The Nineteenth and Final Vow

Sloane watched from the side, the feigned concern on her face melting away, replaced by a flicker of pure triumph.

Seeing the smug smile she couldn't quite suppress, I half-expected her to burst out laughing.

Pablo frowned, his annoyance clear. "What's the big deal about making Sloane the muse? Do you have to be so dramatic?"

I offered him a thin smile. "I'm not angry."

"Is this some new trick to get my attention?" he sneered. "Fine. You can spend the night in the guest room. Maybe it will help you remember your place."

It was his standard punishment.

I didn't argue. I just turned and walked away. I spent the night in the cold, sterile guest room, the distant sound of his and Sloane's laughter drifting from the master bedroom.

At dawn, I received an unexpected call from my father.

"The Global Pioneer Design Competition is today," he said, his voice urgent. "What are you still doing there? You worked too hard to get selected just to miss it."

The design competition.

Right. I’d almost forgotten. A month ago, I had poured everything into my application, hoping that a strong showing might finally earn me a sliver of Pablo's respect.

I didn't need his validation anymore, but I wasn't about to let my hard work go to waste. I nodded, my resolve firm, and headed to the competition venue.