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CHAPTER ONE

ALLY- PRESENT DAY

“Earth to Ally.”

Yasmin’s voice slices through my spiralling thoughts like a well-aimed dart, snapping me back to the chaos of Grumpy’s.

It’s the usual Thursday night crowd. I'm surrounded by beer-fuelled laughter, glasses clinking, and someone’s off-key attempt at karaoke in the back corner—but all of it blurs into white noise around me. I keep looking at the other side of the table.

To where Rhys is sitting.

With her tucked under his arm like she belongs there.

Ashley Slade: blonde, beautiful, untouchable. And very much not his.

Not really.

Everyone might see them as the golden couple—him, the brooding Gilmore boy with too many secrets behind those stormy eyes; her, the Slade princess who floats through life like she doesn’t know her last name could get you killed—but I know better.

We all do.

We’ve just gotten very good at pretending, especially since finding out the truth about their relationship and the reasons why they are together.

Yasmin nudges me under the table with her foot. Hard.

“You okay?” she asks, leaning in with that same look she gives Chase when he’s bullshitting her. Concern, laced with just enough sass to say don’t lie to me .

I force a smile, more a grimace than genuine. “I’m fine.”

Liar, liar, heart on fire.

Yasmin isn’t buying it; obviously she knows me better than that. Her gaze pins me in place — soft but unrelenting. She doesn’t push, though. Instead, she drapes an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into a sideways hug that smells like strawberries and cream and tequila shots. We’ve made Thursday nights at Grumpy’s a tradition. A way to catch up and unwind. It was something that Arden insisted on, especially when we all have conflicting schedules with university and work. We see each other every day at home, living together in the house that Arden renovated for us, but this gives us a chance just to chat and spend some quality time together.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” Yasmin murmurs so only I can hear her.

God, I love her for that. I know that, but at this point, pretending I’m okay is the only thing I can do to stop my friends from worrying about me.

She’s our glue. Yasmin was the missing piece in our little group and watching her with Chase sparks both hope and a fierce, biting jealousy—a painful reminder of what I might never have.

It hurts.

I close my eyes and lean into her, breathing her in like maybe she can absorb all the bitter jealousy pooling in my chest.

And then—because fate loves drama—Ashley’s phone vibrates on the table.

It’s just a buzz. A small, everyday sound. But the way she hesitates before answering sends ice through my veins. The surrounding air thickens with dread. All our conversations stop, our attention on Ashley.

We all know the ruthless nature of her family—the Slades, untouchable in New Hope, feared even by the worst of the worst. They are the chains that trapped Ashley in this doomed arrangement with Rhys.

“Hello?” Ashley’s voice is a trembling whisper. The conversation on the other end is muffled, but soon, her face pales as if drained of blood; her hand grips the phone until it turns white. My heart pounds—a warning drumbeat of impending disaster.

“What?” she asks, her voice barely audible. Rhys leans forward instantly, concern etched on his face, his hand falling protectively on her back. It’s instinct—his role as her shield, even if the love he shows her is nothing more than duty. And in that moment, watching him, I’m reminded of how deeply she’s entangled with him in ways I’ll never grasp. Ashley’s breathing quickens, her eyes glazing over before she cuts the call. “Dad’s dead,” she mutters to us.

Time doesn’t just stop; it collapses around us.

“What?” Arden’s voice cracks the silence, too loud and sharp. A few heads turn from nearby tables. Ella’s drink wobbles, seriously close to spilling.

Ashley’s gaze stays fixed on the table. “He was murdered.” She swallows, blinking rapidly. “My brother Jasper just called.”

My stomach drops. This isn’t good.

Tony Slade—Ashley’s father—isn’t just dead. He was murdered. And in New Hope, that doesn’t just mean loss; it means war. Her father was feared by almost everyone and hated by most.

Before any of us can speak, the doors to Grumpy’s burst open.

Two police officers enter and head straight towards us.

Dominic, our neighbour, leads the way. He’s usually got this lazy, charming swagger. Tonight, it’s gone. His jaw is tight. His eyes flicker to Ashley, then land on Arden. Dominic became a friend when he moved into the neighbourhood and started dating our neighbour Isabelle.

“Arden,” he pronounces, voice carefully neutral. “You need to come with us.”

Arden doesn’t flinch. Just leans back in his chair, arms folded in his typical Arden way. “Why?”

Dominic’s partner shifts beside him uncomfortably, hand twitching near her belt. The entire room is silent, watching everything unfold. I can feel their stares.

“You’re a suspect in the murder of Tony Slade.”

The silence doesn’t break—it shatters. Commotion erupts around us.

Ella’s up in a flash, drink crashing to the floor. “You have got to be fucking kidding me!”

I catch Logan walking around from behind the bar, phone at his ear, no doubt calling Ralph, Arden’s head of security, to let him know what’s going on.

“Why would Arden kill Ashley’s dad?” Ella demands. “That’s insane.”

Dominic sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s aged ten years in five minutes. “I didn’t want to do this. But if it wasn’t me, someone else would’ve come in and made a scene. When the call came in, I knew it would be better if I came. Please don’t make this harder.” Dominic is right; it is better that it’s him here, but it still doesn’t make it right.

Arden drains the last of his beer, then stands, calm as ever. “Let’s get it over with.”

Ella grabs his sleeve. “You can’t just go with them!” she pleads with him. None of this makes any sense. We only just got the call, and Arden isn’t the type to kill someone. Destroy you with his money? Sure. But murder? Definitely not Arden. He’s afraid of germs and carries hand sanitiser with him everywhere. He won’t even get in an Uber.

We had been trying to think of ways to get Rhys and Ashley out of their arrangement, so my guess is someone found out that Arden was digging around and wanted to shift the blame.

Arden kisses the top of Ella’s head, and my heart pangs with jealousy again. “It’s okay. I’ll be back,” he reassures her.

Ella looks like she might cry, which is saying something because Ella doesn’t cry. She kicks things. She throws shoes. She cuts up people’s bow ties. She doesn’t fall apart in public.

“I’m coming with you,” she declares, fire in her voice.

“No, babe. Go home.” Arden’s focus shifts to Chase. “Make sure she does.” Chase nods, staying quiet. He moves to Ella’s side, but Yasmin beats him to her. She pulls Ella into a hug and whispers something in her ear.

“I’m going with you,” Rhys interrupts. He’s already pushing back from the table.

“That’s not a good idea.” Dominic levels Rhys with a stare.

“Arden is entitled to a lawyer. You can’t stop me,” Rhys retorts while grabbing his phone from the table.

“You’re not even a lawyer yet,” Dominic mutters.

Rhys’s voice turns to steel. “I’m close enough. Arden needs representation. He gets me.”

Dominic hesitates, but it’s already a done deal. Rhys and Arden fall into step with the officers, disappearing through the door.

I don’t breathe until Rhys returns—just for a moment—and crouches beside me. His eyes meet mine, and it’s like being slammed against the wall. I can see all the emotions waging a war in his eyes; they are the only thing that clues me in to what he is feeling. Everything else about him screams, calm and in control.

“I need you to stay with Ashley,” he murmurs. “You are the only one I trust to look after her.”

The words land like a dagger in my chest.

I shouldn’t be this girl. The one who nods and sacrifices and bleeds quietly on the sidelines for the boy she’ll never have. But I am. Because I love him.

I always have.

I nod. It’s the only thing I can do.

Rhys squeezes my hand. Then he’s gone, disappearing through the door again.

Looking over at Ashley, I see her lips tremble. She looks like she’s barely holding herself together.

I slide out of my chair and wrap an arm around her shoulders, “Let’s get you home.” I don’t want to do this, but I will because Rhys asked me to.

She nods, silent and small. I lead us out into the night, our group trailing behind us.

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

It was just a typical night out for us.

But now everything has changed.

Nothing will ever be the same again.