A Bitter Gift and Midnight Deal

SIENNA'S POV

I awoke to the rhythmic, heavy warmth of Ronan’s chest against my back. His muscled arm rested heavy and possessive over my bare ribs, trapping me against the solid wall of his body. The harsh morning sunlight spilled across his tangled sheets, acting as an immediate slap of reality. The blinding rays illuminated the dark, masculine room and magnified the sheer weight of what I had done.

My body throbbed with a dull, persistent ache. Memories of our breathless, primal coupling came rushing back into my mind. I remembered the sheer size and rigid thickness of his cock stretching me, the unrelenting force of his thrusts driving me deep into the mattress, and the slick heat of his semen spilling profound and hot inside my core. The scent of him—something wild, earthy, and overwhelmingly intoxicating—clung to my skin.

Panic clutched my throat. A cold sweat broke out along my spine. I had surrendered every ounce of my control to a badboy I barely knew. The vulnerability of remaining in this bed next to him felt far too dangerous to bear.

I moved with quiet stealth. I held my breath and slipped out from under his heavy limb, praying the shift in weight would not wake him. My bare feet met the chilled hardwood floor. I cast a brief, terrified glance over my shoulder. Ronan remained asleep, his massive chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, his dark hair messy against the pillows.

I gathered my scattered clothes from the floor and the nearby rugs. My fingers trembled as I pulled the cold fabric over my sore skin. I did not bother checking the mirror. I grabbed my shoes and fled into the cool dawn before he could open his eyes and confront me in the harsh light of day.

The journey back to the foster house offered zero salvation.

The morning air bit at my exposed cheeks. Each step sent a jolt of anxiety straight up my spine. My mind spiraled in the quiet solitude of the empty streets. I took the winding, indirect paths through the neighborhood. I dreaded running into an early morning jogger or a neighbor who might recognize the walk of shame I was currently executing. The betrayal I had suffered yesterday at the hands of Declan and Kiera remained a fresh, bleeding wound. Waking up in the bed of a stranger only added a layer of chaotic shame to the disaster my life had become.

I reached the large, imposing structure of the foster house. I bypassed the front porch and aimed straight for the back entrance. I twisted the cold brass knob on the back door and crept inside, hoping to slip upstairs unnoticed.

My heart pounded against my ribs. I just needed to reach my bedroom.

Kiera was waiting in the kitchen.

She stood leaning against the marble island, dolled up in a spectacular, extravagant dress for her nineteenth birthday celebration. The pristine white fabric hugged her curves, covered in intricate beadwork that caught the overhead recessed lighting. Her hair fell in perfect, symmetrical waves down her shoulders. Her makeup formed a flawless, glowing mask. The sight of her radiance ignited a sudden flash of pure anger in my chest.

She turned around and spotted me freezing in the doorway.

"Sienna! You didn't even greet me happy birthday."

I locked my jaw. The muscles in my face tightened until they ached. I looked at her with pure disgust, refusing to match her fake energy.

"I don't know what you are trying to pull here. I could not care less. Happy birthday, Kiera."

She pushed off the counter and stepped closer. A vile, insincere expression of sympathy washed over her perfectly contoured face.

"I don't understand why you are being hostile. If it is about yesterday, I am sorry for what happened between Declan and me. But nobody chooses when to fall in love. If it helps, I can break up with him."

My stomach churned at the sheer audacity of her performance. The venomous, calculated sweetness in her voice made my ears ring. She wanted to play the victim, the helpless romantic caught in a tragic love triangle. I refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing me break down. I forced my posture straight and plastered a dead smile across my lips.

"Of course not. Since the birthday perfume I bought you shattered on the locker room floor, you are welcome to keep Declan as my personal gift."

Kiera’s face lit up in a twisted display of fake joy. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around my stiff shoulders in a brief, suffocating hug. The scent of her expensive hairspray filled my nose.

"You are the best sister. Are you coming to the party later?"

I wrenched myself away from her touch, stepping back to put distance between us.

"Is that your game? Play nice and force me to bite?"

She dropped the sweet facade in a heartbeat. The warm sibling routine vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating sneer.

"Oh, grow up, Sienna. The world doesn't revolve around you. Sometimes you lose, and sometimes I win. Deal with it."

I stared into her eyes, searching for any shred of genuine human remorse. Finding none, I went for the truth that had been eating me alive since yesterday.

"Are you really carrying Declan's child?"

A split second of dead silence hung between us. I watched her face closely. Kiera swallowed hard, but I caught the micro-expression hiding just beneath the surface. Her eyes sparkled with a sickening, triumphant spark. The corners of her lips twitched upward in a suppressed smirk. She fought to keep a straight face, but the thrill of her own successful deception leaked out. It was a textbook case of duper's delight. She felt profound pleasure in knowing she had destroyed my reality.

"I am."

Her tone remained steady, but the undercurrent of deep satisfaction made my blood run cold. She was enjoying this pain. She fed on the misery she caused me. I opened my mouth to shoot back a response, but heavy footsteps clicked against the hardwood floor of the foyer.

Myra stormed into the kitchen.

She wore a sharp, tailored navy suit. Her sharp eyes darted between Kiera and me, immediately zeroing in on my disheveled appearance. Her gaze raked over my wrinkled clothes and my tangled hair.

"Slept outside like a cheap tramp. Is that what you have become, Sienna? A cheap tramp?"

The insult hit me right in the chest. Myra never missed an opportunity to remind me that I was garbage in her eyes, merely a charity case she had to tolerate. The sheer unfairness of her double standard pushed me over the edge.

"Kiera has spent dozens of nights in men's beds without consequence, but I do not think you have ever branded her a tramp. Is it because we do not share blood?"

Myra moved faster than I could track. Her palm connected with my left cheek in a blinding flash of kinetic force.

The loud crack of the slap echoed through the massive kitchen. My head snapped to the side. A sharp, stinging burn spread across my skin. The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth as my teeth caught the inside of my cheek. I stumbled back a step, raising a trembling hand to cradle the side of my face.

Myra leveled a finger inches from my nose. Her voice lowered into a dangerous, dark snarl.

"You have been getting emboldened lately. Kiera is young and susceptible to peer pressure. As her elder sister, you should know better. I do not have time for your drama today. Your defiance ends today."

I glared at her through stinging eyes, refusing to drop my gaze.

"Upon my return from Kiera's birthday party, you will be introduced to Gael Mercer. If you want to keep a roof over your head, you will kneel and obey."

The name Gael Mercer struck real terror into my heart. He was an older, ruthless business associate of Myra. The thought of being forced into an arrangement with him, treated like property to be traded, made my stomach violently reject itself.

"There will be no such thing," I spat the words out.

I spun on my heel, ignoring the throbbing pain in my face, and broke into a run. I cleared the stairs two at a time. I reached my bedroom, stepped inside, and slammed the heavy wooden door shut. I threw the deadbolt in place and leaned my back against the wood. My chest heaved. I slid down the door until I hit the floor, curling my knees to my chest. I trembled with rage, pulling my hair in sheer frustration.

I vowed in the darkness of my room to fight the Mercer arrangement to my dying breath. I would burn this house to the ground before I ever knelt for Myra or Gael Mercer.

Hours passed in suffocating silence.

The morning transitioned into the lazy afternoon, and the afternoon faded into early evening. The shadows in my room stretched long and distorted across the floorboards. I sat trapped in my isolation, staring at the blank walls. The walls felt like a prison cell closing in around me. I needed a distraction to stop the spiral of dread consuming my mind.

I reached for my phone on the nightstand. I tortured myself by opening Instagram.

My feed was an endless parade of Kiera’s victory lap. Dozens of glowing stories from my classmates filled the screen. I tapped through the flashing videos. Red cups, flashing strobe lights, loud bass echoing from the speakers. And there they were. Kiera and Declan. They laughed together in the center of a crowded room. Kiera held her drink in one hand and draped her other arm over Declan’s broad shoulders. Declan smiled down at her, looking carefree and happy. The sight of them celebrating their fresh betrayal made my chest physically ache. They paraded their new relationship for the entire school to see, while I cowered in my room with a bruised face.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my palm. The screen shifted away from the story.

An unexpected direct message notification popped up at the top of the interface.

Ronan Adler had followed me.

My heart skipped a beat. I brought the phone closer to my face, staring at the bold letters of his name. He sent a message. I tapped the icon and opened the chat thread, feeling a sudden rush of heat pool in my stomach as I remembered the events of the morning.

**Ronan Adler**: *Hey, how are you holding up? You left really early.*

I stared at the blinking cursor. My thumbs hovered over the keyboard. I had bolted from his bed like a terrified animal. Now he was reaching out, checking on me. I tried to calm the racing of my pulse.

**Me**: *Not great. But thanks for asking.*

I waited. The typing bubbles appeared on the screen almost instantly. He was active. He was watching the chat.

**Ronan Adler**: *Do you need to talk? I'm here if you do.*

I frowned at the screen. The badboy of the college campus wanted to play therapist. The dissonance between his ruthless reputation and this digital concern left me guarded.

**Me**: *Maybe later. Right now, I just need to think.*

The typing indicator vanished, then popped back up and disappeared twice. Finally, a new text block loaded into the thread. The words sent adrenaline spiking straight through my veins.

**Ronan Adler**: *I'm sure you want me to say take your time. But fuck that. I'm at your sister's party. She's all touchy and happy with Declan Hayes. Is he your ex? You never mentioned he was one of ours. A Spartan.*

The phone felt heavy and hot in my hand. The humiliation was crushing.

Ronan Adler was the captain of the Spartan rugby team. He was the undisputed alpha of the campus hierarchy. I had been so caught up in my own misery that I completely forgot the sports connection. Declan played on the team. He answered to Ronan. This meant Ronan stood right there in the middle of Kiera’s party, watching my ex-boyfriend put his hands all over my pregnant sister. To make it worse, Ronan knew the exact timeline. He knew I had just spent the night screaming his name in his bed.

I felt exposed and small. I wanted to throw the phone across the room.

**Me**: *I'm the one who was dropped. Not a lot of people knew we were even together and I would like it to stay that way.*

**Ronan Adler**: *Boring.*

I blinked at the screen. The single-word reply hit like a challenge. He sensed my shame and immediately escalated the game.

**Me**: *Well, I don't want to be the center of drama.*

**Ronan Adler**: *Drama is fun. Plus, you deserve to make them squirm. You in?*

I sat up straight on the edge of the mattress. My suffocating dread shifted, morphing into a sharp, vengeful excitement. Ronan offered a weapon I did not possess on my own. Social leverage. Pure intimidation. If I showed up to Kiera’s party on the arm of the rugby captain, the man Declan worshipped and submitted to on the field, the balance of power would shatter instantly.

**Me**: *What are you suggesting?*

**Ronan Adler**: *Come to the party. Be my date. Let's make them jealous.*

The sheer boldness of the proposition stole the air from my lungs. I pictured the look on Kiera’s face if I walked through the front doors of her extravagant party with Ronan holding my hand. I pictured Declan choking on his drink. For the past twenty-four hours, I had allowed Myra and Kiera to dictate my fate. I had allowed them to beat me down, slap my face, and plan my future with Gael Mercer.

I refused to cower in my room while my betrayers celebrated their victory.

**Me**: *And how do you plan to pull this off?*

**Ronan Adler**: *Easy. I’ll pick you up, we make an entrance, and then we stick close together. Trust me, it’ll be fun. 😉*

The wink emoji mocked my hesitation. I gripped the phone tight enough to make my knuckles turn white. I could stay here and cry in the dark, or I could take the badboy up on his offer and ruin the greatest night of Kiera’s life. The choice was not a difficult one to make. I fed the sudden fire burning in my chest.

**Me**: *Fine. When?*

His reply was instant, demanding and full of authority.

**Ronan Adler**: *In an hour. Be ready.*