The Only Girl in the Penthouse
773 Views · Ongoing · Sherry
I was born a girl — and immediately erased.
Raised as a boy, obedient to the last breath, I played the role they wrote for me.
Until the day they decided I was no longer useful.
I died with a cursed pendant around my neck and hatred in my heart.
That hatred broke the seal — and with it, every lock the pendant had spent generations holding shut. The gifts of women in my bloodline. Buried. Chained. Gone.
Until they weren't.
I woke up with it all.
To stay out of my parents' reach — already hunting me down to finish what they started — I enrolled in a boarding school. I didn't expect four roommates.
All insufferably, infuriatingly popular.
The overachiever — brilliant, laser-focused, and allergic to anything that isn't a textbook.
The quarterback — cocky, hot-headed, and a man who has never heard the word no and clearly doesn't plan to start.
The golden boy — all sunshine and smiles, a culinary genius who somehow also writes code that makes engineers cry.
The artist — quiet, intense, and disturbingly devoted in ways that feel less like admiration and more like obsession.
One by one, something shifts. The way they look at me. The way they linger.
I don't have time for this. I have powers to master, a past to bury, and a future to claw back.
Oh, and one more thing.
I have a fiancée.
Raised as a boy, obedient to the last breath, I played the role they wrote for me.
Until the day they decided I was no longer useful.
I died with a cursed pendant around my neck and hatred in my heart.
That hatred broke the seal — and with it, every lock the pendant had spent generations holding shut. The gifts of women in my bloodline. Buried. Chained. Gone.
Until they weren't.
I woke up with it all.
To stay out of my parents' reach — already hunting me down to finish what they started — I enrolled in a boarding school. I didn't expect four roommates.
All insufferably, infuriatingly popular.
The overachiever — brilliant, laser-focused, and allergic to anything that isn't a textbook.
The quarterback — cocky, hot-headed, and a man who has never heard the word no and clearly doesn't plan to start.
The golden boy — all sunshine and smiles, a culinary genius who somehow also writes code that makes engineers cry.
The artist — quiet, intense, and disturbingly devoted in ways that feel less like admiration and more like obsession.
One by one, something shifts. The way they look at me. The way they linger.
I don't have time for this. I have powers to master, a past to bury, and a future to claw back.
Oh, and one more thing.
I have a fiancée.

















































