The Spare Room

“True pain doesn’t come from enemies, but from those we hold dear.” Twenty-one-year-old Charlie Rae learned this firsthand when the people she loved betrayed her. She vowed to cut them out of her life forever. But dropping out of the university wasn’t an option, and avoiding them on campus felt impossible. Her only escape? Moving in with Taylor West—her ex-boyfriend’s biggest rival and the school’s notorious bad boy. It was supposed to be a temporary fix, but as tensions rose and sparks flew, Charlie wondered: Did she truly escape her troubles, or was she about to make another mistake? *** “Let’s get this straight right now—we’re just housemates. You’re not my type, so don’t even think about taking advantage of me!” Charlie laid down the rules. However, one morning, Charlie woke up in Taylor’s room. His gray eyes locked onto hers as he smirked, his voice playful as he asked, “I thought I wasn’t your type. So, who’s really taking advantage of who?” *** This is Book 2 and Book 3 of the series, "Love and Legacy in the House of Kings." Book 1: Divorced My Cheating Husband, Married A Billionaire (Riley & Adrian King) Book 2: "The Bad Boy Next Room" (Charlie King & Taylor West) Book 3: "Finding Mr. Perfect" (Freya King & Kenneth Wright)

Max Walker, a charming but untidy chef, is the last person Grace Chen, an uptight editorial assistant, anticipates when she finds herself in dire need of a roommate. He is spontaneous, gregarious, and utterly unorganized everything she is not. Despite their apparent inability to live together, their desperate financial situation compels them to attempt. What begins as a personality conflict gradually changes into something neither party anticipated. Grace and Max learn that sometimes the one who makes you feel at home is the one who drives you crazy as their walls fall down. But when their new connection is threatened by past relationships and job chances, they have to choose between their planned life and their newfound love.

While taking the high-speed train home, I came across a post online. “My brother-in-law is pushing thirty, but no wedding bells so far. Would it bother you if he came back to visit all the time?” The comments were all over the place. With the post blowing up, the poster started arguing with commenters. “It’s bad enough that he doesn’t start his own family, but he took one of my yogurts. I can’t stand him. “Geez. Does he know nothing about keeping boundaries? I’ve been dying to put him in his place. “I converted his room into my walk-in closet. Well, that should show him for staying here.” At that point, I stopped reading. Since I paid for the family home back then, one room would always be reserved for me. As I stepped off the train, my mother texted me. “I booked you a room at the hotel, Miles. “You might want to skip staying home this time.”

Feeling overwhelmed by loneliness, I installed a one-way mirror in the bedroom of the apartment next door, which I specifically rent out to muscular men. One day, through the mirror on the wall, I watched my tenant with his girlfriend, caught up in their fiery passion. I couldn't help but be drawn to his strong physique and impressive size. One day, I pulled him into a small, dimly lit cubicle with me...

Out of sheer kindness, I brought my drunk, heartbroken coworker home for the night after she'd been dumped. Little did I know, she'd treat my place like it was her own. "Isla, I gave my ex my whole paycheck. I'm just gonna stay here for the rest of the month. You've got this huge place all to yourself anyway—such a waste. It's perfect, we can keep each other company. And hey, no rent. You're already cooking for yourself, so what's one more plate, right?" I stopped typing and blinked, trying to process what she was saying. She kept going, "Don't worry, I'm not gonna take advantage—I'll chip in 2 bucks a day. Honestly, you must get so lonely living alone. Aren't I sweet for offering?" I just stared at her, barely holding back a laugh at her blatant audacity. That evening, I slipped out of the office early, went straight home, and deadbolted the door behind me. No matter how much she knocked and yelled from the hallway, I didn't budge. The next morning, she stormed over to my desk and slammed her hand on my cubicle wall, her tone dripping with accusation. "You were home last night—why didn't you open the door?! I had nowhere to go, had to crash at a hotel, and between that and food, I dropped 60 bucks. You owe me." She shoved her phone screen—payment receipts on full display—right in my face. I couldn't help it—I laughed out loud. If she wanted to play that game, fine. If she thought she could push me around, she was about to learn what real-world consequences looked like.

After we got married, my husband and I kept sleeping in separate rooms. At first, I asked if he could move into the primary bedroom. He refused without the slightest hesitation. "No. Rosalie would mind." "If it weren't for you, we wouldn't have ended up like this. Let's just keep things this way." Rosalie was his first love. I stood there frozen for a long time before finally saying okay. Later, I told myself that this marriage was only meant to help my family survive a cash-flow crisis and solve a difficult lawsuit his company was facing. It was just a fair exchange. Once everything was settled, we would naturally go our separate ways. After that, I never brought it up again. For the next three years, he brought her to every occasion. Family dinners, annual galas, even my mother's birthday. She was always the one standing beside him. Everyone kept guessing who the real woman of the house was. Now, everything that needed to be solved has been solved. And it is time for me to leave.