"What does my brother have to do with this?" Annabella asked.
She kept her voice like glass — smooth, clear, and seemingly unbreakable.
But beneath the surface, her heart was a panicked bird battering against its cage.
A cold dread began to seep into her bones. She had never whispered a word of her forbidden feelings to a living soul. There was no way Felix could know.
Unless…
Unless Maxwell had opened his mouth.
"Nothing," Felix said, his lips pulling into a slow, feline smile that didn't reach his dark eyes.
"I just know he would be head over heels with excitement if we were to end up together."
Annabella stiffened, her fingers curling into the plush fabric of the sofa.
"You know him?" she asked.
Felix let out a short, melodic laugh at her wide-eyed naivety.
"You mean Maxwell? Annabella, who in this industry doesn't know him?."
"Oh," she murmured, the word feeling small and hollow in her throat.
"He's actually one of my closest associates," Felix explained, leaning back.
"That night at the party… he even promised to introduce us. He was quite adamant about it, actually. Only, things didn't exactly go according to his plan."
Annabella's gaze dropped to her lap. She began to pick at her nails.
The air in the room suddenly felt too heavy to breathe. So, it wasn't just about "boundaries" or "protecting her." Maxwell wasn't just pushing her away — he was actively trying to hand her off.
He was auctioning her off to his friends like a piece of property he was tired of managing.
"What's wrong?" Felix asked. His voice softened.
He noticed the way the light died in her eyes, the way her regal shoulders slumped just a fraction of an inch.
"N-nothing." Annabella snapped her head up, regainning her composure.
She stood from the sofa, the movement sharp and decisive.
"I'll take your proposal into consideration, Mr. Felix," she said, her voice regaining its untouchable heiress bite.
She stepped closer to him, her eyes flashing with a sudden, dark fire.
"However, let's clear one thing up. Stop the delusion that we could ever be anything. My presence in this office is business. My personal life? That is a door you don't have the key to. I'm not interested."
Felix stayed seated, staring up at her with a calm, unreadable intensity.
He said nothing, allowing her words to echo in the vast, silent office.
Annabella didn't wait for a rebuttal. She snatched her bag, turned on her heel, and walked out.
The moment the heavy double doors groaned shut, the warmth vanished from Felix's face.
His expression turned to ice. He leaned back into the sofa, reaching up to rip his tie away from his throat.
He threw the expensive silk aside roughly, his chest heaving with a dark, suppressed energy.
"Like it or not…" he snarled into the empty room, his eyes fixed on the door she had just vanished through.
"You're going to fall into my trap, Annabella Rodriguez. And I'm going to enjoy every second of the descent."
•••
Annabella approached the car, its engine humming softly as it waited.
She yanked open the door and slid inside, her movements tense .
The door slammed with a violent crack that echoed through the underground parking lot.
"Ma'am..!" Lius nearly jumped out of his skin, his headphones clattering to his neck as he scrambled to face her.
"Move," Annabella gritted out.
She didn't look at him.
She sank into the deep seat, her body vibrating with a cocktail of hurt and fury.
"Where are we heading, Ma'am?" Lius asked, his hands hovering over the steering wheel, his eyes darting to her reflection in the rearview mirror.
"Anywhere! Just drive!" she hissed.
She ripped the sunglasses from her face - the designer frames hitting the leather beside her with a dull thud — and folded her arms tightly over her chest.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to tear the world apart.
Lius eased the car into gear, steering through the city streets with a cautious glance toward the mirror every few seconds.
"What happened in that building?" he wondered.
He'd seen her angry before, but this was different.
This was the kind of anger that had tears shimmering behind it.
"Are you really that desperate to get rid of me, Maxwell?" She stared out the window, the city of Madrid blurring into a smear of grey and gold.
The realization that he had discussed her like a business transaction with Felix Morales was a jagged blade twisting in her gut.
He wasn't just setting boundaries; he was handing over the keys to her life to another man.
Fumbling with her bag, she snatched her phone and dialed a number with trembling fingers.
"Where are you?" she demanded the second the line got connected.
"At the Research Lab," Amelia's voice came through, followed by a heavy, theatrical sigh.
"This internship is sucking the soul right out of me, Bella. I'm surrounded by test tubes and men who haven't seen the sun in a decade."
Annabella managed a weak, jagged chuckle.
"Complaining on day one? What happened to the girl who was going to be the world's greatest biochemist?"
"She's still here, just currently covered in literal grime. I'm not turning back," Amelia said firmly.
"That's the Amelia I know."
Annabella let out a long, shaky breath.
The brief flash of humor faded, leaving her hollow again.
"Look, I know you're busy. I just… I needed someone to talk to. It's fine though. We'll meet another day."
"Wait," Amelia's tone shifted.
"Are you okay? Bella, your voice sounds… wrong."
Amelia knew exactly where Annabella had been. and now hearing her sounding this miserable is making her think if Felix had messed up thier plan again.
She need to find out what's going on in Annabella's mind right now.
"I'm fine," Annabella lied, her voice cracking just enough to betray her.
"Just bored. This city feels too small today."
"Liar!" Amelia exclaimed.
"You know what? Just stay right where you are," Amelia ordered, already the sound of a rustling lab coat muffled in the background.
"I'm almost done here anyway. Let's meet."
"Are you sure? I don't want to ruin your first day."
"Bella, send me the address. Now."
"See you then," Annabella whispered and hung up.
She typed out the name of a secluded lounge, and sent it to Amelia.
She tossed the phone onto the seat and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the headrest.
She didn't want to think about Felix's words. she didn't want to think about Maxwell, and the fact that he was probably at his desk right now, satisfied that he'd finally disposed of his "problem" sister.
☆
☆
☆
[International College]
•
The biology lecture was nearing its end, the air thick with the scent of floor wax and the low hum of the air conditioner.
The teacher paused, her chalk hovering over the board like a conductor's baton.
"Mitochondria are known as the 'powerhouse of the cell,'" she began, her eyes scanning the room with a practiced, expectant glint.
"But what is the most compelling piece of evidence that they were once independent, free-living bacteria?"
Silence swallowed the room. Students shifted in their seats, eyes darting to their notes, desperate to avoid the spotlight of a tricky question.
Pixie Morales didn't look down.
She leaned back, a smug, practiced smirk playing on her lips.
"Dulls" she thought as she raised her hand with the grace of someone who already owned the answer.
"Yes, Pixie?" the teacher invited, her tone warming.
Pixie cleared her throat, a calculated pause as she adjusted her uniform — though not a single thread was out of place.
"The Endosymbiotic Theory," she said, her voice dripping with the confidence of someone who had spent her night reading ahead.
"Brilliant, Pixie. Simply brilliant," the teacher praised.
"Now, for the benefit of the class, would you mind explaining the specifics of that theory?"
Silent.
The smirk on Pixie's face didn't just fade; it vanished.
The confidence drained out of her, replaced by a cold, prickling sweat.
She haven't read that far.
She bit her lower lip, her heart hammering against her ribs as the silence stretched, turning from respectful to mocking.
"Guess the Queen ran out of memory," someone whispered from the back — loud enough to be heard by Pixie.
Her eyes flashed with a murderous fury, her gaze darting toward the source of the comment.
She felt the heat rising in her neck, the humiliation stinging like an open wound.
"Can anyone help Pixie out?" the teacher asked, her tone shifting to a challenge.
Pixie almost laughed.
"Let them try" she thought.
If she couldn't answer it, no one…
Ava's hand rose.
"Go ahead, Ava." The teacher said.
Ava stood, the movement slow and deliberate.
She adjusted her spectacles, her gaze calm as she looked toward the front of the room.
"The Endosymbiotic Theory is one of the most transformative ideas in evolutionary biology," Ava began, her voice soft but carrying a weight that demanded attention.
"It explains a massive 'leap' in life's history. the transition from simple, single-celled Prokaryotes to the complex Eukaryotes we are today. Mitochondria carry their own DNA, circular, just like bacteria, and they replicate independently of the cell."
The classroom went dead silent. Even the teacher folded her arms, her expression shifting from encouragement to genuine awe.
Ava wasn't just reciting a textbook; she was weaving a narrative of life itself.
Pixie felt the air leave her lungs.
The jealousy was a physical thing, a jagged stone in her throat.
The class erupted into spontaneous applause as Ava finished and quietly reclaimed her seat, acting as if she hadn't just shattered Pixie's glass throne.
"Wonderful, Ava. Truly exceptional," the teacher said.
"Ok class, this is the end of today's lesson. Don't forget to do your assignments." The teacher said before exiting the class.
The bell rang, a shrill signal of release.
Ava packed her bag, her mind already on the cafeteria.
She hadn't packed a lunch, and the morning's mental exertion had left her hollow.
She stepped out into the hallway, her eyes focused on the path ahead — until her foot caught on something solid.
"Ahh!"
Ava hit the floor hard.
Her bag slid across the tiles, and a sharp, burning pain flared in her elbows and knees.
"Oops! Sorry… I didn't see you coming," Pixie said, her voice a theatrical mock-apology as she slowly retracted her leg.
Paula and Ceci stood behind her, their faces twisted into ugly, triumphant grins.
Ava didn't even look up at first, her breath hitching as she looked at her scraped, reddening skin.
Before she could even attempt to rise, a heavy clatter echoed through the hall.
The hallway trashcan had been kicked over, its contents spilling across Ava's lap and books.
"Sorry, Ava. It slipped," Ceci mocked, the trio erupting into cruel, jagged laughter.
"It actually fits her," Paula added, leaning in.
"Trash for trash." she added.
Pixie stepped forward, her expensive shoes stopping inches from Ava's face.
Her voice dropped to a lethal, low-register warning.
"Listen to me carefully, Ava. Stop trying to step ahead of me. This college is my territory, and I am the Queen. If you keep pushing, this floor will be the best part of your day."
They swept past her, leaving Ava sitting in the wreckage of their insecurity.
"So embarrassing."
"Yuck, she's literally sitting in garbage."
The whispers of passing students stung worse than the bruises.
Ava's fists clenched, her knuckles turning white.
She forced herself to stand, her legs trembling with a mix of pain and white-hot fury.
"Ava!" A shadow fell over her.
She looked up to see Ethan, his face a mask of shock and concern.
He didn't hesitate; he was at her side in an instant, his hands steady as he helped her up.
"What happened?" he asked, his voice thick with worry as he used his handkerchief to brush the dust and debris from her uniform.
"I… I slipped," she lied, her voice trembling.
Ethan looked at the overturned trashcan, then back at the bruises blooming on her skin.
He knew…
He knew exactly what had happened, but he didn't push. Instead, he gently took her bag from her shoulder.
"You're hurt," he said softly, his hand lingering on her arm to steady her.
"Come on. I'm taking you to the clinic."
Ava nodded, leaning into his strength just a little, letting him lead her away from the site of her humiliation.
☆
☆
☆
[TACHA Beauty & Wellness]
•
The air was heavy with the scent of eucalyptus and expensive essential oils.
Soft, meditative music hummed in the background, designed to soothe the soul.
They were draped in plush white towels, lying on parallel massage tables as the therapists worked with rhythmic, silent precision.
"Lower," Amelia murmured to her masseuse, gesturing toward her lower back.
She waited a beat before turning her head toward the other table.
"Alright, spill. What happened to you today?"
Annabella opened her eyes slowly, the ceiling lights blurring through a sudden, hot film of moisture.
She let out a long, ragged sigh that seemed to rattle her entire frame.
"I don't know, girl," she whispered, her voice thick and fractured.
"Too many things are hitting me at once. I'm... I'm totally fucked up."
Amelia blinked, her gaze sharpening.
She'd known Annabella for years — they'd navigated the treacherous waters of high society together — but she had never seen the untouchable heiress look so close to breaking.
"What happened exactly? You're genuinely starting to worry me. I've never seen you like this, Bella."
Annabella hesitated. Could she trust Amelia?
They'd been friends for years, though their bond was often a jagged dance of competition.
But the weight of the secret was crushing her ribs, and she couldn't carry it alone for one more second.
"My brother is pushing me away, Amelia," she began, the words tasting like poison.
"I don't get it," Amelia countered, her brow furrowing. "As in... how?"
"He said we're... too close." Annabella's voice trembled as she recalled Maxwell's face — the cold, forced distance in his eyes that hurt worse than a physical blow.
"He told me we aren't kids anymore. That I shouldn't be hugging him, or coming into his room, or... dressing the way I do around him. He told me we're grown-ups now. That we need to keep our distance. He's drawing lines, Amelia. Thick, black lines."
"What!?" Amelia practically screeched, sitting up abruptly and startling her therapist.
"But you're his sister! I mean... there's absolutely no reason you can't be close. Why on earth is he pushing you away like you're some stranger?"
"I don't know!" Annabella choked out, finally covering her face with her hands.
The first sob broke through her throat, hot and uncontrollable.
"I don't know. But it's killing me. I can't handle it, Amelia. I can't be away from him. I'll... I'll die."
The tears soaked into the white towel beneath her face.
The silence in the room became suffocating, broken only by Annabella's jagged breaths.
Amelia's eyes narrowed, She waved the therapists out of the room with a sharp flick of her wrist.
Once the door clicked shut, she leaned over toward Annabella, her voice dropping to a low, interrogating hum.
"Wait, Bella..." Amelia whispered, her heart racing with the thrill of a scandal she couldn't dare believe unless she heard it from Annabella's mouth herself.
"Look at me."
Annabella didn't move.
"Are you in love with your brother?" Amelia asked raising an eyebrow.
Annabella's breath hitched.
She opened her mouth to deny it — to laugh, to scoff — but the words died in her throat.
Instead, a fresh wave of tears spilled down her cheeks, silent and damning.
The truth sat between them, naked and dangerous.