. I’d promised Grandpa a family dinner, and I wasn't about to break it. Mrs. Yvette was already prepping the table, so I knew I’d make it just as the food hit the plates.

Earlier that afternoon, Winston had crawled into my office looking like he’d seen a ghost. Haven had escaped.

How does a twenty-year-old college girl slip through the fingers of five professional bodyguards? I’d told them to memorize her face, to stay on her like a second skin. She was slippery, I’ll give her that. But I don't lose. I would have her as my fake wife if it was the last thing I did.

Grandpa’s demand for a fiancée was sudden, but not unexpected. I couldn't give him the grandchildren he craved—not yet, and certainly not with Scarlett hidden away—but a wife might keep him satisfied for a while.

As I pulled into the driveway, I scanned the windows. My mother’s car wasn't there. She was out at the gambling dens again. We’d tried everything to break her of the habit, but the addiction had its claws in her too deep.

We were reaching a breaking point. I’d already discussed it with my siblings. If she went too far again, if she put the family at risk one more time, we’d have to commit her. It was a conversation that left a bitter taste in my mouth, but Grandpa had given me the green light. I had guards trailing her 24/7, not just for her safety, but to document the decline.

I missed the woman she used to be. I needed my father to help her, but he was gone, and she refused to move on. Sebastian and Jasper deserved a mother, not a ghost who lived for the thrill of the cards. I’d raised them since Sebastian was a baby, and while they were men now, I still saw the hunger for a mother’s touch in their eyes.

I stepped out of the car and headed straight for the dining room.

"Good evening, Jace," Jasper and Sebastian said in unison.

I walked over and kissed them each on the top of the head, a silent acknowledgment of the bond we shared. Then I moved to Grandpa, taking his hand in the traditional gesture of respect.

"Sit, son," he said, his voice gravelly but kind. "Eat so you can rest."

I nodded, feeling a strange tightness in my chest as I filled my plate.

"By the way, Jace," Sebastian said, his voice a little too bright. "I was talking to Grandpa earlier about my birthday. He said I could finally have a real party this year!"

I dropped my fork. It hit the porcelain with a sharp ring. I leveled a glare at my younger brother.

"I told you no parties, Sebastian. Why are you being so hard-headed? Did you corner Grandpa when he was tired?"

"No, no," Grandpa interrupted, waving a hand. "He didn't force me. I realized he missed out last year. Let him have this, Jace. Let your brother be happy for once."

I caught Sebastian shooting me a smug, knowing look from across the table. The little brat knew exactly what he was doing.

"Since it sounds like the party is a go," Jasper chimed in, his voice trailing off into that dangerous territory he loved to roam. "Why don’t you bring your fiancée to the celebration, Jace? It’s about time we met her in person, right?"

A piece of steak caught in my throat. I coughed harshly, my face heating up as I reached for my water. "What?"

Grandpa hummed, slowly chewing a mouthful of greens. He looked between us, a small, thoughtful nod following. "That is actually an excellent idea, Jasper. Yes, Jace. Bring her to Sebastian’s birthday. It’s the perfect setting for a formal introduction."

I was dead. I was absolutely, Royally screwed.

I’d spent the last hour meticulously planning how to keep this fake engagement under wraps, and in ten seconds, my brothers had blown the doors off the hinges. I searched my mind for an excuse, a delay, anything to keep the charade from crumbling before it even started.

"Come on, Jace," Jasper pushed, his grin widening. "We really want to see her. I’m sure she’s stunning."

I sat in a heavy silence for a heartbeat too long. The weight of Grandpa’s expectant gaze was a physical pressure against my chest.

"Fine," I bit out, the word feeling like lead on my tongue. "I’ll bring her to the party."

My brothers let out a unified cheer, slamming their palms against the table in a victory high-five.

"We’re holding you to that," Sebastian warned, his eyes narrowing playfully. "No backing out at the last second. No excuses."

Grandpa let out a deep, rumbling laugh. "You boys," he sighed, shaking his head with a fond smile. "I’m genuinely looking forward to meeting her, Jace. It’s been far too long."

I forced my lips to curve into a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "She’s... she’s excited to meet you too."

Lying to him felt like a serrated blade across my conscience.

As the dinner continued, the conversation shifted to logistics and music, but I was miles away. I was trapped. I hadn't even convinced Haven to speak to me without screaming, and now I had to parade her in front of my entire family as the woman I intended to marry.

I had to move fast. Today was Monday. I’d give her a day of peace, then I’d hit her with an offer she couldn't refuse. She just had to play the part. She had to be the perfect, doting wife until Scarlett felt safe enough to step into the light.

Then I’d cut Haven loose and erase her from my life forever.

I looked at Grandpa. His joy was the only thing keeping me from losing my mind. I’d promised him I would do whatever it took to keep that smile on his face. He’d lost so much. We all had.

Every time I looked at him, I saw the ghost of the woman he loved. I took him to the cemetery often so he could talk to Grandma, and while we were there, we always stopped at the grave that still felt like an open wound.

Augustus Reed Blackwood. My father.

The memory of his death was a jagged, raw thing that lived in the back of my mind. He’d been five minutes late for work because his car was in the shop. He’d taken the bus, staying calm, staying professional.

Then the brakes failed.

The driver was drunk. The impact had been catastrophic. People were thrown like ragdolls, but my father... he had the worst of it. A metal rod, jagged and broken from the frame of the bus, had pierced through the seat and through his skull.

I was the only one who saw him at the morgue. I made sure Jasper and Sebastian stayed back. I couldn't let them carry that image for the rest of their lives. I remember the white sheet, the sickening length of the iron still protruding from him. The doctor told me the depth of the wound was incredible. He didn't stand a chance.

Of all the people in the world, why him? Why something so grisly?

The pain surged through me now, fresh and biting, right there at the dinner table. I gripped my napkin, my knuckles turning white, as the laughter of my brothers echoed around me. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. Instead, I took a sip of wine and swallowed the grief, burying it deep where it couldn't ruin the only happy moment my family had left.

Haven

I woke up with a massive grin on my face because, honestly, why wouldn't I? The sun was streaming through my window like a personal spotlight, and if the day was going to be this gorgeous, I had to make sure I looked even better. Being pretty is a full-time job, and I never take a day off.

I hopped out of bed, feeling the hum of the house. Downstairs, the smell of coffee and fried rice was already drifting up. It was one of those rare mornings where we could all actually sit down together before my dad headed out to the shops. He runs two small automotive supply stores—greasy, metallic places full of spare parts and engine oil. It’s honest work, even if some months are a total struggle.

I know how lucky I am to be at the university. My parents worked their fingers to the bone, secretly hoarding every cent for my tuition while I thought we were just barely scraping by. Between the business fluctuations and my little brother Xenon’s asthma, money is always tight. We keep Xenon inside most of the time—the city air is just too thick with exhaust for his lungs to handle.

I’ve offered to get a part-time job a dozen times, but Dad just gives me that look. He wants me focused. He wants that degree in my hand. So, for now, I carry the weight of their sacrifices with a smile and a lot of determination.

"Ate! Mom says breakfast is ready!"

Xenon’s voice through the door startled a laugh out of me. "Okay, okay! I’m coming down!"

I grabbed my bag, checked my lip gloss one last time, and headed for the kitchen. My mom was already fluttering around the table, and my dad, Oliver, was buried behind a newspaper, his coffee steaming beside him.

"Eat up, sweetheart," Mom said, sliding a plate in front of me.

"Morning, Dad," I chirped, kissing his cheek. He offered a warm, tired smile before turning back to the news.

"By the way, Oliver," Mom said, leaning against the counter. "I’m going to help Marie with her laundry today. She’s so far along in her pregnancy, and it’s just her and her husband in that house. She needs the hand."

Dad looked up, brow furrowed. "Are you sure? You’ve already got enough on your plate here."

Mom waved him off with a smirk. "Oh, please. It’s her first baby. Besides, I like the gossip."

A sharp knock at the door interrupted them.

"I’ll get it!" I jumped up and stood by the door, leaning my weight against it. "Password first!" I teased.

A muffled, playful voice came from the other side. "Estelle is the most beautiful girl in the world."

I laughed and swung the door open. "Close enough. Get in here, you brat."

Estelle slid inside, adjusting her glasses and grinning through her braces. We’ve been inseparable since kindergarten—literally. Teachers tried to split us up once by putting us in different sections, but we made such a fuss they gave up. People call her a nerd, but she’s the smartest person I know. And if anyone talks trash about her, they have to go through me. I’m nice until I’m not, and I’ve got a mean streak that keeps the bullies at bay.

"Good morning, Auntie! Morning, Uncle!" Estelle greeted my parents, settling into the chair next to mine.

"You're just in time," Mom said, but then her eyes widened as she looked at Xenon’s plate. "Oh! Xenon, wait! There’s shrimp in that. I forgot your allergy! That was supposed to be for Haven. Swap plates, you two."

I quickly traded my plate for my brother's. My mom always calls me "Ate," the older sister, even when she’s talking to me like a child. It’s sweet, in a chaotic sort of way.

Estelle didn't even wait for an invite. She reached over and snatched a shrimp right off my new plate.

"Hey! You have your own food!" I complained, swiping at her hand.

"What’s yours is mine, babe," she whispered, leaning in closer so my parents couldn't hear. Her tone shifted, becoming sharp and low. "So, are you going to tell them what happened yesterday? Or are we keeping that little disaster a secret?"

My heart stuttered for a second. I glanced at my dad, who was still hovering over his paper. "No way," I hissed back. "They’ll freak out. I can handle it myself."

"Handle what?"

We both froze. My dad had dropped the newspaper and was staring directly at us, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

I forced a bright, totally fake smile. Estelle beat me to the punch, her voice a little too loud.

"Oh, you know... just talking about Haven’s secret admirer! He sent her some... uh... very intense gifts yesterday. We were just Gossiping!"

I pinched Estelle’s arm under the table, hard enough to leave a mark. She let out a muffled squeak, her mouth full of rice.

"Is he still hiding in the shadows?" Mom asked, leaning in with a playful glint in her eyes. "I’m dying to meet this guy. He’s been sending you things for years, Haven. It’s clear he’s head over heels for you."

My heart did a little somersault. I tried to play it cool, but the heat was climbing up my neck. "Oh, stop it, Mom! You’re being ridiculous."

"Haven, watch your tone," Dad cautioned, though his eyes were kind.

"She’s been even more colorful lately, Uncle," Estelle chimed in, finally swallowing. "Yesterday she actually said—"

I didn't let her finish. I grabbed a large, peeled shrimp and shoved it straight into her mouth. "Eat your breakfast, Estelle."

Dad sighed, setting his coffee down. "A lady shouldn't have such a sharp tongue, Haven."

"She didn't get that from us, Oliver," Mom said softly, her voice losing its playfulness. "You can’t blame the girl for the habits she picked up from... before."

The air in the room shifted instantly. The mention of my biological father was like a cold draft under the door. We never talked about him—not at breakfast, not ever. He was the one who taught me my first curses. I remember being a little girl, accidentally letting a word slip during a game, and feeling the sting of Mom’s hand across my mouth.

I’ve tried to stop. Truly. But when I’m startled or angry, the words just slide out like they’re hardwired into my brain. He was a bad influence in every sense of the word. I still have flashes of memory—vivid, ugly scenes of him hurting Mom. The bruises he left on her skin were nothing compared to the ones he left on her spirit. Even without a drop of alcohol in him, he was a monster.

I hate him. I don’t care if we share the same blood; he isn't my father. My real dad is sitting right across from me, the man who took me in, spoiled me when he had an extra dollar, and told me I could be whoever I wanted to be.

...

The drive to campus was tense. I didn't want to commute today. My mind was stuck on the incident from yesterday—those men, the way they watched me. I didn't say a word to my parents because they already have enough to worry about. I can handle myself. I have to.

"Are you still thinking about that guy who wants to talk to you?" Estelle asked, breaking the silence. "The one you have no clue about?"

"I'm just curious," I lied, looking out the window. "And honestly? A little annoyed. This secret admirer thing has been going on for years. Is he ever going to show his face, or is he just going to keep playing mystery man until we’re eighty?"

I’ve never had a real crush. Not in elementary, not in high school. Estelle knows everything about me—we’ve shared secrets, clothes, and practically our entire lives. Even she’s stumped. Most guys stay away because I’m "difficult" or "moody." Mom says I got my attitude from my first father, but I like to think I just got her beauty and a spine made of steel.

When we pulled into the university lot, I didn't move.

"Why are you still in the car?" Estelle teased. "I thought you weren't afraid of anything."

I waited a few beats, scanning the crowd of students. "Are they out there?" I whispered.

"Wait, my shoe is untied," Estelle said, hopping out and kneeling by the door.

I took a deep breath and stepped out, walking toward the main building. I was so busy looking over my shoulder for thugs that I didn't see the person right in front of me.

Thump.

I slammed into a broad chest.

"Miss Haven Cross?"

The voice was smooth, like expensive bourbon. I didn't look up at first, my breath hitching in my throat.

"Yes...?" I managed to choke out.

"Can I have a minute of your time?"

I slowly lifted my gaze, and my heart stopped. He wasn't a student. He was older, wearing a sharp, tailored office suit that cost more than my tuition. He was breathtakingly handsome, but as my eyes moved past him, I saw the men standing behind him.

The same men from yesterday.

My blood turned to ice. "About what?" I asked, my voice trembling.

The man stepped closer, his scent—sandalwood and power—filling my senses.

"Wait! Please, just wait!"

The man took a step forward, his palms open in a gesture of peace. Up close, his skin was flawless, and he smelled like expensive laundry soap and power. "Don’t be scared. We aren't here to hurt you. I just need you to come with me. My boss is very insistent on meeting you. If you have classes now, we can wait. We’ll pick you up the moment you’re finished."

He was calm, almost soothing, but my heart was drumming a frantic beat against my ribs. I looked past his tailored shoulder at the two men standing behind him. They were built like brick walls, faces set in stone, looming like shadows in the morning sun.

"Look," I said, my voice wavering despite my best efforts to sound tough. "You’re handsome, and you seem polite, but no. Absolutely not. If your boss wants to talk to me so badly, he can show his face here. I’m not just getting into a car with strangers."

The man’s expression didn't flicker. "I understand your concern, Miss Cross, but my boss cannot meet you in public. I can’t explain why, but I give you my word that you will be safe."

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. "Is he some kind of VIP? Too good to step onto a college campus? My gut is telling me this is a bad idea. I don't care how nice your suit is, the answer is no."

Estelle nudged me hard, her eyes wide behind her glasses. "Haven, look at him," she whispered, leaning into my ear. "He’s gorgeous. He’s professional. He smells like a literal angel. Maybe it’s fine?"

I pinched her arm, making her hiss. "Are you crazy? I don't care if he’s a supermodel. I don't know him. There are plenty of good-looking guys in the world who are still dangerous."

The man in the suit sighed, his gaze softening into something like a plea. He actually had puppy-dog eyes. It was devastating. "Miss Haven Cross, I am begging you. This is a matter of extreme importance. He needs you. We won't leave until you agree to come, and I’m afraid we won't stop following this lead until you do."

The persistence was starting to freak me out. "No! No, no, no! I said no! Do whatever you want, stay here all day if you like, but I'm not going anywhere with you!"

I grabbed Estelle’s hand and bolted toward the campus gates, my heels clicking rapidly on the pavement. I didn't dare look back.

"You almost folded back there," Estelle teased, breathless as we reached the safety of the main hall. "I saw your face. You were totally checking him out."

"Okay, fine, he was hot," I admitted, trying to shake off the chill running down my spine. "But something feels wrong. If this were just about a conversation, why the bodyguards? Why the secret location? It’s not exactly a great start to a friendship."

My mind was spinning at a hundred miles an hour. Who the hell is this boss? I’m a college student. I spend my time studying, hanging out with Estelle, and dodging my past. I haven't done anything illegal lately. Well, nothing serious enough to warrant a private security detail and a personal invitation from a mystery man.

I started to spiral. What if he’s part of a syndicate? What if my biological father owes someone money? Or worse, what if they’re going to kidnap me and my family will be left wondering where I went?

I’m smart, but I’m also an overthinker. The more I thought about that man’s calm, steady gaze, the more I felt like I was being hunted. If they think they can just show up with a pretty face and some muscle to buy my time, they have another thing coming.

I’m Haven Cross. If this "boss" wants me, he’s going to have to do a lot better than sending a messenger. He wants a piece of me? He better be ready for the fire that comes with it.