FATAL TROUBLE (REVERSE HAREM)

Part 54

Your delicate fingers wrapped around the pendant. The delicate heart-shaped pendant resting against your chest felt cool beneath your trembling fingers. Its cold touch offered an inexplicable comfort, grounding you as you tried to steady your breath. You held it tightly, almost as if it were your lifeline. With your eyes closed, the faintest smile graced your lips, though your heart hammered against your ribcage like a restless bird.

The spotlight bore down on you, isolating you in its glow, though you were anything but alone. The boys surrounded you, their varying expressions painting a mosaic of emotions—desire, admiration, denial, and, most poignantly, love. Each gaze held its own story, a silent declaration that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

You forced yourself to meet their eyes one by one, giving each a fleeting glance. Their gazes lingered, drinking in your every move, except for one. When your eyes landed on Sunghoon, his fluttered away, avoiding yours with a hurriedness that almost stung. His jaw tightened, and his shoulders stiffened as though bracing himself. His eyes betrayed him, however, unable to hide the longing that simmered beneath the surface. He wanted to hate you, to push you away, but that desire only seemed to deepen the ache that tethered him to you.

He is falling for you even more.

The warmth of another hand gently clasping yours pulled you from the trance. Sunoo. His touch was soft yet firm, steadying you as he handed you a microphone. His warm smile encouraged you, even as murmurs rippled through the crowd, their hushed voices fueling your anxiety.

The announcer's distant voice echoed through the room, asking you to introduce to the audience that felt both welcoming and judgmental. Your heart raced. The crowd's eyes bore into you, some expectant, others skeptical. At the front table, four men stared at you with sharp, piercing gazes, their scrutiny sending a chill down your spine. Their fathers. Beside them sat four women, their expressions a mixture of disbelief, irritation, and disdain. All except one—Winter. Her kind eyes met yours, and with a soft smile and a subtle nod, she clasped her hands together in silent encouragement.

Your throat felt dry, and your chest tightened as you brought the mic to your lips. "My name is Isabella Brown," you began, your voice trembling slightly but gaining strength as you went on. "I'm from Australia, I came to Milan for a trip with my aunt and...I'm glad to be here, attending this big event with my...my..."

The words stuck in your throat. What were they to you? Friends? That seemed too simple, too dismissive of everything they had done for you. Of everything they had shown you. Love, devotion, wonders. Could you even begin to define it?

The silence stretched uncomfortably as the crowd's whispers grew louder. You clenched the pendant once more, drawing strength from its cool reassurance, and smiled softly. Finally, you found your voice again.

"My Royals."

The boys eyes sparkled when the literal angel — a Queen standing under the shimmering light claimed them as the royals. Her royals.

The power, money, connections, everything felt so foreign to them except your voice that echoed with your claim over them. This is really a surprising fact that how a girl can captivate them and their whole soul in just two weeks.

The room erupted into applause, a wave of sound that filled the space. The clapping came from every direction, but you paid it little mind. Your eyes sought only one thing—the seven boys who had become the center of your world. Turning to face them fully, you brought the mic back to your lips, your voice steady now.

"Thank you so much for everything, my Royals."

The words carried a sincerity that cut through the noise, silencing the whispers. For a moment, it was just you and them, your gaze locking with each of theirs.