CHAPTER ONE
7:22 A.M.
"Mummmm—noooo!"
Noel shot upright in bed, a raw, animal sound tearing out of his throat before he even knew he was awake.
His chest heaved violently as air rushed into his lungs like he'd been drowning and just breached the surface. Sweat drenched his body, soaking the sheets beneath him. His heart slammed so hard it felt like it was trying to break through his ribs.
"No. No. No .....!!"
His hands moved on instinct, frantic and shaking, dragging across his chest, his stomach, his sides. Fingers pressed hard into muscle and skin, searching,counting—expecting to feel wetness, warmth, pain.
Bullet holes.
There were none.
His breathing slowed by degrees, though the terror didn't leave immediately. It never did. The dream always clung to him like smoke, thick and choking, even after he woke.
He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw trembling.
It had been the same dream.
The same one.
Every night.
For twelve years.
Always the scream.
Always the fall.
Always the sound sharp, deafening, final.
Always the blood that wasn't his.
Always the silence afterward.
Noel had been five years old when it happened. Five. Too young to remember the details, too young for his mind to make sense of the horror. His memories of that night were fractured, buried deep beneath time and trauma—but his subconscious never forgot.
So it replayed it for him.
Again.
And again.
And again.
A punishment without an end.
Tears slipped down his temples and vanished into his hairline. He wiped at his face angrily, frustrated more than ashamed. Crying never fixed anything. It never brought anyone back.
He forced himself to look around his room.
Gray walls.
A wide window draped in half-open curtains.
Morning light spilling in like pale silver.
The faint hum of the city outside.
He was safe.
He was alive!.
He dragged a hand down his face and exhaled shakily, then turned his head toward the digital clock on his bedside table.
7:22 A.M.
His eyes widened.
"Oh shit."
He threw the covers off himself and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The room spun slightly as he stood, but he ignored it. Late again. He was always late on mornings after the dream.
He ran a hand through his dark hair and was halfway to the bathroom when—
The door to his room opened.
"Seriously?" a female voice said, sharp with amusement. "Again?"
Noel groaned. "Please tell me you're not here to lecture me."
Tiffany Madison leaned against the doorframe like she owned the space—because, in many ways, she did.
She was dressed in tailored black trousers and a cream blouse, her reddish-brown hair pulled back neatly, already flawless at barely past seven in the morning. There was an effortless confidence about her, the kind that filled rooms without effort.
"You're going to be late again," she said, arms folding. "This is what—three times this week?"
Noel rubbed his face. "Bad night."
"You say that every night."
She pushed off the doorframe and stepped inside, eyes scanning his room briefly. "Get to the shower. Queensley already left for school."
He paused. "She took her car?"
"Yes."
"…So that means—"
"You're not driving," Tiffany cut in flatly.
He sighed. "Do I have to use the train?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Where's your car, Noel?"
He hesitated.
"…I may have forgotten where I dropped it last night."
Her stare was slow. Dangerous.
"Oh my freaking—" She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm telling Mom."
"Please don't," he said quickly. "I promise I'll find it later."
She studied him for a long moment, then rolled her eyes. "Unbelievable."
A beat.
"Go hit the shower," she added. "I'll drive you."
His face lit up instantly. He turned toward her and gave her the most innocent, wide-eyed look he could manage.
"Thank you."
She snorted. "Don't do that."
He grinned.
"You're my brother," she said, turning pink despite herself.
That did it.
Noel burst out laughing, the sound loud and genuine—rare, unguarded.
For just a moment, the weight of the dream loosened its grip.
"Go take your bath," Tiffany snapped, spinning on her heel. "For fuck's sake. I'll be late for work."
She slammed the door behind her.
Still smiling faintly, Noel turned toward the bathroom.
.....
The Madisons..
The Madison household was quiet in the way only wealth and routine could make it—no chaos, no rushing staff, no shouting. Everything ran like a finely tuned machine.
Mr. Madison Moore was the architect of that order.
In his late forties, he carried himself with a calm authority that didn't need to be announced.
Light-skinned, broad-shouldered, and standing at six feet tall, he looked younger than his age—his build still solid from years of discipline and habit.
Once known in business circles as "MMM," his friends had jokingly dubbed him Money Making Machine back when his aviation company first began dominating the skies. Madison Airpeace was now one of the most powerful aviation companies in Aurfell, its name synonymous with reliability and innovation.
He earned quietly. Ruthlessly. Brilliantly.
Mrs. Riley Madison was his equal in every sense.
In her early forties, she had a presence that turned heads without effort. Her caramel complexion glowed naturally, her features sharp yet warm. She ran Riley Cosmetics, one of the most successful skincare brands in Aurfell—built from nothing into an empire through intelligence and instinct.
Despite the wealth, despite the staff, despite the influence—they ran their family tightly. Protectively.
Tiffany, the eldest, had inherited her mother's charisma and drive. In her early twenties, she worked as a manager in Riley Cosmetics, already proving she was more than just an heir.
Queensley, seventeen, was still finding her place.
She attended Evalon High—the same elite institution Noel did—a school reserved for the country's most influential families. Intelligent, observant, and sharp-eyed, she preferred movement to stillness, travel to routine. She had already seen more of Aurfell than most adults twice her age.
And then there was Noel.
The boy who wasn't born a Madison.
But became one.
Noel Madison
Noel had turned seventeen just a week ago.
He had already reached his full height—six feet tall—with a lean, athletic build shaped by years of routine. He worked out every morning, not for vanity, but because it helped quiet his mind. Because exhaustion kept the nightmares at bay.
At Evalon High, he was known for his performance—stronger, faster, more focused than most athletes. Teachers admired him. Students respected him.
But they didn't know him.
His eyes were a pale sea-blue, striking against his dark hair, always distant—like part of him was somewhere else entirely.
He didn't date.
He didn't chase attention.
Emily Jones—his best friend—was always there, grounding him, filling the silence when it threatened to swallow him whole. That was enough.
Or it had to be.
Because some ghosts never left.
Noel stepped into the shower, the water pounding against his skin as steam filled the room. He tilted his head back and let it wash over him, eyes closed.
The dream lingered.
It always did.
But the day had started.
And whether he was ready or not—
Life in Aurfell didn't wait.
Author..
Only¹Praise
End of Chapter One