Pawn In Their Twisted Love Game

the untouchable Branson Ayers. My dream of winning

oyed my life overnight. The scholarship was gon

ruth from behind a hedge. He' d orchestrated the whole thing

For two years, the passionate man who came t

pawn in their sick game-a body for Hanson to use while B

was okay. They disowned me for shaming the fa

. But as the city lights disappeared below, I made a vow. One day, I w

pte

Gomez

d my face, my voice, and my body. T

larship committee had sent me a terse, formal email withdrawing my final-round interview. My dream, the one I had bled fo

d me down the manicured campus pathways. Eyes, once filled with admiration, now held a mixture of pity and

eeded to find Branson. He

ed in old money it seemed to repel the very air I breathed. I was let in by a stony-faced fraternity broth

from behind a perfectly sculpted hedge, laced w

itious socialite who had been Branson' s shadow since they were in diapers. \"The way she looked so... cheap. No

myself against the hedge, t

hilling satisfaction. \"She was a necessary sacrifice, Kennedy. Th

n handle the... physical side of things? U

in brother, the impulsive, artistic \"bad boy\" to Branson' s polished prodigy. \"Honestly, I did you a favor, bro. Kept you pure for you

d tilted

breath. A wave of nausea so powerful I had to clamp a hand over my

is tone dripping with amusement. \"That' s the best part. I had to transfer i

oice softening into a tone I had never, not once, he

oice thick with triumph. \"And n

ndation of my life, the very reality I had inhab

s all

The memories, once so precious, now flashed through my mind lik

as beautiful, unattainable, a god among mortals in the world of Kingston. He was the heir to the Ayers Global fortune, a business sch

on the charity of a scholarship. I knew my place. I kept my head down, buried in b

t. He' d show up at the same coffee shop. He started walking me back to my dorm. He was re

lamp, he' d stopped me. \"Ally,\" he' d said, his

my chest. I, Ally Gomez, was being seen by Branson Ayers. I sai

cy of the off-campus apartment he insisted on getting for us, he was a different person entirely. Passionate. Demanding. Almost feral. His hands knew my body wit

public displays of affection. The pressure of his family name made him guarded. I invented a

the truth crashed down on me wi

I had intellectual debates with, the o

ose body I knew as well as my own, the one I h

ure a scholarship for the woman they both loved. I was a surrogate body for Han

s. I slapped my hand over my mouth,

to get

ath, each step an echo of my shattered heart. I didn't

nt. It was my mother. I fumbled t

e was truly angry. \"Your father and I just saw it. The video. How could you? After

d, tears streaming down my fac

d. \"Our neighbors are whispering. Your cousins have been ca

d been trying to earn my whole life. I had spent years being the perfect daughter, the academic troph

nd final. \"You will go to your aunt's. You will stay there until this scan

ne wen

und me. Betrayed by my love, used by his brother, disca

ttled over me, extinguis

banis

the one who nev