All Chapters of My Enemy [BL]: Chapter 251 - Chapter 260

Rachel set the table with a cheerful clatter, sliding plates of golden toast and fluffy scrambled eggs in front of us like she was serving a fancy brunch instead of what was left over from a power outage.The eggs were surprisingly perfect—creamy and just the right amount of pepper and the toast came with little pots of homemade jam that tasted like summer in a jar.We all squeezed around the small kitchen table: Rachel at the head, her mom beside her with a plate cut into bite-sized pieces, and Rowan and I crammed together on the narrow bench, because personal space wasn’t really a thing in this house.The conversation started off light, Rachel asking Rowan about school and if he played any sports (he admitted to basketball with a shy grin that gave me butterflies), and whether he enjoyed the vineyard tours his dad sometimes dragged him on.Rowan, in full charm mode, told a ridiculously exaggerated story about the time he’d accidentally knocked over a whole display of vintage bottles

A maid closed the double doors with a soft, deliberate click that somehow sounded louder than a slam. Mom paced in front of the fireplace, arms still crossed, while Roderick leaned against the mantel, watching us with that calm, unreadable look he was so good at."Do you two realize," Mom started, her voice tight, "how worried we were? You skip school...no call, no text, no note even and vanish for two days in a snowstorm? We called the school, the police, your friends. Nothing."I opened my mouth to explain, but she raised a hand to silence me."And then we get a repair bill from some mechanic in the middle of nowhere for Rowan’s car? What on earth were you thinking? Did you have any idea how scared we were?!"Rowan shifted beside me, his jaw tightening as I felt the tension radiating off him."Where did you go?" Roderick asked, keeping his voice low and even. "And what exactly were you two doing?"Neither of us answered. My mind raced to come up with a believable excuse, study retre

Millie blinked at me as if I’d really grown that second head after all. "Not a big deal? Atlas, you hate attention. You once hid in the bathroom for an entire period just because someone complimented your shoes too loudly. This is, like, your personal nightmare!"Tori nodded vigorously. "People are going to be weird about it all week. Asking questions, making jokes—""Yeah, I know," I stood up, slinging my backpack over one shoulder. "I’ve got class in ten. I’ll catch you guys at lunch, okay?"They stared after me, mouths slightly open, as I walked away. Millie called out, "Are you feeling okay? Did you hit your head or something? Should I do a reading?!"I just waved without looking back, keeping my head high as I pushed through the front doors.The truth was, after everything that had happened over the past few weeks, secret road trips, blizzards, late-night rendezvous, digging up ghosts from Rowan’s past...this was no big deal.Whispers about being step-brothers? No biggie. I’d sur

Lunch with Millie and Tori usually felt like a safe haven...loud and chaotic, filled with overlapping stories and dramatic eye rolls that made the school day more bearable.But today, I found myself at our usual corner table, just picking at my turkey sandwich while their chatter faded into the background, kind of like noise in a coffee shop.Tori was animatedly recounting the latest rehearsal mishap from her band for the upcoming winter ball, something about the drummer knocking over a cymbal stand that crashed into the keyboardist’s amp...while Millie chimed in with sound effects and exaggerated gasps right on cue.I nodded along, giving the proper "oh no" and "seriously?" expressions, but my laptop was open in front of me, angled just so they couldn’t see what I was really focused on.And what I was really focused on was doing some deep digging into one Logan Carrington, a failed lawyer turned possible accessory to... well, something really bad.The more I read, the more questions

I lingered in the library’s quiet long after Frank’s question hung in the air, feeling it settle around me like a weight I couldn’t shake off. The silence wasn’t cold or angry, it was just heavy, the kind that happens when two people who care about each other run out of safe topics to discuss. His hand was still loosely holding mine, and I could sense the slight tremor in his fingers, the effort behind keeping his voice steady. I forced myself to look into his eyes again, and before I could think too much, the words tumbled out, soft and sad and sincere. "For what it’s worth," I said, "my feelings for you haven’t changed. Not even a little." His eyebrows went up slightly, surprise flitting across his face. "You were my first love, Frank," I carried on, this confession feeling both enormous and inevitable. "And I still love you. I probably always will, even if it takes me a while to find the right words to express it. This whole situation I’m dealing with involving someone else? I