Revenge of The Furtive Billionaire Heir by Ryker Helios

The host asks everyone to be seated, so I look around the tables to see if there is an empty spot. There are few, so I choose the one nearest to me. As I make my way through the tables, I realize that the seat next to me is occupied by none other than Coraline Granger.

She looks so different from the girl she once was but similar at the same time. For example, her previous bob-cut style haircut is gone, replaces by luscious platinum blond curls that rivulet down her naked shoulders. Her gorgeous blue eyes, larger than life and electric, flashes t her friends, crinkling at the corners as she laughs at something they say. Her face gleams like the full moon, her makeup almost non-existent. Ruby-red lips contrast dizzyingly with the pearlescent tone of her teeth. She wears diamonds in her ears and neck, with a plain, black strapless dress.

She looks so mature and sophisticated.

Beautiful.

I could hear the conversation she’s having with her friends even from here, them inquiring her about her whereabouts and her life.

“How have you been, Coraline? Girl, you look so gorgeous.”

“How’s university treating you?”

“You got a boyfriend yet? Go on, don’t be shy.”

She used to be very open and friendly, nice enough compared to Jon, so I risk it and decide to take the seat next to her. And it’s not like I’m going to hit on her or creep her out. I just want a seat and maybe some platonic company for the evening.

take a seat because as soon as Coraline notices me next to her, her

her hand on the chair as if she’s trying to protect

the good grace to blush, certain that I was about to

turns back to me there is a

my mind. Something tells me that smirk is not

haughtily, “I just don’t want to sit next to a hobo like you. Are you lost or something? Because this is not

grinds to a halt as I stare at her, processing what she’d just uttered. What is this, be an

initial shock. “That was a

voice comes from behind me, and I turn to see him sauntering towards us. His expression morphs into that of disgust as he looks me up and down, “What on earth made

the best clothes I own. Jeans, shirts, and a

you should be able to call upon your common

heat up as I look

gagging before turning her attention to Jon’s shoes, “Compared to

out, showing off the designer shoes that adorn his foot. They are back in color and look to be made of leather, positively shimmering in the evening lights. There’s a harness with black metal buckles going around the ankle and down to the crevice between his sole and the slop leading to the ball. The Gucci mark shines proudly. There’s a dot

of laughter that escapes my throat, making everyone glare

sorry,” I try to get myself under control. “But Jon, I think someone scammed you on those shoes. Those