
Always Be Mine
Ever since she could remember, Maya Connors has always been the smart, shy girl that sat at the back of the classroom. She tackled every task with a boundless zest, except when it came to boys and relationships. Being eighteen and never once had a boyfriend, she was adamant that it would stay the same until she graduated.
But sometimes, you have to expect the unexpected - such as falling for Ethan Morrison, a boy who was way too handsome and way too out of her league.
Despite coming from very different social circles, a school trip to Europe was all it took as to her dismay, she found him incredibly charming.
But when Maya ventures out of her shell and falls too deep, she realizes that it's too late to go back. With her heart laying on the line, she's about to face a whirlwind of emotions, drama, and secrets.
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Chapter 1
Maya's P.O.V
The morning sunbeams peeked through the clouds and cascaded onto my blinds, indicating that it was the morning. I rolled over to check the time on my phone.
6:45 am.
That means I had precisely forty-five minutes until the bus came. The first thing I do every morning is open my window, taking in the fresh morning air. After my short therapeutic session finishes, my typical morning routine begins as I fumble my way to the toilet to brush my teeth and wash my face.
Once I finished getting ready, I headed downstairs for breakfast. The kitchen was an absolute battlefield with mom stirring chocolate chip pancake batter and cutting up fruits at the same time.
"That's a lot of food for just breakfast," I said.
She shook her head in denial. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."
With a defeated exhalation, I dug into the pile of food onto the table. Fifteen minutes have passed and I was finally cleaning my last place. My mom wouldn't let me leave the table unless I ate all my food. She was a strong believer in finishing plates to fight against food wastage.
By the time I reached the bus station, the driver was already heading away. I picked up my speed and managed to bang on the side of the bus, signaling the driver to stop. When I walked up to the bus, I felt the stares directed towards me, making me feel uneasy.
I absolutely hated being late. I hate it when people turn and stare, like I was some sort of abnormal creature stumbling into class. That's exactly why I was so obsessive when it came to waking up and leaving at the right time to make sure I wasn't late.
Today wasn't any different, apart from the fact that my mom made a whole feast for breakfast and wouldn't let me leave until I finished my food.
I searched for an empty seat, making my way there and sliding off my bag. As I settled down, I realized that I was completely out of breath and panting like I've just ran a whole marathon. I needed to exercise more often.
My schedule today started with Mathematics, then Spanish, Literature then ending the day off with Science.
The day went by in a flash, mostly with my head buried in my notebook as I hurriedly took notes as the teacher spoke. Everyone seemed to be relaxing, some on their phones, and the rest barely paying any attention.
The sound of the bell filled my ears as Spanish class ended. I made my way to Literature with Ms. Doris Wilson, one of the strictest teachers in the school. Unlike all the other teachers, she didn't have a good list. She treated everyone with the same stern manner and held a strong belief in putting in the effort to receive the desired outcome.
I admired her passion for literature, amazed at how she could speak for hours and highlight so much meaning from just a simple text. Ms. Wilson cut my thoughts short as she cleared her throat. I looked up, appalled that she had called me out.
I lowered my face to hide from all glances directed towards me, praying that this nightmare would be over soon.
She points at the question on the board then turns back to me, one eyebrow raised and impatiently waiting for me to come up to the board. My body tenses as I gather all the strength I had and stood up.
If there was one thing I feared the most, it was attention. While most people crave for it, I despised it. I never quite understood what gains did being in the center of attention have, apart from pressuring you to be perfect. It all came down to confidence, which as an introvert, I had none of.
As if things weren't bad enough, I hear faint sneers from the front of the room gradually getting louder as I make my way up. It was the group of jocks, whispering to each other. I felt self-conscious, positive that they were talking about me. Panic filmed over my vision as I try to look away, avoiding as much eye contact as possible.
My suspicions were confirmed when I heard a voice groan. "Anytime now."
I pressed my lips together as I mentally curse myself for being so shy and weak. Ethan Morrison nudged the guy and told him to shut it, which made my stomach twist in knots. For the Captain of the football team and the most popular guy in school, he was awfully humble.
It seemed like forever until I made it to the board. The pen was shaking in my hand, but I somehow managed to scribble down the answer. I whipped around and sprinted back to my seat, making eye contact with Ethan on the way back.
Ms. Wilson checked the answer, and her lips curled upwards, satisfied with my response. "Please pay attention next time."
I sink in my seat while she continues her lecture.
Finally, I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath to calm down, forcing myself to breathe in and out slowly. Not long later, the bell rang, and immediately, everyone stood up and packed their things.
"We'll continue next class," Ms. Wilson says before wiping the board clean.
I put my books into the bag and headed out of the room. Three minutes later, I was in the canteen and lining up for the food. A tap on my shoulders startled me as I turned around to see Leah widely grinning at me. For a Monday, she was definitely excited.
We sat on our usual table on the side of the cafeteria. For as long as I could remember, this had always been the one that we sat at. The table in the middle, right at the center of attention, was reserved for the popular kids, meaning the jock and cheerleaders.
"How was Ms. Wilson's class?" Leah chirped, placing her tray onto the table.
"Horrible, she made me come to write on the board."
"You mean she called you out?" Leah jokingly gasped, pretending like it was the worst thing ever. Of course, she wouldn't understand the horror of having twenty pairs of eyes simultaneously looking at you. I could only wish to have a fraction of her confidence.
Her lips twitched into a small grin as I shot her a look. "I can't believe Maya Connors, the girl with straight A's, got called out for misbehaving."
"I wasn't misbehaving, just daydreaming."
"And not taking notes?" She opened her mouth slightly, "that's a crime in your world!"
"I'm not kidding. It was dreadful, the jocks were laughing at me," I informed her, frowning.
"God, during times like this makes me wish I was in your class to shut those dickheads up."
This was why I loved her. She was always there for me, as my protector. And that made me extremely happy.
"Well, Ethan did tell them them to shut it," I said, my mind replaying the moment over and over again.
"He's a nincompoop," Leah said, popping the p.
I laughed, amused by her choice of word. God, she was weird.
"Yeah, a very cute nincompoop," I explained, glancing over my shoulders. Thank God, nobody heard me.
I looked around the cafeteria, my gaze automatically darting towards Ethan's crowded table. There was a mixture of cheerleaders and jocks, but my attention was solely on Ethan. He looked effortlessly handsome as he sat on top of the table, his legs rested on the bench. He was joking around with the boys, occasionally smiling, which revealed his cute pair of dimples.
Leah caught me staring at their table as she rolled her eyes at me. "They're all full of themselves. I bet when they wake up, the first thing they do is check in the mirror to see how good looking they are."
Probably not Ethan, I thought to myself. He wasn't like the rest of them.
Why was I defending someone that I didn't even know? Better yet, he probably didn't even know my name. Instead of protesting, I stayed silent to stop any further discussions about this topic.
The last thing I needed was to talk more about some meaningless action of Ethan's. He probably just felt bad that a shy girl was getting picked on so being the nice guy he is, he told his friends to stop.
She watched me like I was a puzzle, but I wasn't even thinking that much. Was I?
"So, are you going on that trip to Europe?" Leah asked, placing her elbows onto the table and eating her sandwich.
I shrugged my shoulders. "I haven't decided."
That was a lie, I didn't have any intentions of going, but I wasn't going to tell her that. If I did, I'd never hear the end of it. Ever since the announcement of the trip, she hasn't stopped pestering me about it.
She tilted her head and looked at me like I was crazy. "It's your Senior year. You have to go!"
I gave her an apologetic smile, hoping that she would let it go, but she didn't.
"It's the very last trip we're going to have together, you can't just leave me with a bunch of people that I hate," she continues.
"I'll think about it."
"There's no need to think, and you don't have an option. You have to go, Maya!" She whines.
I let out a single laugh hearing how desperate she was for me to go, slightly feeling bad about leaving her alone, especially on our very last trip. If it were any other year, she would have blatantly shrugged the idea off, but seeing her this determined to get me to go makes me think that she wasn't going to change her mind any time soon.
But I really didn't think it was a good idea to go on a trip with a bunch of people I didn't even know. Leah usually wouldn't either, but since it was our last year, she was convinced that this trip was vital and that if we didn't go, it would be the end of the world.
Despite claiming that she hated everyone in this school and wasn't afraid to show it, she got along with people pretty easily. Maybe it was her naturally cheering demeanor that allowed people to approach her openly. Me, on the other hand, I preferred to stay quiet and unnoticed. I wouldn't be surprised if someone bumped into me in the hallway, saying that they didn't see me. It's partially one of the reasons why we were best friends. As my polar opposite, she's like the cream to my coffee.
I threw my hands up in defeat, knowing that this debate would never end unless I agreed to her. "Alright, I'll go!"
There are two important things to know about Leah. One, she was crazy, in a good way. Sometimes. And two, she never takes no for an answer.
A self-satisfied smile spread across her face knowing that she has once again won.
Almost ten minutes passed, and I've lost track of what Leah was ranting on about. I knew she was planning about the trip, but other than that, I was completely clueless.
Seeing how ecstatic she was about this trip made me scared to disappoint her. I haven't even asked my parents for permission, yet I already agreed to go with Leah.
The bell rang, and I sent a wave goodbye at her, heading to my last class of the day. It went by quicker than I thought, and before I knew it, the tiring day was finally over.
I made my way onto the bus, feeling happy that there were still empty seats in the front. I hated sitting at the back. It was where all the loud people were.
Upon arriving home, the delightful smell of food rewarded my nose as the sound of chopping filled my ears. I walked into the kitchen, the sight of my mom with a floral apron tied around her waist and peaceful piano music playing in the background.
She looks up and smiles at me, putting her knife down to kiss me on the forehead.
"How was school?" She asked, going back to cutting up the vegetables.
"Same old, same old," I forced a smile. I didn't know how to ask her about the trip, which ultimately made me more nervous.
"You must be tired, go rest. Dinner's ready in an hour."
I walked up to the stairs and threw my bag onto the floor, immediately jumping onto my bed. I unhooked my bra before taking it off, letting the breeze and freeness that my chest felt sink in. I swear, nothing feels as good as taking your bra off at the end of the day.
Time passed by quickly as I spent the remaining hour scrolling through Instagram and watching YouTube videos. My mom's voice hollered from downstairs once dinner was ready.
As everyone got seated at the table, we said our blessings before digging in.
"Thank you for the delicious meal, honey," my dad directed to my mom as she sent him a smile in response.
He then turned to look at me. "Tell me about your day, Maya."
"Well, I almost missed my bus, but thankfully I didn't. Then I went to classes, and now I'm home," I tried to summarize my day as short as I could, leaving out the important details about the trip to Europe.
We all ate in silence, and I can't help but shove all the food down my throat, finishing it significantly earlier than my parents.
"Is everything okay?" My mom asked.
This was it. It was now or never. I couldn't delay it any longer.
"I've been meaning to ask you," I played with the edge of my shirt, "so there's this school trip to Europe."
"Europe?" My dad's eyebrows raised slightly. I could tell he was already concerned.
My mom jumped in, thankfully. "Let her speak."
"It's my final year, and Leah really wants me to go on this trip with her. There's going to be about twenty people going, and a teacher accompanying us."
"Which teacher?"
"Ms. Wilson, our literature teacher."
"What is the trip for?"
"Well, we're studying a book called A Movable Feast by Ernest Hemingway which is set in Paris, and there's a series of sceneries in the book that we'll visit during the trip."
"I mean, since it's your final year, I'm sure a trip to Europe wouldn't hurt," My mom said. My dad was about to open his mouth to ask more questions, but my mom cuts him off, diverting the topic.
"If you're done eating, put your dish in the sink. I'll wash them later."
I nodded and picked up my dish quickly, leaving the table before my dad could say anything. Walking up to my room, a burst of excitement was filling my body as I immediately picked up my phone and called Leah. After a few rings, she picked up.
"Hey girl," she said.
"Guess what?"
"I just asked my parents if I could go," I said.
"And?" Leah exclaimed eagerly.
"And they said yes!" I yelled through the phone.
"Oh my god!" Leah screamed, "it's official, we're going!"
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9.5
I was a disgraced heiress hiding as a dishwasher in a high-end club, scrubbing lipstick off glasses until my fingers went numb. One night, I was forced to deliver a bottle of vintage whiskey to the penthouse, only to find the tech billionaire Kenan Cervantes collapsing from a lethal neural storm. I used my surgeon’s training to save his life, holding him in the dark until his fever finally broke.
The next morning, the world I knew shattered. My coworker Tiffany, who hadn't even stepped foot in the room, claimed my identity as the savior. She signed a non-disclosure agreement and walked away with a $200,000 check, while I was accused of stealing the whiskey and had my entire month's wages forfeited as punishment.
While Tiffany was flaunting Chanel suits and posting photos from his balcony, I was being shoved into the mud by my abusive foster father in a dark alley. I watched from the shadows as Kenan stepped into his luxury car, looking right through me with nothing but cold distaste. To him, I was just "street trash" cluttering the sidewalk, while the imposter was the "angel" who had stabilized his heart.
The injustice felt like a physical weight. I had quieted the noise in his brain and kept him from the brink of death, yet I was the one facing eviction and hunger. I didn't understand how he could be a genius and still be so blind to the truth, rewarding a thief while I rotted in the basement.
Everything reached a breaking point when Tiffany forced me to sneak into his penthouse to help her maintain the lie. But Kenan returned from Tokyo early, finding me on the terrace with his military-grade protection dog. The beast that had tried to bite Tiffany was now resting its head in my lap, protecting me from its own master.
Kenan dropped his briefcase, his eyes locking onto mine as the fragmented memories of the storm finally clicked into place.
"You," he whispered.

7.9
June was an ordinary architect struggling to pay rent, completely estranged from her high-society mother.
But one night, she was kidnapped and beaten in an abandoned warehouse by Gage Becker, the city's most ruthless billionaire, who demanded payback for her mother's sins.
Gage pointed a high-definition camera at June's battered face and video-called her mother, threatening to release the footage and ruin her upcoming billion-dollar wedding.
"I will never throw away a billion-dollar marriage for a useless daughter."
Her mother's cold voice echoed through the warehouse before the line went dead.
From that moment, Gage systematically destroyed June's life. She was publicly humiliated and forced to hack off her own hair with a cigar cutter. She was blacklisted from every firm in the city, evicted by her landlord, and violently mugged in a freezing New York blizzard.
Curled up in an icy tunnel waiting to die, June felt a suffocating despair. She hadn't spoken to her mother in months. Why did she have to endure this hell for a woman who didn't even care if she lived or died? Why was a monster like Gage so obsessed with driving her to the grave?
When Gage's armored Maybach pulled up, he stepped into the snow to mock her, waiting for her to finally surrender and beg for his mercy.
But the absolute humiliation snapped the last thread of June's sanity.
Instead of crying, she lunged forward with feral energy and sank her teeth directly into the devil's flesh.

8.1
Terminally ill.
Betrayed by her husband.
Abandoned by the only family she had.
Ariel died with nothing... and no one.
But fate gives her a second chance.
Reborn three years before her death, she walks away from the man who ruined her life-and takes back everything they stole.
Her love.
Her identity.
Her power.
Now, the cold billionaire who once ignored her can't take his eyes off her.
The brother who abandoned her starts to regret.
Too late.
Because this time, Ariel isn't the woman who begs.
She's the one who makes them kneel.

9.2
For three years of their secret relationship, Claire was sure Carsten would never let her down.
But she overestimated herself and underestimated the hold his first love had on him.
Three years of devotion ended with him suggesting she marry someone else, saying, "In six months, after your divorce, I'll marry you."
Heartbroken, Claire walked away and vowed to never betray her new husband.
What started as an arranged marriage blossomed into something real.
Carsten, desperate, searched endlessly for her-only to be met by a nobleman who protected Claire and their unborn child, telling him to let go.

9.2
Arla was supposed to marry Clinton Freeman, the perfect fiancé who had promised to love her and protect her five-year-old son.
But instead, the cold steel of a dagger pierced her chest.
As she collapsed onto the freezing basement floor, she watched her adoptive sister Blair laugh.
"Look at her," Blair sneered, kicking her son's small, blue, lifeless body.
Clinton stood there, calmly wiping the bloody blade on a pristine handkerchief.
In her dying moments, the horrifying truth became clear. Her fiancé and her adoptive family had been plotting all along to steal her massive trust fund.
To break her, they had secretly tortured her child. Clinton had watched Blair pierce the little boy's arms with sewing needles, rewarding him with candy to keep him silent.
Arla's lungs burned with the taste of copper and ash.
She couldn't understand why the family she trusted could be so monstrous, or why they had to brutally murder an innocent child just for money.
The darkness swallowed her whole, drowning her in suffocating hatred and absolute despair.
Then, she gasped for air.
The concrete floor was gone, replaced by the silk sheets of a hotel penthouse suite.
Arla had been reborn to the exact night six years ago—the very day Blair first dragged her son into the dark attic.
This time, she picked up a solid silver letter opener, ready to burn them all to the ground.

7.7
Alondra spent three hours making soup for her husband, only to find him at the hospital tenderly holding another woman's hand.
"I'm four weeks pregnant, Gerard," the woman said softly.
Gerard coldly handed Alondra a divorce agreement, claiming their three-year marriage was just a placeholder because this woman had once saved his life.
Heartbroken, Alondra fled in her car, only to realize her brakes had been completely disabled.
She spun out of control and crashed head-on into a massive delivery truck.
As she lay trapped in the mangled wreckage with her ribs crushed and blood filling her mouth, Gerard's black Maybach pulled up to the curb.
He stared at her dying body through the window with a completely blank expression.
He didn't call an ambulance or even open his door.
He simply rolled up his tinted window and drove away into the rain.
A raw, suffocating hatred burned in her chest, hotter than the pain in her shattered bones.
She couldn't understand how the man she had loved and served so devotedly could just coldly watch her die like a piece of trash.
Opening her eyes again, Alondra gasped for air.
She had returned to the exact morning two years ago, right before she was supposed to deliver that pathetic soup.
When Gerard walked in and threatened her with divorce, she didn't cry or beg.
"I agree. Let's divorce," she said calmly, packing her bags to reclaim her true identity as a billionaire heiress.