Witters Note:
This is a slow story (also my first, 48 chapters have been written editing is going on for them),non-erotic in the beginning though there is teasing up to chapter 15 where the full on on erotica starts. Uploads for the story would be weekly ranging from 2.5K to 4k words each. The story is centred on romance and soon moves to soft dom then to full BDSM territory the romance part stays. Mainly this is based on the female MC's POV all though it is written in 3rd person because I like to jump to different POV's. also I am a little sorry about the cliffhangers. After reading some comments on the first part i would like to make this clear Ethan is 18 at the start of this story and vanessa is 17 but they have an age gap of 6 months and vanessa celebrates her birthday in chapter 8 and the sexual and erotic teasing happen after that birthday and the full on sex starts in chapter 15 as i have already mentioned. I dont give permission to repost this. Hopefully you enjoy the story and i am looking forward to the criticism and feedback
(written and edited by)
MocoFF
Characters:
Vanessa : A white 17 year old petite 5ft 7"brunette female, with c cup tits, waist length brown hair, nice shapely bubble butt, longer legs than upper body, brown eyes, state level karate champion
Ethan : A white 18 year old 6ft white haired male, usually in a black hoodie and a non sleeve jacket. Also having the hood up at all time. Emerald green eyes.
They are in final year of high school the 12th grade
____________________________________________________________
(All are 18+ at start of erotica)
As if things weren't bad enough, the money issue was catching up to her.The party this weekend was supposed to be big--one of those nights where you had to show up looking like you belonged. Vanessa always had the money to do that.
Until now.
Her usual excuses weren't working anymore. Her friends were noticing. The easy acceptance she once had, the confidence people used to look at her with--it was slipping. And she had no idea what to do. Ethan was supposed to be her answer. If she had just beaten him, made him snap, she could've had her control back. And with that control, she would've figured something out.
But now?
She had nothing. And for the first time in years--Vanessa felt powerless.
Vanessa hated this. Hated standing there, waiting for him. Hated the way her stomach twisted in knots. Hated the words she was about to say. But she had no other choice.
Ethan finally walked up, stopping by his bike.
When he saw her, he didn't glare or smirk.He just looked at her, head tilting slightly. Questioning.
"What?" he asked.
Vanessa swallowed, staring past him--at a tree, a parked car, anything but his face.
"I need money," she said.
The words came out flat, empty.
No arrogance. No entitlement. Just need.
Ethan said nothing at first.
She could feel his eyes on her, studying her.
Then he sighed.
"And what exactly do I get out of this?"
Vanessa's hands clenched.
She had expected him to gloat.
To throw it back in her face. To smirk and walk away. Instead, he just crossed his arms.
Considering.
Then, to her surprise, he spoke.
"I'll loan it to you."
Vanessa's head snapped up, eyes wide.
"You... what?"
"I'll loan you the money," Ethan repeated.
"Not give. Loan. You'll owe me."
A deal.
Her heartbeat picked up.
She didn't know what game he was playing, but she didn't care.
She had a way out.
"...How much?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Ethan shrugged.
"How much do you need?"
Vanessa hesitated.
She hated this.
Hated asking him.
Hated being in this position at all.
But when she thought about the party, about her friends, about what would happen if she didn't get the money--
She swallowed her pride.
"Two hundred."
Ethan let out a low whistle.
"You really let your spending get that out of control, huh?"
Vanessa's nails dug into her palms.
"Are you giving it to me or not?"
Ethan watched her for a long moment.
Then, slowly, he nodded.
"Meet me tomorrow after school."
Vanessa exhaled, relief washing over her.
For the first time in weeks, she felt like she could breathe.
She didn't know what he would want in return.
Didn't care.
Right now, all that mattered was that she was back in control.
Or at least, that's what she told herself.
Vanessa stood in the same spot as yesterday, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently.
She wasn't nervous.
Not at all.
She was just... annoyed.
Ethan arrived a few minutes later, hands in his jacket pockets, as relaxed as ever.
He stopped in front of her, tilting his head slightly.
"You got the cash?" she asked, cutting straight to the point.
Ethan smirked. "You in a rush?"
Vanessa scowled. "Just get on with it."
Ethan shrugged. "Alright. Here's the deal."
He pulled out his phone, tapping a few times before looking back at her.
"One-month loan," he said. "Eighteen percent interest."
Vanessa barely reacted.
She had expected some interest--rich kids didn't just hand out money for free.
"End-of-month payment: two hundred thirty-six dollars."
Still fine.
She could figure something out by then.
But then--
"If you don't pay on time," Ethan continued, "you'll be Slave to me for a day."
Vanessa's body stiffened.
What?
She stared at him, barely processing what he had just said.
Then, slowly, her fists clenched.
"The hell does that mean?" she snapped.
Ethan remained infuriatingly calm.
"Exactly what it sounds like. If you can't pay, you do what I say for a whole day."
Vanessa's jaw tightened.
"You're out of your damn mind."
Ethan gave her a lazy shrug.
"Take it or leave it."
Her blood boiled.
He wasn't serious.
He couldn't be serious.
She wanted to punch him.
To wipe that smug look off his face.
To demand he change his stupid conditions.
But... she couldn't.
Because she had no other options.
And he knew it.
Vanessa's hands trembled slightly at her sides.
"You're really gonna make me agree to that?"
Ethan just looked at her.
"No one's forcing you, Vanessa. But this is the deal. Take it, or don't."
Her breathing was uneven.
She wanted to scream, to curse him out, to walk away and never speak to him again.
But she needed that money.
So, after a long, bitter silence-- she exhaled sharply and muttered,
"Fine."
Ethan smirked.
"Good choice."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the cash.
Crisp bills, neatly folded.
Real.
Vanessa snatched it from his hand before he could say anything else.
Ethan chuckled. "Pleasure doing business with you."
Vanessa ignored him.
She turned on her heel, storming away before she could regret this more than she already did.
Vanessa pulled off the act flawlessly at the party.
She laughed, she drank, she danced--all with the same confidence as always.
When her friends asked about the money situation, she shrugged it off, spinning a casual lie about how she'd "handled it."
No one questioned her after that.
For a few hours, she almost believed it herself.
But the next morning, reality slammed back into her.
Two hundred thirty-six dollars.
A number that sat heavy in her mind, repeating like a taunt.
She had never cared about money before--because she had never had to earn it.
Money had always come easy.
She took it, and that was that.
But now?
Now she was trapped.
And worst of all, she had trapped herself.
Every time she thought about Ethan's final condition, a shiver ran down her spine.
What did he even mean by it?
Was it just another way to humiliate her?
Would he make her do stupid errands? Say things she didn't want to?
Or was it something worse?
No.
She refused to believe he would go that far.
She didn't think that Ethan was that type of guy and she was a virgin whatever may be siad at school
He was smug, he was annoying, but he wasn't... like that.
Still, the uncertainty gnawed at her.
The school week began, and Vanessa felt like she was carrying something heavy on her shoulders.
She spotted Ethan in the halls--same black jacket, same hood up, same unreadable expression.
As if nothing had changed.
But everything had changed.
For the first time, Vanessa felt aware of him.
Every time she passed him, her mind whispered, he owns you now.
Not yet.
But soon.
Unless she found a way to pay him back.
She needed a plan.
Fast.
The ice cream parlor was a small, cozy place tucked between a laundromat and a bookstore.
The "Now Hiring" sign had been taped to the glass door, barely noticeable unless you were looking for it.
Vanessa hadn't been looking for it.
But when she saw it, something inside her just... clicked.
She wasn't the type to work.
The idea of scooping ice cream for sticky-fingered kids and impatient parents wasn't exactly glamorous.
But she needed money.
So, before she could second-guess herself, she walked in.
The manager was a middle-aged woman named Becky, who barely glanced up from her clipboard when Vanessa walked in.
"You here for a job?" she asked, adjusting her reading glasses.
Vanessa nodded. "Yeah."
Becky gave her a once-over, then pushed a short application across the counter.
"Fill this out."
Vanessa grabbed a pen and quickly scribbled in the basics--her name, age, school, and contact information.
"You worked before?" Becky asked.
Vanessa hesitated. "...No."
Becky didn't seem surprised.
"You good with people?"
Vanessa almost laughed.
Not in the way you'd want.
"I can handle it," she said instead.
Becky hummed, flipping through the form.
"We just need someone for the evening shifts. Two-hour shifts, four days a week sound good?"
Vanessa nodded. "Yeah, that works."
Becky jotted something down.
"It's eight bucks an hour. You mess up, you clean up. Uniform's in the back. You start tomorrow."
And just like that, Vanessa had a job.
On her way home, she ran the calculations in her head.
$8 an hour × 2 hours a day × 4 days a week = $64 a week.
In a month, that would be $256.
Enough to cover her debt.
Relief settled over her like a blanket.
For the first time since making that deal with Ethan, she felt like she was back in control.
A couple of weeks later
Vanessa hated the job.
The uniform was stupid. A pastel blue t-shirt and a matching visor that made her feel like a walking ice cream cone.
The work was mind-numbing.
Scooping ice cream.
Ringing up orders.
Wiping down sticky counters.
And worst of all? The customers.
Listening to sugar-fueled kids scream their lungs out.
Bratty kids who couldn't make up their minds.
Parents who barely acknowledged her existence.
Teenagers who came in just to hang out and make a mess without buying anything.
Every evening shift dragged on forever, and by the time she got home, her arms ached, her back was sore, and the sickly-sweet smell of melted ice cream clung to her clothes.
But she had no other choice.
Every dollar she earned was one step closer to getting Ethan off her back.
Ethan was the same as ever--quiet, distant, keeping to himself.
If anything, he had become even more absent.
At first, Vanessa didn't think much of it.
It was Ethan.
He wasn't the type to be in anyone's business, and he definitely wasn't the type to let anyone into his.
But after a while, she started to notice.
Some days, he wasn't at school at all.
Other times, he showed up for a couple of classes, then disappeared again.
She had never cared about his schedule before.
It wasn't like she looked for him.
Except... she was.
Two weeks into her job, on a particularly hot evening, the ice cream shop was packed.
Kids screaming.
Machines whirring.
The endless chatter of people trying to talk over the noise.
Vanessa was exhausted, barely listening as she took the next order.
A father and his crying son.
She grabbed a cone and started scooping, but then--something made her stop.
The man's face.
The sharp jawline. The emerald green eyes. The slight slouch in his posture, like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.
For half a second, she thought she saw Ethan.
The resemblance wasn't exact. The man was older, of course. And didn't have white hair
But something about him made her think of Ethan.
The realization sent a jolt through her.
Why am I thinking about him?
She shoved the cone at the kid, taking the money with a sharp nod, but her hands felt strangely unsteady.
Had she really been looking for him?
Was that why she noticed when he wasn't at school?
Why she caught herself scanning the halls for his stupid black hoodie?
Vanessa clenched her jaw.
This was stupid.
Ethan wasn't important.
He was just a debt to pay off, a mistake to fix.
That was all.
So why did she feel so off-balance?
Vanessa tried to shove the feeling away.
She had better things to worry about.
Like the fact that her arms felt like they were about to fall off from scooping rock-solid ice cream.
Or that she reeked of vanilla and chocolate syrup, no matter how many times she washed her uniform.
Or the fact that she was still short on cash.
Her shifts were stacking up, and so were her earnings, but seeing that number grow didn't bring the relief she expected.
Instead, it just made her more aware of Ethan.
Of the deal.
Of the deadline.
And, whether she liked it or not... of his absence.
By the third week of her job, Ethan's disappearances became more frequent.
Some days, he wasn't at school at all.
Other days, he was there one moment and gone the next.
Vanessa told herself she didn't care.
But then came the moments when she caught herself scanning the hallways.
When she looked toward his usual spot at lunch and felt annoyed when he wasn't there.
She wasn't worried about him.
That would be ridiculous.
She just wanted her chance to pay him back and be done.
At least, that's what she kept telling herself.
One afternoon, she sat at her usual lunch table, chewing the inside of her cheek while her friends chatted around her.
The conversation faded into the background as her eyes darted across the cafeteria.
Still no Ethan.
She tapped her fingers on the table.
Where the hell did he go all the time?
Vanessa hated not knowing.
Hated that, for the first time in years, she wasn't the one in control.
He was supposed to be beneath me, she thought bitterly.
But now, it feels like I'm the one chasing after him.
She exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down her face.
This was ridiculous.
She was Vanessa.
She didn't chase after anyone.
That night, as she collapsed onto her bed, exhausted from another shift, she tried to push everything out of her mind.
Ethan.
The debt.
The stupid realization that she had been looking for him.
But as she stared up at the ceiling, sleep just out of reach, a thought crept in.
What if Ethan's disappearances weren't random?
What if they were connected to why he was suddenly able to dodge her attacks?
The thought sent a chill down her spine.
She had assumed he was training.
That was the only explanation that made sense.
But if that were true...
Why wasn't he getting stronger right in front of her?
Why did he vanish instead?
The idea that Ethan was keeping a secret from her--something big--burned in her chest like an itch she couldn't scratch.
And suddenly, the debt wasn't the only thing she needed to settle.
She needed to know the truth.
A few days later Vanessa felt on top of the world that night.
For the first time in weeks, she wasn't worrying about ice cream shifts, aching muscles, or Ethan's stupid calm smirk whenever she failed to get a reaction out of him.
She had money in her pocket, and for once--more than enough.
So, when the invitation came for another party, she barely hesitated.
By her calculations, her next paycheck would leave her with $20 extra after paying off Ethan. That meant she could breathe a little.
Maybe even enjoy herself for the first time in forever.
And so she did.
Vanessa threw back drinks like she wasn't on a budget and laughed louder than she had in weeks. The bass thumped through the floors, her friends cheered her on, and for one glorious night, the weight of the debt--of everything--was gone.
Until it wasn't.
The next morning hit her like a freight train.
Her head pounded, her mouth felt like sandpaper, and her stomach churned in protest as she forced herself out of bed.
The day passed in a blur.
School.
Work.
The usual grind.
But it wasn't until she got home that the panic set in.
She dumped her earnings onto her bed and began counting, expecting the satisfying confirmation that she was ready to settle the debt.
Instead, she froze.
The numbers didn't add up.
Vanessa's stomach dropped.
She recounted.
Again.
Again.
Her hands trembled as she reached for the crumpled receipt at the bottom of her bag.
Total Spent: $50.
A horrified groan escaped her lips as the memory came crashing back.
Oh, no...
Last night.
The drinks.
The food.
The mindless swiping of her card while she laughed and said, Yeah, put it on my tab!
She had been so stupid.
Now, instead of having $20 extra, she was $30 short.
Her body went ice cold.
Vanessa smacked her forehead so hard it stung.
"What the hell was I thinking?" she muttered, pacing back and forth in her room.
$30.
Just $30, but it might as well have been a thousand because she had nothing left to give.
She couldn't ask her parents--she wasn't about to explain why she suddenly needed money.
And the worst part?
Ethan.
If she didn't pay, then she had to face his condition.
Being Slave to him for a whole day.
Vanessa clenched her fists.
She had agreed, thinking she would never actually have to go through with it.
That she would have the money in time.
But now...
She collapsed onto her bed, gripping her hair.
This couldn't be happening.
She had to find a way out of this.
Somehow.
Vanessa's heart pounded as she checked the shift schedule again, hoping she had misread it.
But no.
Only one extra hour was available.
Even if she took it, she'd still be 6 stupid dollars short.
Her stomach twisted.
She could already hear Ethan's voice in her head, that calm, infuriating tone as he reminded her of the deal.
"Failure to pay means you're Slave to me for a whole day."
She gritted her teeth. Like hell I am.
There had to be another way.
Vanessa spent the next few hours scrambling for ideas.
She could try to borrow the money, but from who?
Her friends? No way. That would mean explaining why she needed it, and she wasn't about to admit to them that she owed money to Ethan of all people.
Stealing? Out of the question--she wasn't that desperate.
She even thought about trying to bargain with Ethan, but the idea made her skin crawl.
He wouldn't budge.
She paced her room, fingers tugging at her hair.
Then, it hit her.
She still had stuff to sell.
Vanessa tore through her drawers, searching for anything of value.
Old jewelry? Maybe.
A barely used designer hoodie her cousin gifted her last year? Definitely.
She grabbed her things and headed straight to a resale shop.
The cashier--a bored-looking woman with too much gum in her mouth--barely glanced at Vanessa's items before offering five bucks.
"Five?" Vanessa snapped. "Are you serious?"
"Take it or leave it, kid."
She clenched her jaw so hard it hurt.
This was ridiculous.
But she didn't have time to argue.
Swallowing her pride, she snatched the bill from the counter and stormed out.
She was still a dollar short.
Vanessa sat on a park bench, gripping the five-dollar bill like it was her lifeline.
One more. Just one more stupid dollar.
She searched her pockets, her bag-- anywhere a forgotten bill might be hiding.
Nothing.
She scanned the sidewalk, hoping to spot a stray coin.
Nothing.
For the first time in a long time, she felt trapped.
No backup plan.
No safety net.
Just one missing dollar standing between her and humiliation.
She swallowed hard.
There was one last option.
And she hated it.
Saturday came faster than she wanted it to.
Vanessa made her way to Ethan's house, her steps heavier than usual. She wasn't sure what she had expected, but when she arrived, she found herself staring in surprise.
The house was... well-kept. The yard was trimmed, the porch clean, and the windows spotless. For some reason, she had assumed it would be a mess--a place falling apart just like she imagined Ethan's life was.
She rang the doorbell, her heart hammering.
After a moment, the door swung open, and Vanessa's breath caught in her throat.
Ethan stood there, but something was off.
No black jacket.Or sweatshirt
Instead, he wore a cotton half-sleeve shirt, the fabric stretching over a build that didn't belong to the Ethan she thought she knew. Muscles that shouldn't have been there. Defined and lean, like someone who trained hard.
But that wasn't what threw her the most.
It was his hair.
For the first time, she saw it clearly--white. Not dyed, not bleached. Natural. And suddenly, it reminded her of someone she had seen before, though she couldn't place it.
She forced herself to focus, pulling the money from her pocket. Two hundred thirty-five dollars.
She extended it toward him, avoiding his eyes.
"Here," she muttered.
Ethan took the money without a word, counting it with practiced ease.
Vanessa watched, shifting on her feet, a strange tension settling in her chest.
He finished counting and raised an eyebrow. "You're one dollar short."
Her stomach dropped.
She knew this was coming, but hearing it from his mouth made it worse.
"I know," she muttered.
Ethan pocketed the cash and crossed his arms. Now that she was really looking at him-- without that ever-present black covering-- she noticed just how much he had changed.
His arms weren't bulky, but lean and defined, the kind that came from functional strength rather than showy gym workouts.
And then there was his hair.
That unnatural white, standing out starkly against his darker skin.
It made him look... familiar.
But why?
She shook the thought away. She had bigger problems.
"I'll get you the last dollar," she said quickly, trying to regain control of the situation. "Just--give me a day."
Ethan smirked, amusement flickering in his eyes. "It's just a dollar, Vanessa."
She scowled. "Then what's the problem?"
He tilted his head slightly, considering. "A whole day for a missing dollar seems excessive, don't you think?"
Vanessa narrowed her eyes. Was he... negotiating?
His smirk widened. "Tell you what--you clean my bike, and we'll call it even."
She blinked. "You want me to clean your bike?"
He shrugged. "It's been looking a little rough. You scratch it up, you might as well make it shine."
Her jaw tightened.
This wasn't what she expected.
She had prepared herself for something worse-- something humiliating.
But this?
This was just... annoying.
"Fine," she muttered. "I'll do it."
Ethan stepped back, motioning toward his bike parked by the garage. "Better get started, then."
As Vanessa stepped through the gate and onto Ethan's driveway, she froze.
A deep, rumbling bark echoed through the yard, followed by the rapid thudding of paws against the ground.
Her body tensed instinctively, years of martial arts training kicking in. She turned sharply, expecting some kind of threat--only to be met with a pair of sharp, intelligent eyes staring up at her.
Two massive German Shepherds flanked the sides of the yard, their sleek fur gleaming in the late afternoon light. One stood tall and alert, its posture commanding, while the other sat lazily near the porch, its ears flicking forward with mild interest.
And right in the middle of them, wagging its tail like a blur, was a golden retriever pup, its tongue lolling out in a happy pant.
Vanessa blinked. What the hell?
Ethan wasn't a people person. Hell, he barely spoke unless spoken to. And yet--he had dogs?
Before she could process it, the retriever pup bounded forward, nearly tripping over its own feet as it skidded to a stop in front of her. Its tail thumped wildly against her leg, brushing against her jeans as it stared up at her with pure, unfiltered excitement.
Vanessa took a half-step back, still thrown off.
"Down, Fenrir," Ethan's voice called from behind her, calm but firm.
The golden retriever, Fenrir? let out a small, playful yip but immediately sat, its tail still wagging like crazy.
Ethan stepped beside her, crossing his arms as he observed her reaction.
"Didn't take you for a dog person," Vanessa muttered, glancing between them.
The German Shepherd that had been standing guard trotted over, its head level with her waist. Ethan reached down, scratching behind its ears. "This one's Ares. He takes his job too seriously."
Ares didn't even blink. His sharp gaze remained locked on Vanessa like he was silently assessing if she belonged here.
Ethan gestured toward the second shepherd, the one still lounging lazily near the porch. "That's Nyx. She couldn't care less about security, but she's the best at pretending to."
Nyx flicked her ears as if acknowledging her name, then yawned and flopped onto her side.
Vanessa eyed the three of them, still trying to wrap her head around it. "You... named your dogs after a Norse wolf, the god of war, and the literal goddess of night."
Ethan smirked. "Seemed fitting."
She folded her arms, watching as Fenrir--who clearly did not fit the intimidating theme--rolled onto his back, paws up in silent plea.
Ethan shook his head. "And then there's this idiot," he added, nudging Fenrir with his foot.
The pup let out a happy little huff, completely unfazed.
Vanessa scoffed, shifting uncomfortably. "You don't seem like the pet type."
Ethan shrugged. "Maybe I just don't like people."
She hesitated, glancing down at Ares, who was still standing close, his gaze steady.
Something about all of this unsettled her. Ethan had spent years making himself seem untouchable--closed-off, alone.
But he wasn't, was he?
She exhaled sharply, shaking the thought away. "Whatever. Can we get this over with?"
Ethan raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. "Garage is open."
She muttered something under her breath and pushed past him, still hyper-aware of the dogs watching her every step.
As she walked, she could still hear Fenrir's tail thumping against the ground, as if he had already decided he liked her.
Vanessa made her way to the garage where there was a car and the bike. Ethan entered behind her and silently held out a rag for her to take,
Vanessa shot him a glare before stomping over and grabbing the rag he handed her, she couldn't help but feel like she'd somehow still lost.
Vanessa froze for a fraction of a second, her grip tightening around the rag.
She had barely started scrubbing when Ethan, standing a little way behind her, muttered, "You know, I could just snap a picture, post it on social media, and you'd be the laughing stock of the school."
A sharp jolt of anger shot through her, hot and immediate.
She whipped her head around to glare at him, but he was still smirking, arms crossed, watching her like this was some kind of joke.
"Don't even think about it," she snapped, turning back to the bike and scrubbing harder.
Ethan chuckled, a quiet, knowing sound that made her bristle.
"Relax, Vanessa. I'm just saying--kind of funny, isn't it? The big bad bully, out here washing my bike."
Her jaw clenched. "I'm only doing this because of the damn deal."
"And whose fault is that?" His voice was maddeningly calm.
She didn't answer. She focused on the task--the rhythm of scrubbing, the sound of the rag against the metal.
The bike was still fairly new, but he hadn't been cleaning it often by the looks of it--dust clung to the frame, smudges on the seat.
It pissed her off that she was the one dealing with it.
Ethan stayed behind her, quiet now, which somehow made it worse.
She could feel his presence, like he was studying her, picking apart every little movement she made.
It reminded her too much of how she had watched him these past few weeks, trying to figure out what had changed.
"Why do you care so much?" she muttered, not looking at him.
"Hm?"
She exhaled sharply. "About this. About... me. If you wanted revenge, you could've done way worse than making me clean your stupid bike."
Ethan was silent for a moment, and when he finally spoke, there was something unreadable in his tone.
"Maybe I just like watching you struggle."
Vanessa's fingers dug into the rag.
She didn't know why, but something about the way he said that made her skin crawl--
Not out of fear, but because she couldn't tell if he was joking or not.
She focused on the bike again, scrubbing harder, willing herself not to think about it.
Not to think about him.
Vanessa wiped the sweat off her forehead, only to smear a streak of grease across her skin.
She scowled, muttering under her breath, shaking out her hands as if that would somehow get rid of the stubborn stains.
Damn it.
Ethan had disappeared inside, leaving her alone in the driveway. His bike was almost done, but she needed a fresh rag.
She hesitated for a moment before heading toward the back of the garage to find a rag
It was surprisingly clean--much like the house--neatly arranged with shelves of tools, a covered workbench, and an old punching bag hanging in the corner.
Her eyes flicked toward a partially open door led to another room.
The lights were off, but something about it nagged at her.
Curiosity won out.
She pushed the door open and flipped the switch.
The room lit up, revealing walls lined with trophies and medals.
Rows upon rows of gleaming awards, some small, others large, with plaques beneath them.
Her breath hitched as she stepped forward, eyes scanning the dates.latest being
5 years ago. Going upto seven years ago.
She turned toward the framed pictures--
Ethan, standing on the center podium, a medal around his neck, opponents beside him who were double his size.
Ethan, mid-fight, his leg raised in a perfect kick.
Ethan, a black belt tied tightly around his waist, shaking hands with an instructor.
Her stomach dropped.
Her gaze darted to the certificates hanging neatly beside the trophies.
Ethan Smith.
But that made no sense.
The Ethan she knew was Ethan William.
The pieces clicked into place all at once.
The white hair. The missing days. The unnatural reflexes.
Her mind flashed back to when she first saw his hair -- that distinct white-green shade.
She had seen it before.
On TV.
There had been a prodigy years ago. A kid who dominated every martial arts tournament he entered. The kind of competitor coaches whispered about, whose name made others hesitate before stepping onto the mat.
Ethan Smith.
And then--just like that--he disappeared.
Vanessa swallowed hard, her fingers gripping the edge of a shelf.
The boy she had been bullying all these years...
The one she had thought was an easy target...
He was never a victim to begin with.
Vanessa's fingers trembled as she traced the edge of a gold-plated trophy.
The dates lined up too perfectly.
Five years ago, Ethan Smith vanished from the martial arts scene.
Five years ago, Ethan William' parents died in a car accident.
Her breath came out shaky.
They were the same person.
She turned back to the certificates, her eyes scanning the name again.
Ethan Smith.
But at school, he had always been Ethan William.
Nobody had ever questioned it.
Because nobody had ever cared enough to look.
Except now, standing in this room, Vanessa knew the truth.
Ethan had disappeared from the martial arts world at the same time he lost his parents.
He had buried everything--his name, his past, his talent.
And she had spent years bullying him, thinking he was weak.
Her stomach twisted violently.
A sudden, overwhelming sickness crawled up her throat.
Vanessa's fingernails dug into the wood, gripping the edge of a dusty shelf as if it could steady her.
Her mind raced, replaying every encounter she'd had with Ethan over the years.
He let me win.
Every single time.
She had prided herself on being stronger, faster, better. But Ethan--Ethan Smith--had just been playing along.
I wasn't in control. I never was.
The realization hit like a punch to the gut.
She hadn't been winning.
He had been letting her think she was.
Her throat tightened.
For years, she had built her entire identity around her strength. Around the idea that she was dominant, unstoppable.
She had told herself she bullied Ethan because he was weak.
Because he had money he didn't deserve.
But deep down, she knew the truth.
She had bullied him because it made her feel powerful.
And now?
Now, that power felt hollow.
Vanessa spun around at the sound of his voice.
Ethan stood in the doorway.
His usual calm was fractured--jaw tight, eyes dark, shoulders tense. In one hand, he held a bottle of water and a small carton of orange juice, his grip on them too tight.
"What are you doing back here?" His voice was low, steady--but edged with something sharp.
Vanessa's heart pounded.
For the first time, she saw real anger in his eyes--not the fleeting irritation she had tried to provoke at school.
Something deeper. Something restrained.
"I--" Her gaze flickered back to the trophies, the certificates, the podium photos.
The pieces fit now. But they still didn't feel real.
"You're Ethan Smith."
His jaw clenched. "And?"
Her breath hitched. "Why--why did you pretend? Why let me think you were weak?"
Ethan scoffed. Shook his head.
"I didn't pretend anything. You just saw what I wanted you to see."
She opened her mouth. Nothing came out.
Ethan stepped inside. The small space felt even smaller.
"You've seen enough. Get out."
Vanessa bristled. "I just--"
"Leave."
The single word cut like a blade.
"Your debt is paid. We're done."
Final. Absolute.
Vanessa's chest tightened.
For years, she had made Ethan's life miserable, convinced she held all the power.
But in this moment, she understood--
He had just erased her.
Like she was nothing.
Her fingers curled into a fist--faintly greasy from cleaning his bike.
She forced herself to lift her chin and shoved past him, refusing to look back.
But as she stepped out of his garage, her mind was racing.
She barely registered the sound of paws against the ground before a body pressed against her side.
Fenrir.
The puppy whined softly, trotting beside her, sensing something was wrong. A moment later, Nyx and Ares appeared from the shadows, their large forms moving in sync, flanking her. It wasn't aggressive--if anything, it felt like they were escorting her out.
Like she was the intruder.
Vanessa swallowed hard, her throat dry.
Even the damn dogs were loyal to him.
She quickened her pace, but the presence of the two German Shepherds at her sides was impossible to ignore.
When she reached the gate, Ares gave a deep, low huff--almost like a warning. A reminder.
Then, just as suddenly as they had appeared, they turned back, disappearing toward the house.
Only Fenrir lingered for a moment longer, tilting his head at her with bright, curious eyes before bounding back after his pack.
Vanessa exhaled sharply.
Because for the first time in her life--
She wasn't sure who she was anymore.