Irene_Fejiro

In the heart of a bustling modern city, two worlds collide.

Emilia Stone is the poised and polished heiress to a powerful corporate empire. She lives a life of elegance, expectations, and control—where love is an accessory and vulnerability is a weakness. But beneath the designer dresses and media-perfect smile lies a woman who craves something real.

Sebastian Lores is everything she’s been warned about—rough around the edges, fiercely independent, and unapologetically working-class. He fixes engines by day and minds his own business by night… until a spilled coffee and a sharp-tongued heiress turn his routine upside down.

Their worlds could be different, but their chemistry is undeniable.

As passion ignites between them, Sebastian and Emilia must navigate not only their growing desire, but the harsh glare of judgment, secrets from the past, and the dangerous game of falling for someone completely off-limits.

Will their forbidden flame burn them both—or forge something that can’t be broken?

Forbidden Flame.

Sebastian looked up from his sketchpad, heart thudding. He hadn't expected her—not tonight, maybe not ever. But something in him had told him to wait. To leave the door unlocked. To believe.

When he opened it, Emilia stood there—coat wrapped tight, eyes shadowed by exhaustion. But she didn't look fragile.

"Hi," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

Sebastian stepped aside without a word, letting her in.

The apartment was dimly lit, warm in contrast to the sleek glass of her world. A kettle steamed gently in the background. The air smelled faintly of cedar and graphite.

She sat on the edge of the couch, hands clasped in her lap. Silent for a while.

Then: "I confronted my brother today."

Sebastian sat across from her, letting the words come on their own time.

"He didn't deny it. The files. The betrayal. He... wanted to see me fail."

There was no bitterness in her tone. Just disbelief.

Sebastian leaned forward. "And yet, here you are. Standing."

"I'm tired of standing alone," she said quietly.

He reached for her hand. She let him.

"I didn't know if I should come," she admitted. "After everything. The scandal. The silence. Me, pulling away when you never asked me to."

"I wasn't keeping score," he said.

"I don't want to be a crisis to you," she murmured.

"You're not," Sebastian said. "You're the moment after the storm."

Her breath hitched, just slightly.

He didn't move closer, didn't push.

But the space between them softened.

And when she finally leaned into his chest, it wasn't desperate. It was grounding. Her head rested against him, her breathing quieting like waves finally settling on the shore.

They stayed like that, wrapped in a silence more intimate than any kiss.

Emilia still rested against him, her fingers loosely curled in the fabric of his sweater.

"I used to think vulnerability was a luxury," she murmured. "One I couldn't afford."

Sebastian's fingers traced slow circles on her back. "Because of your father?"

She nodded against his chest. "He raised us like heirs, not children. We didn't cry. We didn't want. We earned. We endured."

She paused. "Even when it broke us."

Sebastian's heart tightened. "And your mother?"

"She was... beautiful. Tragic. I think she stopped trying to be seen long before I was old enough to understand why."

She sat up slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. The faint glow of the lamp cast soft shadows on her face.

"Sometimes I worry I don't know how to love without armor."

Sebastian offered a quiet smile. "Good thing I know how to wait."

She searched his face then. Not for promises. But for truth.

"You've been patient," she whispered.

Then, softly: "What about you?" she asked. "What did you learn to survive?"

He exhaled slowly. My mother worked three jobs. My father was gone by the time I turned nine. I grew up learning how not to ask for too much."

A faint smile curved his lips. "Until I met you. And wanted everything."

Her eyes glistened, but she didn't blink them away.

"I don't know where this ends," she said. "This... us."

"I don't need to know yet," he said. "I just want to be where you are."

And this time, when she leaned in, it was deliberate. No urgency. No fire. Just a slow press of lips—gentle and steady.

Chapter 12