Chapter 1
1304 Words
(Arabella's POV)
The city glitters beneath me like a lie dressed in diamonds.
Aurelia never sleeps—its skyline hums with the arrogance of power, its glass towers slicing the clouds like they own the sky. From the penthouse balcony of Kingston Manor, the wind tastes of salt and money. Everything here is cold, curated, perfect.
Everything except me.
I lean against the rail, a barely–there silk robe slipping off my shoulder, exposing skin that still smells like last night’s perfume and sin. My phone buzzes with messages—half from men I don’t remember, the other half from women I shouldn’t have touched. I swipe them away.
Nothing they offer fills the void.
Nothing ever does.
Aurelia City looks beautiful from up here, almost holy, but I know the truth: beneath the sparkling skyline lies The Den, the neon-lit underworld where I spend my nights drowning myself in bodies, alcohol, music that vibrates inside my ribs until I forget who I am.
Or who I’m supposed to be.
A Kingston.
An heiress.
The daughter of Marcus and Evelyn Kingston—the closest thing Aurelia has to royalty.
I snort. Royalty, my ass.
A soft chime rings from inside the manor. That means they’re awake. My parents. And they’re expecting me.
Perfect.
I tie the robe at my waist, even though I know it won’t hide the hickey on my collarbone or the exhaustion etched around my eyes. Kingston Manor is a palace of glass and marble, but it’s also a cage—a silent museum where emotions rust and die.
Walking through the hallway feels like entering a boardroom. Always.
The dining room is absurdly large for three people, with an ocean view so beautiful it makes me angry. My mother, Evelyn, sits upright at the head of the table, an untouched cup of herbal tea steaming next to her. She looks like a winter queen carved from crystal—elegant, distant, perfect.
My father, Marcus, reads data on a hologram screen hovering above the table. Even at breakfast, he’s CEO first, father second.
Or maybe tenth.
Evelyn’s eyes skim over me—my robe, my bare legs, the marks on my skin. Her lips press into a line.
Marcus doesn’t look up. “You came home at five in the morning again.”
“I didn’t realize there was a curfew,” I say, pouring myself orange juice like we’re having a normal family breakfast.
“There isn’t,” Evelyn replies sharply, “but there should be. Your behavior is a problem, Arabella.”
My behavior. Always my behavior. Never my feelings. Never my why.
“You look exhausted,” she adds. “Are you… sober?”
I roll my eyes. “Calm down, Mother. I’m not high.”
“But you’re hungover,” she states. “Again.”
Marcus finally lifts his gaze from the projection. “Arabella, sit.”
The way he says it, low and commanding, makes something cold slither down my spine. Meetings with my father are never… gentle.
I sit. Mostly because resisting him is pointless.
He swipes the hologram off and steeples his fingers. “Kingston Tech is facing a reputation crisis.”
Of course it is. Everything in this house is about image. Optics. Investors. What the board thinks.
“What does that have to do with me?” I ask sweetly, though I already know the answer.
Evelyn levels a frigid stare at me. “Do you need us to list the scandals?”
A tired laugh escapes me. “Actually, yeah. Let’s make it fun. Start from the beginning.”
Marcus ignores my sarcasm. “The tabloids have footage of you leaving The Den with four men last week.”
“Three,” I correct. “One was just the DJ.”
“Arabella,” Evelyn snaps, “this isn’t funny.”
“No, it’s pathetic,” I mutter, pushing my hair back. “You two are more worried about the company than your daughter.”
“We are worried about both,” my father says, and for a brief second, his tone softens. “But you’re spiraling. And the world is watching.”
Ah. There it is. The real problem.
Not my pain. Not my addictions.
The world is watching.
“When the investors see you like this,” Evelyn says, “they doubt whether the Kingston legacy has a future. Whether you have a future in it.”
I feel a sharp sting in my chest. So that’s what this breakfast is.
An intervention wrapped in judgment.
“So what?” I challenge. “You want me to quit my life and become some robotic heiress who smiles at charity galas and marries whatever billionaire boy you pick?”
Marcus and Evelyn exchange a very loaded glance.
I freeze. “No. Absolutely not. Don’t even say it.”
“It’s necessary,” Evelyn says calmly, as if she’s discussing a business merger. “A marriage would stabilize our image. Investors want security, and right now you are the opposite of that.”
“You can’t be serious.”
Marcus looks me dead in the eye. “You will get engaged before the Christmas Summer Gala.”
My heart plummets.
“You’re kidding.”
Neither of them moves.
“Dad,” I whisper, “I don’t want to get married.”
“You don’t have to want it,” he says. “You just have to do it.”
The words hit harder than any slap.
I push back from the table so fast my chair screeches. “I’m not a pawn you can marry off like a business strategy!”
Evelyn lifts her chin. “You are our daughter. And part of Kingston Tech. That comes with responsibility.”
“I never asked for this!” My voice breaks. “I never asked to be your perfect heiress! I never asked to live in this damn cage!”
Silence falls.
The kind that suffocates.
Marcus’s expression hardens into something steel-like. “Then consider this your final warning. If you refuse, your inheritance will be transferred to the board trustees. And you will be removed from all future company succession plans.”
I stare at him. My own father.
“You’d cut me off?”
“If it makes you grow up,” he says.
My chest tightens. My throat burns. “I see.” I force a smile—sharp, wild, hollow. “You care more about Kingston Tech than me.”
Evelyn doesn’t deny it.
It hurts more than I expect.
I stand, tying my robe tighter. “I’m done with this conversation.”
“Arabella—”
“No.”
I walk away before they can see I’m almost shaking. Almost breaking.
I storm through the manor, past the glass walls and marble floors that look so beautiful and feel so suffocating. The wind from the balcony slaps against my skin as I step outside again.
Marriage?
Responsibility?
I’d rather die.
I grip the railing, breathing hard, staring at the city like it owes me answers.
No man could tame me.
No ring could save me.
No marriage could ever be real.
Not for someone like me.
But Aurelia City sparkles below—tempting, dangerous, alive.
And somewhere in its shadows, in its neon-lit underworld…
my escape is waiting.
The Den.
My sanctuary.
My downfall.
My addiction.
And tonight, I feel the hunger rising.
I need to forget.
I need to lose myself.
I need a body, a stranger, a night that burns everything away.
I grab my keys.
And as I walk out of Kingston Manor, I feel something tightening inside me—like fate curling its fingers around my throat.
Tonight, I will meet the man who will ruin me.
Tonight, I will meet him.
- Writer
