[ Political Heir × Brothel Girl ] "You see this? Take a good, long look." He gestured vaguely at her crumpled form. "Because it's the last time any of you are ever going to see her." Roshini let out a fresh sob. He ignored her. He was addressing the crowd, his audience. "I don't know which one of you sick bastards has been enjoying this, and I don't care. But the party is over. This one?" He leaned down, grabbing her chin and forcing her tear-stained, terrified face up to look at him. "She's mine now." ▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪ I went to the brothel to drag a name through the mud. Hers. They said she was a sin men paid for, so I decided I'd be the only one who touched her life from that night on. I told myself I was punishing a lie, protecting my blood, ending a disgrace. She never cried. Never begged. Just looked at me like I was temporary. I thought I was punishing her. I thought I was ruining her. I went to ruin her life. Instead she ruined me. Slowly ruined me. ◀ | MATURE CONTENT | ▶ ▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪ All Rights Reserved 2026 © Chiya Saxena

Completed • First Draft - not edited. || "You gonna sit there all night?" Luka glances at me, smirking. I glare back. "I was enjoying the last few seconds of peace before having to spend an evening pretending to like you." "That's funny," he says, unbuckling his seatbelt. "Why?" I snap. "Because I was thinking the same thing." || The rules? Easy enough. 1. Pretend to be the perfect couple. 2. Keep it professional. 3. And whatever you do, don't. catch. feelings. Simple, right? Sofia Calloway never planned on going viral for throwing a drink in Luka Mikhaylov's face. But one video, one pissed-off hockey star, and one furious university later... she's suddenly stuck in a fake relationship with the guy she can't stand. He needs to clean up his image before the NHL draft. She needs the free tuition that comes with the deal. All they have to do is smile for the cameras, hold hands at the games, and act like they don't want to strangle each other. Then come the late-night arguments that last too long. The stolen glances that feel too dangerous. The moment where "pretend" starts looking way too real. Because when you break the rules, someone's bound to lose. And this time, it might be both of them.

Without warning, I reached down and gave her ass a hard smack. "That's for spray painting my car," I said. Her breath hitched, and she bit her lip, trying to suppress a smile. "You're such a caveman." "Caveman? How about this?" I said, smacking her ass again, harder this time. She moaned, and I could feel her responding to me, her body betraying her defiance. 𝐄𝐒𝐌𝐄 I was raised to be perfect. The golden girl. The Kensington princess. Sheltered. Untouched. A good girl with a silver spoon and a diamond crown. But then there's 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐅𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧. My stepbrother. My brother's enemy. A man carved from sin, wrapped in arrogance, and dipped in ink. He doesn't ask. He takes. He doesn't chase. He owns. And when he touches me? It's not gentle. It's filthy. It's wrong. I should run. I should hate him. But when he says my name, low and dark, I don't think about stopping. I think about how deep I can fall. Because Caleb isn't just my first sin. He's the one I'll never escape. 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁 She was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. And I was the bastard here to tarnish it. 𝐄𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧. Mummy's little princess. The golden girl. The one thing in this world I was never supposed to touch. But I don't follow rules. I break them. And Esme? She was made to be ruined. Soft lips. Delicate curves. A body that begs for my hands. She's innocent, but not with me. I'm dragging her into the dark, making her dirty, making her mine. She thinks she can survive me. Thinks she can walk away untouched. But Esmeralda? She belongs to me. 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙮'𝙧𝙚 𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧'𝙨 𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜. 𝘚𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘙𝘢𝘸 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵.