Blurb：
When delivery driver **Marlowe Creston** discovers her cheating boyfriend **Ryan** and campus queen **Brielle Jensen** hosting a party at *her* mansion in **The Seraphina Heights**, a high-stakes game of wealth, lies, and vengeance unfolds. What begins as a confrontation over a $10,000 ruined **Roche Bobois sofa** spirals into explosive revelations: Marlowe isn’t just a college student—she’s the secret heiress to the **Creston Mile empire**. Now, armed with security footage, legal threats, and razor-sharp wit, Marlowe dismantles Brielle’s facade of luxury, exposes Ryan’s toxic schemes with roommate **Gavin Nash**, and reclaims her power in **Oakhaven’s elite circles**. Betrayal burns brighter than BMW headlights in this twist-filled saga of **fake identities**, **sabotaged condoms**, and the true cost of crossing a Creston.
Content：
§01The call came when I was stuck in Oakhaven’s evening traffic, the scent of greasy tacos from the passenger seat filling my beat-up Honda Civic.
“Marlowe? Where the hell are you?” Ryan’s voice crackled through the car speakers, laced with that familiar note of impatience.
“Five minutes out, Ryan. Got a double order, traffic’s a nightmare.”
“Just hurry up. And don’t forget the extra guac this time.” A pause. “Look, I gotta go. Big night. Some friends of mine are throwing a thing at this insane mansion up in The Seraphina Heights. You wouldn’t believe this place.”
I could hear the smirk in his voice, the desperate need to impress.
“Sounds fun,” I said, my voice flat.
“Yeah, it’s… exclusive. Anyway, later.” He hung up before I could reply.
I stared at the glowing red taillights ahead, a bitter smile touching my lips.
Exclusive.
He had no idea.
A new order notification pinged on my phone, jarring me from my thoughts. I glanced at the screen, my smile widening into something sharp and dangerous.
Delivery for: R. Kessler.
Address: 14 Seraphina Way, The Seraphina Heights.
My address.
My house.
§02
The gates of The Seraphina Heights slid open silently for my Civic, a privilege granted by the license plate registered to the Creston family.
The security guard, a new guy I didn’t recognize, barely gave my clunker a second glance.
I parked behind a gleaming new BMW I didn’t recognize and walked up the stone pathway, the red DoorDash bag feeling like a prop in some bizarre play.
The front door was slightly ajar.
I could hear music spilling out, a generic pop track thumping softly.
And then, I heard her laugh—a high, tinkling sound I knew all too well.
Brielle Jensen. The Campus Queen.
I pushed the heavy oak door open.
They were in the living room, tangled together on my Roche Bobois sofa. Ryan’s hands were possessively on her waist, her fingers laced in his hair. They were locked in a sloppy, ravenous kiss.
My entrance went unnoticed.
I cleared my throat. Loudly.
They sprang apart, their faces a mixture of shock and annoyance.
Ryan’s eyes widened when he saw me, his expression flickering from confusion to raw fury.
“Marlowe? What the hell are you doing here?”
Brielle, however, just looked me up and down, a sneer twisting her perfectly glossed lips. She took in my worn jeans, my faded university hoodie, and the bright red delivery bag in my hand.
“Who’s this?” she asked Ryan, not even bothering to look at me directly. Her tone was dripping with disdain. “Did you order a stray?”
She took a deliberate step closer to me, wrinkling her nose as if she’d smelled something foul.
“You’re the delivery girl, right?” Brielle’s voice was sickly sweet. “My boyfriend here has been telling me all about you. The charity case who follows him around like a lost puppy.”
She gestured around the cavernous living room, a proprietary wave of her hand. “This is a private residence. You deliver the food, take your tip, and get out. You don’t get to just walk in.”
I let the silence hang in the air for a beat, enjoying the arrogant confidence radiating from her.
Then, I met her gaze, my own voice quiet and dangerously calm.
“My boyfriend?” I echoed, letting the words drip with ice. “That’s interesting.”
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The End