CHAPTER NINE
LILA
It’s been thirty-six hours since my world flipped upside down , and I still don’t know if I’m happy about it… or furious. I don’t like change. I crave consistency. But something inside me has awakened, and she’s clawing her way out, ripping through every wall I’ve built to keep her contained.
“Are you ready, Princess?” His voice is low and commanding, laced with heat. Those ice blue eyes pierce through the black and gold rose mask, locking on mine like he already owns every inch of me. “Ready for your punishment?”
My breath catches, and my heart stutters. I nod, speechless, entirely at his mercy. The belt comes undone in one smooth motion, the sharp sound slicing through the air like a warning. Then he flips me onto my stomach, swift and controlled, molding my body to the bed like it belongs there.
“You disobeyed me,” he growls. “And for that… you’ll have to pay.
” His palm drags over the curve of my ass, firm and slow, sending a shiver down my spine.
Every nerve sparks under his touch. “I told you not to bite your lip.” His voice dips, a dark whisper against my ear.
“And you did it anyway.” His bare hand lands with a sharp slap that makes me gasp.
I glance over my shoulder, eyes meeting his, and sink my teeth into my bottom lip, slow, teasing, defiant. “Oh? Like this?”
He grins, all dangerous edges and perfect teeth. His jaw flexes, the stubble from his five o’clock shadow catching in the moon’s glow spilling through the skylight, as if the stars themselves are bearing witness. Butterflies explode in my stomach, and slick heat pools between my thighs.
“You’re asking for it,” he chuckles low and primal. The belt hisses through his fist as he steps back, eyes burning into me.
“Hmmm. Maybe I am.” The way he looks at me, dark, hungry, says everything. This punishment won’t be gentle. And I’ll beg for every second of it.
Yes. Please keep going… don’t stop.
Then… RING. RING. RING.
Wait.
No.
Shit, shit, shit.
I bolt upright, yanking off my sleep mask in horror. I just had a wet dream. A filthy, deliciously detailed wet dream.
And it was about him . The Phantom.
The one who laughed at me, after we basically eye-fucked across the room. God. What is wrong with me?
I groan, flopping back against my pillow, already hating myself for every second of it.
No. Absolutely not. Dreaming about him is off-limits. Completely. Hell! He probably wasn’t even real!
My phone buzzes again. I grab it off the nightstand, trying to suppress the leftover heat still pulsing through my body. “Umm, hello?” I croak.
“Lila, what are you still doing in bed?” Aster’s voice explodes through the speaker. She doesn’t even give me time to respond before continuing, “You sound flustered… Wait—do you have a guy over?”
“Aster !” I gasp. “You know I would’ve texted you!”
“Well? Spill. What is it?”
I lower my voice, like someone might actually be eavesdropping from inside my empty apartment. “Ummm… I had a…” I mumble.
“You had what?”
I glance around, then yell, “Okay! I had a wet dream!”
“Oh. My. God,” she squeals so loud I have to pull the phone away from my ear before she causes permanent damage.
“And the worst part?” I groan. “It was about the Phantom. The one I watched…”
“No way. Shut up. I knew you were a kinky bitch,” she squeals again. “Did you get his number? Did you see him again after the party?”
I sigh, already disappointed in myself. "Nope. Honestly, it felt like an out-of-body experience. I had way too many shots..."
“If this Phantom of the Opera brought that side out of you and you masturbated to him getting off—”
“ASTER!”
“I mean… that’s what you did, Lila. But honestly? I kind of hope he’s real.”
We both burst into laughter. “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds like I need therapy,” I say between giggles, “and probably need to get laid.”
“Oh my God, yes. Can you please pick out something or someone…yummy at the sex club this weekend?”
“Girl, what? Are you nuts? I’ve never even been to a place like that,” I say, shaking my head. “But… I’ll think about it.”
“ You better. But hey… ummm I didn’t just call to harass you about your sex life. I wanted to check on you.” Her tone softens. “You said your mom has her appointment today. How are you holding up?”
The laughter dies. My chest tightens. My voice catches.
Reality slams into me like a thousand bricks pressing down on my lungs.
Silence lingers as tears slip down my cheeks, one after another.
She hears my sniffles. “I’m… trying to be strong.
For Dad. For Mom. But I’m falling apart, Aster. I can’t do this…”
There’s a pause. She doesn’t rush me; she lets me cry. Then I hear her sniffle too. Even though she’s a badass… when it comes to me, she’s a big baby. If I’m crying, she’s crying. If I’m mad, then she’s angry. And I wouldn’t change it for the world… but she’d kill me if I ever told anyone.
“You can do this. Lila, you’re the strongest person I know,” she finally says, softly. “And I love you. Your family is my family. I’ll be beside you every step of the way. Do you want me to come? I’ll drop everything right now and head that way.”
I wipe my face with my sleeve. “I think I’ll be okay. But I’ll let you know if I need you.”
“I love you.”
“Kisses,” I whisper.
“Kisses, babe.”
We hang up, and my throat knots, making it hard to swallow as dread creeps in. This is the appointment. The one that gives life or death its whole, brutal meaning. The one where my mom decides if she’s going to fight… or surrender.
I sit up and take in my tiny, rundown studio apartment.
It’s not much, but it’s mine. The hardwood floors are scuffed and splintery.
The stove only works half the time, and I usually take the stairs because the elevator is always broken or stuck.
I can’t really afford anything else… not that I’d ever give up this view.
My flat is shaped like an “L,” with soaring, exposed-beam ceilings that make it feel bigger than it is. One full wall is made entirely of floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a panoramic view of New York City.
I’m on the top floor. Seven stories up. In a building that probably should’ve been condemned twenty years ago… and could honestly collapse at any moment. But at night, the city glows. The skyline twinkles like a thousand tiny stars.
Seeing real stars in the city is rare here. So I settled for the next best thing. The floors creak, the walls are thin, and the radiator barely works, leaving my limbs practically frostbitten in the winter. And of course, there’s a constant draft from the windows.
But it’s beautiful. And it’s mine. A place I can finally call home, and it’s exactly what I need in this season of my life. My full-sized bed sits in the far corner, pressed against the glass. The best seat in the house.
I slide my pink fuzzy house shoes on and shuffle toward the kitchen, my stomach churning with nerves. I load the coffee machine with decaf and tap my fingers against the counter, waiting for the beep. My phone lights up. Still no notifications, no emails.
No call from Heartford.
No mysterious “wish granted” announcement.
Just… nothing.
Silence.
I groan and drag my hand through my tangled hair.
Even with Clint’s recommendation, they still don’t want me. What’s wrong with me? Why am I never enough?
My mind drifts to the first day of boarding school.
I was ten. In gym class, I finally worked up the courage to join the dodgeball game, hoping that just this once, I might make a friend.
But the team captains refused to pick me.
Even after everyone else was chosen, I was still standing there, alone, cheeks burning as my limbs grew heavy and tears began to fall while they laughed.
All I wanted was to join in on the fun. To not be invisible. To feel like I mattered.
But I didn’t matter. I was a crumb on their designer shoes because my uniforms were secondhand. Because my dad was the janitor. Because my mom worked in the cafeteria. Because I really didn’t belong in their world.
Is that why they haven’t called me? Because I don’t belong?
I remember walking home, the weight of my backpack dragging me down, feeling like my ten-year-old heart would never recover from that moment. I was humiliated. I convinced myself that the principal only allowed me to attend the prestigious school because they felt sorry for me. And maybe they did.
And maybe Heartford doesn’t want me because they investigated my past. Perhaps they found out. Maybe they see me as baggage. A risk. Someone who could damage their reputation because of that night.
The night that changed everything. The one that started my panic attacks.
A lump rises in my throat. I can’t swallow. My chest tightens, my heart pounds.
Breathe in for four. Hold out for four.
I press a hand to my chest, waiting for my smartwatch to vibrate in rhythm. The panic simmers, retreating just enough for me to think clearly. I walk over to the full-length mirror and take in my broken appearance.
Okay, Lila. You’ve got this.
Your mom needs you today. Your dad does, too. You don’t have time to spiral out of control. Today, I wear a brave face. The reflection staring back at me isn’t perfect. Not polished. But it’s strong enough to show up. And right now? That’s enough.