Chapter 91
Georgia’s face flushed with a sudden, unspoken discomfort, a visceral rejection burning beneath her skin at Charlotte’s words. She quickly shook off the accusation, almost defensively. “Charlotte, I haven’t changed.”
But Charlotte’s eyes held a sharp, knowing gaze. She leaned forward, voice low but insistent, “Georgia, haven’t you noticed? The hardness in your expression has softened. Before, all I saw was that dull, lifeless mask–you were like a ghost wandering through your own skin. Now, I see something else. Something almost… human. You’re starting to look like a living person again.”
Georgia parted her lips to protest, to deny the subtle truth in Charlotte’s observation, but no words came.
“Georgia, who do you think is responsible for this change? Larkin?” Charlotte’s tone soured, her eyes narrowing with suspicion rather than happiness. “Because if it’s him, you need to be careful. That man…. he’s trouble. I want you to be happy–truly happy. But Larkin? He’s the last person who should be walking beside you. He’s dangerous. He’ll hurt you again, I swear it.”
Silence stretched between them like a fragile, cracking bridge.
Charlotte sighed, the sound heavy with frustration and worry. “Promise me, Georgia. Promise me you won’t see him again. I’ll find you a new dorm today–somewhere safe.”
“No!” The word came out sharper than she intended, her eyes snapping upward, Charlotte’s face fell into an expression of disappointment so profound it left Georgia’s heart twisting. She clenched her fists tightly at her sides.
“I don’t want to move,” she said fiercely. “I promise, once I have that million dollars, I’ll never see him again.”
Charlotte’s teeth clenched, and her voice rose, trembling with emotion, “Georgia, I hope you won’t regret this.”
Without waiting for a response, Charlotte stormed out of the office, leaving Georgia standing alone in the cold, sterile room. Her voice lingered in the air like a bitter echo, a weight pressing against Georgia’s chest.”
Chapter Unlocked, Enjoy Reading! She knew. Of course she knew. Larkin had his she felt drawn to him, to the sharp thrill of life he stirred inside her.
He was a poison. Yet, despite knowing this,
‘I’m greedy,‘ Georgia admitted silently. “I want to feel alive again, like everyone else.”
She knew she should keep him at arm’s length. She should guard herself against his dangerous pull. But he had cracked open the frozen shell she had built around herself for years, and suddenly, she was vulnerable. The scar on her forehead, once untouchable, was no longer a barrier but a testament to her fragile hope.
Maybe scars could be touched–pain could be endured–if it meant reclaiming even a sliver of life.
And what about Larkin? Could she forget him? Could he fade away like the scar’s sting? Could her tangled feelings of love and hate unravel into riothingness?
She knew he was poison, but she accepted that venom willingly. Not because of love, but because after years trapped in darkness, she longed desperately for sunlight.
The changes had begun with those kisses Larkin pressed onto her scar each night before he left.
The deadline she and Preston had set loomed dangerously close. On the second to last day, Larkin was already preparing to leave when she called out softly, her voice rough from disuse. “Wait.”
He paused, turning slowly to face her. His expression was patient, expectant. Though she had not spoken, it was clear he noticed her hesitation, the weight pressing down on her.
Georgia’s hands trembled as she stood before him, slick with nervous sweat. The clammy feeling made her skin crawl, but she forced herself to speak.
“What is it? Miss Cooper, talk to me. I’m listening,” he said smoothly, his elegant presence both comforting and unnerving.
<Chapter 41
He looked down, startled, and saw her fingers clutching at the fabric. With her other hand, she swept back the stray bangs that had fallen across her scar. She didn’t meet his eyes.
Under the dim dormitory light, her pale face remained lowered, cheeks hollowed by anxiety. Slowly, she lifted her bangs again, exposing the jagged scar. Then, with barely a whisper, she said, “One hundred thousand dollars, Mr. Nash, I want an advance.”
A slow smile spread across his lips, cold and sharp. “The game’s over, Miss Cooper. You’re worthless now.
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