Ruin Me Slowly

Chapter 1

“If I’m going to ruin my life, I might as well enjoy the fire.”

I whispered the words to myself as I stood outside Empire, the hottest club in the city. A line of paparazzi waited just beyond the velvet rope, their cameras flashing every time a celebrity stepped out of a black SUV. I tightened the straps of my black dress, adjusted the slit that rode too high, and plastered on a smile I didn’t feel.

Tonight wasn’t about fun.

It was about revenge.

Not against an ex.

Against my father.

Graduating from Columbia should’ve been the proudest moment of my life. I worked hard. No skipping classes. No parties. I wrote my thesis on youth migration and aced every exam. I even wore the damn cap and gown, hoping—just hoping—he’d show up.

He didn’t.

Instead, that night, I came home and found him in his office, sipping whiskey like nothing had happened.

“I graduated today,” I said quietly.

He didn’t even look up from his glass. “And?”

“And I thought you’d come.”

That was when he finally met my eyes—cold, bored, irritated. “You wasted four years studying things that don’t make money. Forgive me if I didn’t feel the need to clap for that.”

I froze in the doorway. “I did what I loved.”

“And what you loved won’t feed you, Jane.” He slammed the glass down. “You think the world cares about your little causes? You should’ve gone into business. Like I told you. Instead, you’re playing savior.”

“You told me what you wanted. Not what I wanted.”

He stood, slowly. Walked over to me until he was close enough to smell the disappointment rolling off him like cheap cologne.

“You’re just like your mother,” he hissed. “Weak. Stupid. Emotional.”

That one cut. It always did.

“She left because of you,” I snapped before I could stop myself.

His jaw tightened. “No. She left because she realized she’d given birth to a mistake.”

I didn’t cry.

Not in front of him.

I waited until I was alone in my room, diploma in hand, wondering why I still tried to make him proud.

So yeah, tonight wasn’t just about glitter and drinks and music.

It was about chaos.

If the paparazzi caught me inside Empire—wrapped around Carter King, the golden boy billionaire with a new girl every week—it’d be front page news by morning.

Carter King, the son of Elijah King.

My father’s enemy.

Their feud was infamous. Business deals gone wrong. Screaming matches in boardrooms. Lawsuits. Restraining orders. It was the kind of hatred people passed down like family heirlooms.

So if my father saw me with Carter?

He’d lose his damn mind.

Exactly what I need.