All Chapters of Ruined by My Best Friend’s Father: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

I didn't expect to see him there.If anything, I had told myself the night would be simple.Show up. Smile. Listen. Leave.That was the plan.The restaurant was already half full when I arrived, the kind of place where conversations stayed low and everything—from the lighting to the way the tables were arranged—felt intentionally controlled. It wasn't loud, but it wasn't quiet either. Just enough noise to make everything feel private.Andre spotted me first and lifted a hand slightly."Over here."I made my way toward the table, slipping into the empty seat beside him."You're late," he said, though his tone carried no real complaint."Traffic," I replied, smoothing my sleeve unconsciously."Relax," he said. "You're not presenting anything tonight.""I know.""Then stop looking like you are."I exhaled softly and leaned back a little."Noted."T

He just said: "You're not jealous. I hear you."The words hung between them, not like weapons but like bridges. Eva remained still in his arms, the warmth of his body seeping through the thin fabric of her dress. She didn't pull away. He didn't release her. The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable—it was filled with unspoken understanding.Damian's hand rested against the small of her back, fingers spread wide as if memorizing the curve of her spine. She could feel his heartbeat against her cheek, steady and reassuring.Eva shifted slightly, a barely perceptible movement that brought her flush against him. Her hands, which had been clenched into fists at her sides, slowly unfurled, palms coming to rest against his chest. The cotton of his shirt was warm, and beneath it, the steady rhythm of his heart pulsed against her skin."Still thinking?" he murmured, his voice low enough to vibrate through he

I should have said no to the event.That thought had followed me from the moment Chloe mentioned it three days earlier, through the dress she insisted I borrow, through the message she sent that morning reminding me not to wear black because, in her words, I always wore black when I was trying not to be perceived. By the time I was standing inside the crowded ballroom with a drink I did not want in my hand, I knew my first instinct had been the right one.It wasn't that the event was bad. It was polished, expensive, and full of exactly the kind of people who knew how to make money look effortless. A charity auction, technically, but nobody here was pretending it was only about charity. It was about visibility, connection, influence, and the kind of conversations that started with donations and ended with business.Chloe was thriving.Of course she was.She moved through the room with the ease of someone who had grown up around these

I woke up before he did, or maybe I had never fully fallen asleep.It was hard to tell.Everything felt too present, too close, too aware. The warmth of him was still there, his arm resting around me, his body pressed against mine in a way that no longer felt unfamiliar. At some point, I had shifted closer in my sleep, or maybe I had never moved away at all.Either way, there was no space left between us.I lay still for a moment, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, letting myself exist inside that quiet without moving too quickly and breaking it.This had become a pattern.Not routine, not something I could name easily, but something that was happening often enough to feel... expected.That thought alone should have unsettled me more than it did.Instead, what unsettled me was how natural it felt to stay.I adjusted slightly, just enough to rest more comfortably against him, and his arm tightened almost instinctively in response, pulling me closer without fully waking. T

Chloe made coffee like nothing had happened. That was the first thing I heard when I came downstairs. The clatter of the cupboard. The grind of the machine. Her humming something under her breath, off-key and unbothered, the way she always did on mornings when she was in a good mood and had nowhere to be before noon. I stopped on the last step. For a second I just stood there, listening, letting the sound settle over the sharp edges of what I was still carrying from yesterday. She doesn’t know. That was the thought that followed me down the rest of the stairs and into the kitchen doorway. It wasn’t relief. It wasn’t guilt yet, either. It was something quieter and harder to name. Something that came from watching Chloe turn around with two mugs in her hands and a grin on her face like the world was exactly the size she expected it to be. “You’re alive,” she said. “Barely.” She set one of the mugs on the counter in front of me without being asked. “I made it strong,” she said.