All Chapters of TWISTED ECSTASY: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The ballroom pulses with low music and the clink of expensive champagne glasses. Crystal chandeliers throw golden light across masks and gowns, but I feel like I’m suffocating in the middle of it all. I tug at the edge of my silver mask, making sure it’s still secure. The backless black dress hugs my body tighter than I expected when I slipped it on earlier, the fabric cool against my skin. Richard would lose his shit if he saw how much of my back it exposes. Perfect. That’s exactly why I wore it.Six months since Tom fucked my colleague in our bed. Six months of pretending I’m fine, smiling at family dinners while my stepfather lectures me about responsibility and “not embarrassing the Harrington name.” My mother just sits there, quiet as always, choosing peace over me. Tonight I’m done playing the good stepdaughter. I slipped away from our table some minutes ago, needing air that doesn’t taste like obligation. I’m leaning against a marble pillar, nursing a glass of champagne, w

The next morning, my body still remembers every second of last night.I wake up aching in the best and worst ways. My thighs are sore, my nipples still sensitive from how he pinched and teased them. Every time I move, I feel the ghost of Damien’s fingers inside me, the low growl of his voice saying my full name right as I came.I should be furious. I should be terrified. Instead, I’ve spent half the night touching myself thinking about the masked stranger who turned out to be my stepfather’s enemy. The man who watched me for months. The man who made me beg.I hate how much I want him.By the time I drag myself downstairs for breakfast, the mansion feels colder than usual. Richard is at the head of the table, newspaper in one hand, coffee in the other. My mother sits beside him like a pretty ornament, barely looking at me.Richard doesn’t even glance up when I sit down. “You disappeared from the gala last night. Care to explain?”My stomach tightens. “Needed some air.”He finally looks

For the past three months I’ve been living at Vale Manor, sorting through the private library collection for Lucas and his partner. The job came through a university contact, and I jumped at it. Quiet work, beautiful old house, good pay. What I didn’t plan on was them. They’ve been together for years. Anyone can see it in the way they move around each other, comfortable, possessive, warm. I told myself I was just curious. Academically curious. Then I saw them together one day and everything changed. It happened by accident the first time. I took a wrong turn on my way back from the garden with a stack of books and ended up at the tall windows of the sunroom. They didn’t see me. Lucas had Theo pressed against the big wooden table, shirt open, mouth on his neck. The sounds they made stuck in my head for days. After that, I started finding reasons to walk that way. Then I started hiding on purpose. At first I told myself I would only watch for a minute, just to understand what real des

I sit in the confessional booth, my back against the hardwood, listening to the rain beat against the roof. The air carries that familiar mix of cold stone and old incense. My hands rest in my lap as I wait. Most evenings pass quietly, but something feels off tonight. The silence presses heavier than usual.The door on the penitent’s side opens with a soft click. Cloth rustles as someone kneels. A woman. Her scent reaches me first, sweet and smoky, like honey left too close to the fire.“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”Her voice is low and smooth, wrapping around the words in a way that makes my shoulders tighten. I have heard many voices in this booth, but none quite like this one.“It has been a very long time since my last confession,” she says. I catch the amusement in her tone.I swallow and lean toward the lattice. “The Lord listens to every soul. Speak what burdens you, my child.”A soft laugh. “Oh, Father Elias. Where do I even begin?”My name. I never gave it. Well, m

Exhaustion finally catches up to me. After the meeting, the others force me to rest. They prayed over me for hours. One of the older brothers anoints every corner with oil, tracing crosses over the windows and doorframe. Before leaving, they place a small bottle of holy water on the bedside table beside my Bible.But none of it brings comfort.I lie flat on my back staring at the ceiling long after they leave, too restless to close my eyes. The room is silent except for the slow ticking of the clock on the wall and the occasional groan of old pipes somewhere in the building. My body aches with exhaustion, yet sleep refuses to come easily. Every time my eyes begin to slip shut, I remember her.Eventually, fatigue wins.Sleep takes me suddenly, pulling me under so fast it feels less like drifting off and more like sinking.At first, the dream is peaceful enough to fool me. I walk through the cathedral garden at dusk, roses blooming sweetly everywhere. Then the air changes. It turns warm