His for a year. - Chapter 33: Chapter 33
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As I walked into the corridor that led to my wing, my steps slowed when I noticed a figure heading in the opposite direction.
Anna.
The moment our eyes met, my spine stiffened, but Anna didn’t even blink. Instead, a smug smile curled on her lips as she brushed past me, the scent of her heavy perfume lingering in the air.
“Funny seeing you here,” Anna murmured without stopping. “I was just visiting your soon-to-be former space. Can’t believe they let you stay this long. But I warned you, didn’t I?” She turned slightly, her voice dropping to a mocking hush. “Nothing good ever grows from a rotten tree. Murderers don’t raise saints.”
I clenched my fists, my heart hammered in my chest. “You’re not going to get away with this. Whatever you did to make Amanda talk will be exposed one day.” I said quietly, trying to steady my voice. “I was the victim. And I’ve had to live with that trauma forever. Maybe it’s time the whole truth came out.”
Anna snorted a dry, mean laugh. “Oh, sweet girl. That little sob story won’t save you. You think baring your soul will earn you pity? You think people want the truth?” She leaned in, her voice dripping venom. “They want a villain. And right now, you fit the costume perfectly.”
Before I could respond, a door creaked open.
Eloise.
Elegant as always in her pearl earrings, she stepped out of the hallway connecting the main building to our wing, her expression unreadable.
“What’s going on here?” Eloise’s eyes drifted between Anna and I, pausing a beat longer on me. “Do I have to ask again why anyone is lurking around my son's wing?”
Anna blinked, straightening quickly. “Oh, I was just—”
“I didn’t ask you,” Eloise cut in sharply. Then she turned back to me. “You want to prove you’re not trash? Good. Then at least speak for yourself—just once—before I personally see you out the gate. Join us for dinner in the main building tonight. Seven sharp. Let’s see if you can handle a real audience.”
And just like that, she walked away, heels clicking authoritatively against the marble floor, leaving a cloud of power and cold disdain behind.
Anna smiled faintly, satisfied. “Better dress like a ghost. Maybe then you’ll finally fit the role you’ve been dying to play.”
She walked off.
I stood frozen for a second, my stomach knotting into itself. I didn’t know what was worse—the cold war with Zade, the silence after the exposure, or this constant venom spat at me like I deserved every bit of it. My hands were shaking again.
I got to my room, pushed the door open and stepped in.
The closet… looked off. The doors were ajar, light spilling out from the edges. I walked slowly toward it, the eerie quiet pressing into my ears.
When I swung it open, I saw all the clothes folded neatly and stacked into labeled boxes. The designer shoes were in their velvet pouches, shoved into moving bags like afterthoughts. The makeup, jewelry, bags— all packed. My personal belongings lay scattered in plain boxes.
Someone had taken the liberty of erasing me before I’d even left.
I scoffed quietly to myself, but the sting came anyway, sharp and bitter. They really want me out that badly.
Anna. Eloise.
I turned from the closet, my eyes blurry, body numb, and began sorting through the boxes to get a dress I could wear for dinner of my confessions.
_ _ _
I paused at the archway, drawing in a deep breath. Every cell in my body trembled with hesitation, but I took the step forward anyway. My heels echoed on the glossy floor as I moved toward the long, glossy mahogany table—set immaculately with polished silverware, crystal goblets, and the judging eyes of the Avner family.
Eloise looked up from her glass of wine first. She was sitting at the head of the table in a black silk dress and her signature pearls. Her gaze sliced through the room with expert precision.
“You’re late,” she said, setting down her glass. Her voice was flat, but the insult behind it cut deep. “Of course. That’s exactly the kind of behavior that proves why you’ll never be an Avner. Besides the obvious fact that you’re a—”
“Murderer,” Zara whispered under her breath with a smirk.
My throat tightened, but I ignored the jab and sat down at the far end of the table. A maid quietly poured water into the glass in front of me. No one said a word.
I looked at the folded napkin, gathered what was left of my composure, and finally said, “Thank you… for agreeing to listen. I know none of you have a reason to believe me. But I want to speak anyway.”
Zara laughed dryly. “Wow. So now we’re doing monologues at dinner?”
“Let her talk,” Zade's Uncle said, across from her.
I nodded at him gratefully and took a shaky breath.
“I was seventeen when my father disappeared. My mom was already struggling before that—after he left, she just... broke. Became a drunk. A drug addict. We had no one. No family. No food. No money. And I had a little sister who needed me.” I paused, fingers tightening around the base of my glass. “So I did the only thing I could think of. I lied about my age, forged an ID, and started stripping at an underground club. I wore a mask. I didn’t even use my name. No one knew who I was. But I made enough to pay rent. To pay for school. To keep my family alive.”
Silence filled the room. Even Zara wasn’t smirking anymore.
Guess they're human too.
“There were weird men. Obsessed ones. But I always escaped. Until one night... a man who’d been tipping me so much followed me home. He tried to rape me. I fought back. Hit him. He fell and hit his head. He... died.”
Eloise’s face was unreadable. Zara’s eyes wid
ened, but her mouth twisted in disbelief.
“My boss disposed of the body. Paid the girls who saw to keep quiet. I didn’t ask him to, he just… did. Only a few people knew.”
Zade's uncle leaned forward. “Touching. But where’s your proof? Your receipts? A confession won’t save you, Olive.”
Zara chimed in, “I mean, words are pretty cheap, right? Especially from someone with a track record like yours.”
“That’s all you have?” Eloise pressed coldly. “A sob story? This dinner was a waste.”
My heart clenched. I opened my mouth to say something—anything—when suddenly—
Bang.
The dining room doors flew open.
Everyone turned at once.
Zade stood there.
In rolled-up, wrinkled sleeves, his chest rising and falling like he’d just sprinted across the estate. Behind him stood Leo, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
I blinked. My heart skipped.
Zade’s eyes scanned the room—ignoring the stiff silence, ignoring the tension—and landed on me.
He didn’t look angry. He didn’t look surprised. He looked like a man who had just walked through fire and come out breathing smoke.
And he said, voice low but firm.
"She's not lying."
Anna.
The moment our eyes met, my spine stiffened, but Anna didn’t even blink. Instead, a smug smile curled on her lips as she brushed past me, the scent of her heavy perfume lingering in the air.
“Funny seeing you here,” Anna murmured without stopping. “I was just visiting your soon-to-be former space. Can’t believe they let you stay this long. But I warned you, didn’t I?” She turned slightly, her voice dropping to a mocking hush. “Nothing good ever grows from a rotten tree. Murderers don’t raise saints.”
I clenched my fists, my heart hammered in my chest. “You’re not going to get away with this. Whatever you did to make Amanda talk will be exposed one day.” I said quietly, trying to steady my voice. “I was the victim. And I’ve had to live with that trauma forever. Maybe it’s time the whole truth came out.”
Anna snorted a dry, mean laugh. “Oh, sweet girl. That little sob story won’t save you. You think baring your soul will earn you pity? You think people want the truth?” She leaned in, her voice dripping venom. “They want a villain. And right now, you fit the costume perfectly.”
Before I could respond, a door creaked open.
Eloise.
Elegant as always in her pearl earrings, she stepped out of the hallway connecting the main building to our wing, her expression unreadable.
“What’s going on here?” Eloise’s eyes drifted between Anna and I, pausing a beat longer on me. “Do I have to ask again why anyone is lurking around my son's wing?”
Anna blinked, straightening quickly. “Oh, I was just—”
“I didn’t ask you,” Eloise cut in sharply. Then she turned back to me. “You want to prove you’re not trash? Good. Then at least speak for yourself—just once—before I personally see you out the gate. Join us for dinner in the main building tonight. Seven sharp. Let’s see if you can handle a real audience.”
And just like that, she walked away, heels clicking authoritatively against the marble floor, leaving a cloud of power and cold disdain behind.
Anna smiled faintly, satisfied. “Better dress like a ghost. Maybe then you’ll finally fit the role you’ve been dying to play.”
She walked off.
I stood frozen for a second, my stomach knotting into itself. I didn’t know what was worse—the cold war with Zade, the silence after the exposure, or this constant venom spat at me like I deserved every bit of it. My hands were shaking again.
I got to my room, pushed the door open and stepped in.
The closet… looked off. The doors were ajar, light spilling out from the edges. I walked slowly toward it, the eerie quiet pressing into my ears.
When I swung it open, I saw all the clothes folded neatly and stacked into labeled boxes. The designer shoes were in their velvet pouches, shoved into moving bags like afterthoughts. The makeup, jewelry, bags— all packed. My personal belongings lay scattered in plain boxes.
Someone had taken the liberty of erasing me before I’d even left.
I scoffed quietly to myself, but the sting came anyway, sharp and bitter. They really want me out that badly.
Anna. Eloise.
I turned from the closet, my eyes blurry, body numb, and began sorting through the boxes to get a dress I could wear for dinner of my confessions.
_ _ _
I paused at the archway, drawing in a deep breath. Every cell in my body trembled with hesitation, but I took the step forward anyway. My heels echoed on the glossy floor as I moved toward the long, glossy mahogany table—set immaculately with polished silverware, crystal goblets, and the judging eyes of the Avner family.
Eloise looked up from her glass of wine first. She was sitting at the head of the table in a black silk dress and her signature pearls. Her gaze sliced through the room with expert precision.
“You’re late,” she said, setting down her glass. Her voice was flat, but the insult behind it cut deep. “Of course. That’s exactly the kind of behavior that proves why you’ll never be an Avner. Besides the obvious fact that you’re a—”
“Murderer,” Zara whispered under her breath with a smirk.
My throat tightened, but I ignored the jab and sat down at the far end of the table. A maid quietly poured water into the glass in front of me. No one said a word.
I looked at the folded napkin, gathered what was left of my composure, and finally said, “Thank you… for agreeing to listen. I know none of you have a reason to believe me. But I want to speak anyway.”
Zara laughed dryly. “Wow. So now we’re doing monologues at dinner?”
“Let her talk,” Zade's Uncle said, across from her.
I nodded at him gratefully and took a shaky breath.
“I was seventeen when my father disappeared. My mom was already struggling before that—after he left, she just... broke. Became a drunk. A drug addict. We had no one. No family. No food. No money. And I had a little sister who needed me.” I paused, fingers tightening around the base of my glass. “So I did the only thing I could think of. I lied about my age, forged an ID, and started stripping at an underground club. I wore a mask. I didn’t even use my name. No one knew who I was. But I made enough to pay rent. To pay for school. To keep my family alive.”
Silence filled the room. Even Zara wasn’t smirking anymore.
Guess they're human too.
“There were weird men. Obsessed ones. But I always escaped. Until one night... a man who’d been tipping me so much followed me home. He tried to rape me. I fought back. Hit him. He fell and hit his head. He... died.”
Eloise’s face was unreadable. Zara’s eyes wid
ened, but her mouth twisted in disbelief.
“My boss disposed of the body. Paid the girls who saw to keep quiet. I didn’t ask him to, he just… did. Only a few people knew.”
Zade's uncle leaned forward. “Touching. But where’s your proof? Your receipts? A confession won’t save you, Olive.”
Zara chimed in, “I mean, words are pretty cheap, right? Especially from someone with a track record like yours.”
“That’s all you have?” Eloise pressed coldly. “A sob story? This dinner was a waste.”
My heart clenched. I opened my mouth to say something—anything—when suddenly—
Bang.
The dining room doors flew open.
Everyone turned at once.
Zade stood there.
In rolled-up, wrinkled sleeves, his chest rising and falling like he’d just sprinted across the estate. Behind him stood Leo, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
I blinked. My heart skipped.
Zade’s eyes scanned the room—ignoring the stiff silence, ignoring the tension—and landed on me.
He didn’t look angry. He didn’t look surprised. He looked like a man who had just walked through fire and come out breathing smoke.
And he said, voice low but firm.
"She's not lying."
End of His for a year. Chapter 33. Continue reading Chapter 34 or return to His for a year. book page.