Chapter 3 Ella

His ocean-blue eyes were calm only at first glance. Beneath that still surface hid a thousand storms. They carried the chill of deep water and the pull of tides you couldn’t resist. There was something wild in his gaze, something that promised both safety and ruin. The kind of eyes that could drown you softly, leaving you unsure if you even wanted to be saved.

He wore a perfectly tailored black suit that hugged his frame just right, the crisp fabric contrasting with the raw, rebellious aura he carried. His jet-black hair was slicked back neatly, not a strand out of place. I couldn’t help but notice the sharp contrast between his biker look from yesterday and the man standing before me now refined, powerful, and dangerously composed.

He was too attractive for his own good. I’ll give him that. His chiseled jawline and that quiet confidence made him stand out like a CEO walking into a boardroom commanding attention without trying.

“If he’s this rich, why would he still be a biker?” I frowned slightly at the thought. My thoughts shattered the moment I caught the faint smirk curling on his lips,arrogant, knowing. It snapped me back to reality.

“Done staring?” he asked, his voice smooth but cold, cutting through the air like a shard of glass. “You might as well take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

I glared at him, irritation spilling through before I could stop it. “Jerk,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.

He didn’t react, didn’t even pretend to care. If he heard me, he hid it well, like he was above being bothered. His girlfriend, however, laughed softly, clearly entertained by my defiance.

Without another word, I spun on my heel and walked away, ignoring the way my heart hammered in my chest.

“Help me take table four’s order,” I said to Sophia, refusing to meet her curious gaze. She blinked at me, surprised, but nodded and went off to handle it.

I exhaled slowly, pressing a hand to my apron. He might be dangerously attractive, but I still had my pride.

When Sophia returned, a knowing smile played on her lips, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she gave my arm a gentle squeeze—a quiet I know, that spoke louder than words.

By the time our shift ended, I was beyond exhausted. My feet ached, and all I wanted was a hot bath and my bed.

“I’m exhausted,” Sophia groaned, echoing my thoughts as we walked down the quiet evening street. Neon lights shimmered above us, and the faint scent of rain lingered in the air.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured suddenly, pointing ahead.

I followed her gaze—and rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. “The Dubois family,” I muttered, the words tasting bitter.

A massive billboard loomed above us, glowing against the night sky:

The Dubois Family — La Belle Étoile: A Legacy of Excellence.

The ad was sleek, polished, dripping with wealth. The Dubois family commanded the most celebrated restaurant empire in France. Their flagship, La Belle Étoile, was a sanctuary of elegance,Michelin-star cuisine, velvet service, and an air of untouchable prestige. Their reach stretched far beyond France: restaurants, clubs, hotels. Wherever the Dubois crest appeared, power followed.

“I would love to dine there one day,” Sophia sighed dreamily. “Dressed elegantly, sipping champagne, pretending I’m rich.”

I gave her a flat look. “I’d rather eat a burger from McDonald’s than dine in that pretentious place.”

Sophia laughed softly. “The way you talk about that family… it’s like they did something unforgivable to you.”

I didn’t answer. My eyes lingered on the glowing billboard, on the smiling faces that represented everything I’d once known, everything I’d lost.

She had no idea how right she was.

We got home, and I soaked in the tub until my muscles stopped screaming. Halfway through, I heard a sudden shriek from the living room.

It was Sophia’s voice.

Heart racing, I wrapped a towel around myself and rushed out, slipping on the wet floor. I found her screaming,this time from excitement.

“God, you scared me!” I gasped, clutching my chest. “What’s going on?”

“Open your email!” she yelled, bouncing on her toes. “I just got my acceptance letter!”

“Letter to wh—” The realization hit me mid-sentence. My heart flipped. “You got admitted to Havenbrook?!” I shrieked.

She nodded wildly, grinning from ear to ear. “Check yours!”

Suddenly, my nerves twisted into knots. My fingers trembled as I unlocked my phone. Sophia hovered beside me, as tense as I was. I took a deep breath and opened my email.

The word Accepted shone boldly in the middle of the screen.

A scream tore from my throat before I could stop it. “Oh my God! Is this real? We’re going to Havenbrook!”

We jumped, hugged, screamed again,until our voices went hoarse. Havenbrook Fashion Academy. The Havenbrook. The dream we’d whispered about under cheap lights and long shifts was finally real.

Hours later, the apartment was quiet. My body felt light, floating on joy as I drifted into sleep.

I was on the dance floor,laughing, spinning, and drunk on freedom. Music pounded through the room, lights flashing in colors that made everything look unreal. My friends surrounded me, swaying and laughing, until I felt unfamiliar hands grip my waist.

I turned and saw a young man behind me. His smile was smug, his eyes glinting. We danced for a moment until his hands slid lower, his touch no longer playful but invasive. I pushed him off, but he persisted, his smirk darkening.

Without thinking, I slapped him. Hard.

He froze,shock flashing across his face before twisting into fury. My friends had disappeared; the crowd blurred. Fear spiked in my chest.

Before he could raise his hand, another fist struck first. The sound of impact was sharp, brutal.

My brother.

Antoine stood over the guy, breathing hard, his knuckles bleeding. “What would I do with you?” he sighed, shaking his head. “We’re going home. Now.”

He dragged me out, still fuming, while I giggled drunkenly beside him.

“You know I had it under control,” I mumbled, half-laughing.

“Yeah, right. Eighteen-year-old you, handling a creep twice your size?” His sarcasm made me snort.

“Roll down the window,” I groaned, suddenly nauseous. I barely managed to lean out before throwing up. The night air stung my face.

Antoine cursed softly, reaching for the handkerchief in the glove box.

Then it happened.

A blinding flash. Headlights. A roar of tires against wet asphalt.

“Antoine!” I screamed.

The other car came out of nowhere,too fast, too close.

Antoine jerked the steering wheel hard to the right. The world tilted. Tires screeched. My scream tore through the chaos as metal screamed against metal. The car spun, then slammed,violently into a tree.

Glass shattered like falling stars. The airbag exploded in my face, the force knocking the breath from my lungs.

“Antoine!” I choked, tasting blood. My vision swam, everything spinning, distant. I tried to move, but my limbs felt heavy,pinned.

“Antoine!!” I tried again, weaker this time.

No answer. Just the faint hiss of the engine, the smell of gasoline, and the metallic tang of blood.

Something warm trickled down my forehead. My vision dimmed.

The last

thing I saw before darkness claimed me…

was a pair of cold, blue eyes watching from the blur of shattered glass.