I shoved my phone into my pocket and reached for the front door. The second I stepped inside, I called out, "I'm home!"
It was late, yeah, but knowing Julie, she was definitely still awake — probably in some room getting wrecked by the gardener, the gatekeeper, or some crusty old sugar daddy. I shut the door behind me, not even trying to be quiet about it.
"Julie!" I called again, voice echoing through the hallway.
No answer.
I started up the stairs and that's when I heard it — loud, breathy moans coming from one of the spare rooms we barely used. I stopped dead in my tracks, sighed, and dragged a hand down my face.
"You've got to be kidding me…"
I stomped over and banged hard on the door. "Julie! What the fuck?!"
The moaning died down in an instant. A moment later, the door cracked open, and there she was — wrapped in nothing but a damn blanket, her lipstick smudged and her curls all over the place.
"Baby, you're home," she said with a grin. "Did you have fun?"
I scoffed, completely over it. "I'm going to my room."
"Okay, honey. Goodnight," she chimed, like she hadn't just been getting railed two seconds ago, and shut the door again with the fakest sweet smile.
This was my life.
After my father found out I liked guys, he didn't even hesitate — cut me off completely. Disowned me like I was some stranger. As far as the Almasi family was concerned, I was dead weight, a disappointment they wanted nothing to do with. All of them — my uncles, cousins, even the help — looked at me like I was nothing.
The only one who might've stood up for me was my mom. But she was gone. I didn't even like thinking about her too much. It hurt more than I was willing to admit.
Julie — the youngest of the Almasi siblings — was the only one who stepped in. Not because she was responsible. No, God no. But maybe because she saw something in me… or maybe because she just liked chaos.
Whatever the case, here I was. Seventeen, disowned, and somehow already a successful entrepreneur. My company was doing pretty damn well, even if no one in the family wanted to acknowledge it. I was still an Almasi, whether they liked it or not. And Almasis didn't fail.
Still… despite all that… my heart wasn't in any of it tonight.
My thoughts drifted back to him. The one who started it all — the first person who made my chest ache in ways I didn't understand until much later. The first boy I ever fell for. The one who made me feel seen… and then vanished like a ghost.
I'd been searching for him ever since.
Not just following some gut instinct. No, I did my research. Yearbooks, competition records, old school festival videos — anything I could get my hands on. It became an obsession. I'd transferred schools more times than I could count, dragging myself through unfamiliar classrooms and fake smiles just to chase a shadow of a maybe.
Every time I thought I was close, I'd hit another dead end.
But this time felt different.
A blurry photo from a middle school sports day three years ago. A boy in the background with the same smile I could never forget. The logo on his hoodie read Silvermist Middle. That was the lead that finally brought me here — Silvermist High.
And if he really did move up the way most students did, then this might be my last chance.
Tomorrow, I'd be starting my final year. New school. New people. Same mission.
I didn't care about grades or school rankings. I'd already built my own thing — my company was thriving, no matter what the Almasis thought. But this?
This was personal.
I was going to find him.
No matter what it took.
_ _ _
The next day couldn't have come soon enough.
Sleep was impossible. My brain wouldn't shut up—thoughts crashing over each other like waves in a storm. What if this was all for nothing? What if I transferred to Silvermist High, only to find… nothing? No familiar smile. No clue. Just another dead end in a string of false hopes.
Maybe I should just quit. Let it go. Accept that the ghost I've been chasing isn't real anymore.
Or worse, maybe just give in to Theo—he's safe, predictable, and actually wants me.
Or maybe I'll end up like Julie. Chasing men twice my age just to feel alive.
Speak of the devil—Julie barged into my room like she paid rent. (She didn't.)
I was already halfway dressed, fumbling with my tie when she walked in without so much as a knock.
"Don't you ever knock, woman?" I muttered, not even looking at her.
She breezed right past my tone like it didn't exist, smiled that signature messy-smug Julie smile, and planted a kiss on my cheek. "I just came to check on my little Venus flytrap."
"…Excuse me?" I blinked, unsure whether to be offended, flattered, or concerned.
She just laughed, patted my back, and headed toward the hallway. "Have fun at school, dear! Oh, by the way—I'll be taking my car out today."
Of course she was.
We had two cars in the driveway. The sleek black Aston Martin DB11, all curves and power, technically belonged to her—but I loved driving it more than life itself. Mine? A very respectable Toyota Supra GR—fast, smooth, and reliable, but next to hers? I might as well show up in a shopping cart.
Julie jingled the keys in her hand with a smug little smirk.
"Seriously?" I groaned.
"Yep." She winked like I should thank her.
Julie was spoiled rotten by her older brothers. Never worked a day in her life, but could walk into any dealership, point at something, and have it gift-wrapped by the next hour. The Almasi boys worshipped her—she was their baby sister, after all. Rich, reckless, and untouchable.
Still… she wasn't all bad.
Annoying? Yes. Drama queen? Absolutely. But she took me in when no one else did. She might've done it for the chaos, but at least she cared.
Her only real flaw?
She had this thing for older men. And I don't mean "a few years older." I mean divorced twice and owns a yacht older. Would it kill her to try dating someone from her own generation?
Whatever. Not my business.
I grabbed my keys, sighed, and headed out.
Today was the day.
Silvermist High.
And if fate was real, the boy I'd been chasing across half the damn city would be waiting behind one of those doors.
Let's see if you're real… or just a memory that refuses to die.