SETTINGS: NEW YORK
SMALL APARTMENT || 9:10AM
TESSA'S ROOM
The blast of music shook the thin walls of the little apartment.
Inside her room, Tessa's hips moved with practiced rhythm, her bare feet sliding over the worn carpet. Her favorite group.The Rock Girls was on full volume, and Cathryn's raspy, powerful voice filled the space.
🎵 We rise, we burn, we're diamonds in the storm
🎵 No chains can hold us, we'll rewrite the norm
🎵 Step back—watch us light the night in gold
🎵 This is our story, fierce and bold…
Tessa sang along word-for-word, clutching her hairbrush like a microphone, eyes closed as she imagined blinding stage lights and roaring crowds. In her head, she was a Rock Girl. confident, unstoppable, the kind of woman who didn't second-guess herself.
The chorus swelled, and she spun in place, sweat dotting her forehead, heart pounding with the beat.
"Tessa!" her mom's voice suddenly cut through the music like a cymbal crash. "Turn that down before someone calls the landlord!"
Tessa groaned but hit pause, the silence feeling almost wrong. "It's Rock Girls, Mom. You don't turn that down."
"You wanna get us kicked out?" Mrs. Cristin appeared in the doorway, a hand on her hip, the other clutching her purse. "At least use your earphones. Not the whole block needs to hear your concert."
"Fine, I've heard you." Tessa eyed the handbag. "You heading out?"
"Yeah. And while I'm gone, no loud music. Clean up and study, Tessa. College isn't gonna pass itself."
"Yes, ma'am," she said, drawing the words out with mock obedience. "And… don't forget my snack on the way back."
Her mom shook her head with a small smile before leaving. The front door clicked shut, and Tessa stood in the middle of her room, brushing damp hair from her face.
For a moment, the room felt too quiet.
She glanced at the paused song on her phone.
A small grin tugged at her lips.
Maybe… just one more play. She muttered as she turned on the song and began dancing again.
HAMPTON-STYLE VILLA || LIVING ROOM
Cathryn sat cross-legged on the cream sofa, her phone in hand, while Caroline and Sabrina lounged nearby.
"Shit! Hardin is so f***ing hot," Caroline said, eyes glued to the livestream playing on her tablet.
Cathryn's glare was instant—cold, sharp.
Sabrina, sensing the tension, spoke up. "Uh… so, Cathryn, what's up with you and Hardin?"
"We're dating," Cathryn said flatly, as if daring anyone to question her.
"Oh my god! You're serious?" Sabrina gasped.
Cathryn smirked. "Tomorrow night is the Crimson Kiss concert. I'm gonna go up to him and kiss him on stage."
"The crowd will go insane," Sabrina chuckled.
"I'm so famished right now," Caroline muttered.
"Then go cook and stop disturbing my ears," Cathryn hissed.
"Whatever," Caroline said, heading toward the kitchen.
"Ouu… my baby," Cathryn cooed under her breath as she turned back to Hardin on the screen.
From the kitchen, Caroline's voice carried: "Hardin is for everyone, girl."
"F*** you," Cathryn shot back without looking away.
Sabrina sighed. "You two still haven't settled your issues. You'd better make up."
"Caroline is the one pissing me off," Cathryn said coolly.
"That's between you two. But honestly, we need to start attending classes—we've missed too many. I'm so stressed, and we've got a concert soon. That college is exhausting." Sabrina rubbed her temples.
"I'm only going to that God-forsaken college if Hardin's in class. I don't care about learning. I'm already living my dream," Cathryn replied.
"I just hope Hardin doesn't play you. You know he's a playboy—and he doesn't resist anything in a skirt," Sabrina warned.
Cathryn's lips curled into a smug smile. "I'm not letting any girl near him. He's mine. Mine alone. We're a perfect match from heaven."
Sabrina gave a small laugh. "Is it the Hardin White I know? Thousands of girls throw themselves at him. But since you say you're dating, no problem."
"You're already spoiling my mood, Sabrina. I'm hot as f***, and Hardin can't resist me. I'm a 10 out of 10."
"Alright, ma'am," Sabrina replied dryly.
Cathryn's eyes stayed locked on the livestream. Hardin was shirtless, his abs glistening under stage lights, moving effortlessly to one of his songs.
"He's so hot… I'm already wet just looking at him," she murmured to herself, a slow smile spreading across her lips.
WHITE'S MANSION – HARDIN'S BEDROOM
Knock. Knock.
Hardin's jaw tightened. "Who's there?" he snapped, irritation clear in his voice. He was mid-livestream, shirtless, music blaring, comments flooding in—until the door swung open.
Mrs. White stepped inside without waiting for permission.
"Unbelievable," he muttered, instantly ending the live. "What now? Here to give me another lecture about quitting my career?"
"I would have loved if you focused on college," she said coolly, shutting the door behind her. "Graduate. Then take over your father's company. That's the future you should be thinking about."
Hardin leaned back in his chair, smirking like her words were background noise. "That's your future, Mom. Not mine."
Her expression hardened. "You think prancing on stage, half-naked, singing songs is a future? You're ruining yourself with this Crimson Kiss nonsense. Do you know what people say about you?"
"Oh, here we go…" Hardin drawled.
"They call you reckless. A playboy. The type who can't resist anything in a skirt," she said sharply.
He laughed, leaning forward. "And? Last time I checked, people still pay to see me. The band is selling out shows. I'm building something for me, not to sit in an office wearing a tie."
Mrs. White's tone turned icy. "And when it all crashes? When your so-called career ends, and no one's screaming your name anymore—what then?"
"Then I'll still have my music," Hardin shot back, eyes locking on hers. "And I'd rather die on stage than rot in a boardroom."
They stared at each other, tension thick in the air. Finally, she exhaled, shaking her head. "One day, you'll regret this stubbornness."
"Maybe," he said, grabbing his phone again. "But that day isn't today."
Mrs. White turned and walked out without another word, the slam of the door echoing through the room.
"F**k!" Hardin slammed his fist into the wall, the dull thud echoing through the room. His jaw clenched, chest heaving.
He stalked over to the ring light where his phone sat and quickly dialed a number.
Jordan picked up almost instantly.
"Yo, man! Missing me already?"
"Shut up. I called for a reason," Hardin said flatly.
Jordan chuckled. "Alright, alright. What's up?"
"I need… a distraction," Hardin muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. "Some bitches to drill. I'm not in the mood for anything else right now, and that's the only way I'm calming down."
"Say less, bro. On service," Jordan replied smoothly. "They'll be waiting for you at my place."
"Good." Hardin grabbed a black leather jacket from his chair. "I'll be there in a jiffy."
He ended the call, slid his arms into the jacket, and headed out without a second glance—leaving the livestream equipment still glowing in the empty room.
BACK AT THE CRISTIN'S SMALL APARTMENT*
Tessa was halfway through mopping the narrow living room when a sudden, sharp cramp twisted in her lower abdomen.
"Oh no…" she gasped, instinctively pressing a hand to her stomach.
A warm trickle slipped between her legs. Panic fluttered in her chest.
"I hope it's not what I'm thinking," she muttered under her breath, glancing toward her bedroom. "Of course… now of all days."
Her mind raced then it hit her. She'd run out of pads and completely forgotten to buy more.
"Great," she groaned, setting the mop aside. "Just perfect."
She headed toward her small room, already trying to figure out if she had enough change in her bag to run to the store .
She rummaged through the drawer, relief washing over her when she found a few crumpled bills. "Thank God," she breathed.
Grabbing an old, soft piece of cloth from the back of her wardrobe, she folded it quickly, tucking it into place to keep her jeans from getting stained. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to do.
Without wasting another second, Tessa slipped on her sneakers, snatched her hoodie from the chair, and rushed out the door.
STREET OUTSIDE THE APARTMENT*
Tessa clutched the crumpled bills in one hand, her hoodie pulled tight against the gray sky. The air smelled heavy, that damp warning that the rain was coming. She walked fast, praying she'd make it to the store before the clouds broke.
Halfway down the block, the first cold drop landed on her cheek. Then another. Within seconds, the sky opened up, rain falling in messy, uneven sheets.
"Perfect," she muttered, tucking her chin down and quickening her pace. The cramps in her stomach twisted again, making her wince.
A low rumble of an engine drew her attention just as a sleek black sports car turned the corner. It sped toward her side of the street, tires slicing through a wide puddle.
WHOOSH—SPLASH!
Freezing, muddy water exploded against her legs and splattered across her hoodie. She stopped dead, staring down at herself in shock.
"You've got to be kidding me," she breathed.
Tessa froze, drenched from the knees down, as the black sports car eased to a stop. The tinted window rolled down, revealing the most infuriatingly handsome face she'd ever seen — and the smirk that made her want to throw something.
"You just splashed me with mud water, and you couldn't even say sorry?" she demanded.
Hardin's eyes flicked over her, slow and dismissive. "Do you know who I am? I don't say sorry."
Her jaw tightened. "Oh, really?"
He stepped toward his door. "Smelling bitch, move out of the way. I've got no time for you."
The words burned. She grabbed his wrist before he could duck back into the car. "Repeat what you just said."
He tilted his head, smiling like he was testing her. "Smelling bitch."
Smack! Her palm cracked across his cheek, the sound sharp against the rain.
"That's gonna reset your brain and maybe teach you some manners, moron." She hissed the words at him and turned on her heel, stomping away toward the store.
Hardin stood frozen for a beat, hand pressed to his cheek. "She didn't just slap me…" His voice was low, almost amused, but there was a glint of something darker in his eyes.
"Oh, no way. She's not going scot-free. Marked her face already."
He slid into the driver's seat, gunned the engine, and the car roared away.
JORDAN'S PLACE*
The rain came down in sheets, hammering against the roof of Hardin's car. He killed the engine, the headlights casting pale beams across the wet pavement before fading to black. Stepping out, he didn't bother with a jacket—the cold drops soaked into his hair, trailing down his jaw, but he walked like the weather didn't matter.
Up ahead, the faint bass of music leaked from Jordan's apartment, muffled by the thick walls. A couple of guys leaned under the porch light, smoke curling from the end of Capri's cigarette. Anderson stood beside him, hood pulled low, tapping his foot to an invisible beat.
"You guys are here," Hardin said casually, adjusting the cuffs of his leather jacket.
"We got to practice for tomorrow night's concert, man," Capri replied, flicking ash into a puddle.
Hardin's eyes shifted to the open doorway. "Jordan."
Jordan appeared in the hallway, one hand resting on the doorframe, that sly grin never leaving his face. He gave a slow wink. "They're in the room."
A knowing smirk tugged at Hardin's lips.
"Bad boy!" Capri and Anderson jeered in unison, their voices half-teasing, half-impressed.
The apartment smelled faintly of liquor and perfume, the air heavy with something warmer—something alive. Hardin's boots echoed against the floor as he made his way past the dimly lit living room, where empty bottles and a half-played game of cards lay abandoned.
He pushed open the last door at the end of the hall, the hinges giving a lazy creak.
And there they were—two girls sprawled across the bed, laughter spilling from their lips as they tangled together in the rumpled sheets. Their eyes found him instantly, a spark of mischief flashing between them.
"Nice view," he drawled with a wicked smirk as he stepped to the bed. The two girls reached for him instantly, their hands roaming over him as he fingered both of them.
"Ahh…" they moaned together, their voices trembling, as Hardin kept working them over, his other hands squeezing their boobs like he owned them.
"On all fours, now," he commanded, his voice low but sharp. They turned without hesitation, and he tugged his trousers down—his dîck bouncing free—before sliding into one of their pußßy.
"Fvck! Ahh!" she cried, gripping the sheets as Hardin drove into her from behind.
"That's it… scream for me, bitch," he growled, his pace ruthless, as if every ounce of his aggression was being hammered into her.
He pulled out abruptly, glancing at the other girl, who was already fingering herself. A dark grin curved his lips as he stepped to her.
"Couldn't wait your turn, huh?" he taunted, pressing his dîck into her without warning.
"Ahh… shit!" she moaned, her back arching as Hardin slammed into her nonstop.
EVENING — CRISTIN'S SMALL APARTMENT
"Mum!" Tessa ran to meet her mother as she stepped inside, still looking weary from the day. She had just arrived home.
"You're looking sad. What's wrong?" Tessa asked, gesturing for her to sit down as she took the bag from her hands.
"Go get me a glass of water," Mrs. Cristin said softly. Tessa hurried to the kitchen and returned a moment later, handing her the glass.
"So… can you tell me what's wrong now?" Tessa pressed.
"I'm just tired, that's all," Mrs. Cristin replied, taking a sip.
"You're lying, Mum," Tessa said firmly.
Mrs. Cristin sighed. "Alright… it's about the rent. The landlord has threatened to throw us out if I don't pay soon."
"Mum, I have some savings—we can at least pay him half the rent," Tessa offered quickly.
"No," her mother shook her head. "You've been saving that money for your school expenses. It's my responsibility, and I'll find a way around this."
Just then, her phone began to ring. She scrambled through her bag, pulled it out, and answered.
"Hello?" she said, her tone shifting slightly. "Yes… yes, I'm here."
Tessa watched her mother's expression soften as the person on the other end spoke.
"Alright. I'll be there tomorrow morning," Mrs. Cristin replied before ending the call.
"Who was that?" Tessa asked.
"The house-help agency," her mother said with a small smile. "They've found me a new placement. I start tomorrow.
"Ahhh, really?" Tessa said excitedly, her eyes lighting up.
"Yeah! I'm so happy I finally found a job," Mrs. Cristin beamed.
"Me too!" Tessa laughed, throwing her arms around her mother in a warm hug.
NEXT MORNING
Tessa and Mrs. Cristin sat on the couch in the Whites' Mansion, their bags neatly packed beside them. Tessa was still grumbling, clearly unhappy with the arrangement.
"Mum, you could've just paid the rent instead of staying here," Tessa whispered. "I don't like living with all these rich people. They'll see us as trash and disrespect us—obviously."
"This is the best choice, Tessa, so you'd better stop talking," Mrs. Cristin replied firmly. Their voices stayed low, careful not to be overheard.
The sound of footsteps echoed from the staircase, and they both stood up quickly. Mr. and Mrs. White were coming down.
"Good morning, madam. Good morning, sir," Mrs. Cristin greeted politely.
"Good morning, ma'am. Good morning, sir," Tessa echoed.
"You're the new house help, right?" Mrs. White asked.
"Yes," Mrs. Cristin answered.
"Alright, you can have your seat," Mrs. White said with a nod.
Just then, Hardin walked in, drawing everyone's attention.
Tessa's eyes widened instantly—it was him. The same guy who had splashed mud water on her yesterday and never apologized. Hardin's gaze locked on hers, equally surprised.
Oh, shit. It's gonna be hot living here, Tessa muttered under her breath.
"Where are you coming from?" Mrs. White asked her son.
"Stop asking like you care," Hardin shot back.
"You don't talk to your mother like that, you brat," Mr. White snapped.
Hardin ignored him, pointing toward Tessa and her mother. "What are they doing here?"
"She's the new house help, and that's her daughter," Mrs. White replied.
"Nice one," Hardin muttered sarcastically, glancing at Tessa before heading upstairs. Tessa glared after him.
"Ignore him—that's my son, Hardin," Mrs. White said with a sigh.
"So, have you decided to live here or come from your place each day?" Mrs. White asked, turning back to Mrs. Cristin.
"We'll live here. It's the best option," Mrs. Cristin replied.
Tessa's frown deepened at her mother's words.
"Alright, I'll show you to your room," Mrs. White said, gesturing for them to follow.
LATER ★
The hallway was quiet, sunlight spilling through the tall windows and casting gold patterns on the polished floor. Tessa had just left the small guest room she and her mum were given, still looking around and trying to memorize the place.
She turned the corner—and collided hard with someone.
"Watch where you're going," a familiar, deep voice snapped.
Tessa froze. Great. Of course it had to be him.
"You should be the one watching where you're going," she shot back, straightening herself.
Hardin's lips curved into a mocking smirk. "Still got that attitude, huh? You're in my house now—better learn some manners."
"I didn't know basic respect was taught in this house," she replied coolly, her chin tilting up.
His eyes narrowed slightly. "Careful, princess. You might find it harder than you think living here."
"I'm not scared of you," Tessa said firmly.
"You're sure?" Hardin said, stepping closer until Tessa's