DAMSEL RULES

DAMSEL RULES

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Denzel Ramos doesn't believe in happy endings-not when her father lies comatose after a scandalous accident, her mother's strength is unraveling at the seams, and every bill feels like a battle. Her armor? Cold logic, a killer chess game, and three ironclad rules: 1. Don't fall in love. 2. Don't accept help. 3. Never show weakness. Then Mater Carmeli Scholarium arrives-with their undefeated volleyball team, polished reputations, and two boys who shake the ground beneath her carefully built walls. Sebastian Garcia: the brooding team captain who hides pain behind silence and plays guitar like he's confessing sins. Rich, private, and raised to be untouchable, Basti's eyes say little-until they land on her. Luke Rodriguez: the golden boy with dancer's grace and a grin that disarms at twenty paces. He flirts like it's a language, loves the spotlight, and makes Denzel's heart misstep in all the wrong ways. Both boys see her. Both boys want her. But falling for either of them would mean breaking every rule she's ever lived by. As secrets unravel-including the truth behind her father's accident, a hidden betrothal, and the tangled pasts of those closest to her-Denzel is forced to choose between protecting herself... or finally letting someone in. Set against the backdrop of interschool rivalries, emotional reckonings, and slow-burning love, Damsel Rules is a deeply heartfelt coming-of-age web novel about grief, ambition, trust, and the kind of love that demands more than survival-it demands surrender. Which boy will win her heart? And when the final move is hers to make-will Denzel follow the rules... or rewrite them?

Chapter 1 The Rules of a Damsel

DENZEL'S POV

If you ask me when everything started unraveling, I wouldn't say it was the day my dad crashed his car, or even the moment my mom found out he was cheating.

It was the day I realized people only show you what they want you to see. That even the ones you trust most can vanish-first from your future, then from your heart.

Rule #1: Don't fall in love.

Because love? It's not a fairy tale. It's a performance. A game. And I've never been interested in playing a game I can't win.

I stood outside the ICU room, looking through the thick glass at the machine that breathed for him. My father used to walk with confidence, talk with purpose. Now? He was barely more than a shape beneath sterile sheets.

The monitor blinked steady. Like a heart trying to remember how to beat.

"Ma'am?" A nurse placed a gentle hand on my shoulder.

I didn't flinch. I didn't move. We both knew there was nothing new to say. He wasn't dead, but he wasn't alive either.

I turned and walked out of the hospital.

No miracles. No answers. Just another heavy day stitched into my chest.

-

Rule #2: Don't accept help.

Because help always has strings. Long, invisible threads that tighten when you least expect it.

On the bus ride to school, I pressed my forehead to the window. My earbuds were in, lo-fi playing low.

Outside, Trinidad groaned awake. Horns blaring, street vendors shouting over one another. A vendor passed by yelling, "Palamig!"

I wanted to drink one to ease the heat. But I didn't have coins to spare, not when Ma worked double shifts at the bank and Ivan's job hunt was a joke wrapped in denial.

My fingers clenched around the strap of my tote bag. Not out of fear. Just to stay grounded.

Rule #3: Never show weakness.

Once, in fifth grade, I told a classmate I was scared of beetles. The next day, they left a jar of them on my desk. I fainted. They laughed. Never again.

Three months ago, my father-Antonio Ramos, real estate consultant, family man, fake Superman-drove off the road.

Mangled car. Coma. Secrets.

A week later, Ma found the receipts. Hotel bookings. Unfamiliar names.

She didn't scream. She didn't even confront him. She just adjusted her lipstick, smiled like she wasn't breaking, and poured all her silence into overtime work.

Rule #4: Don't trust people who smile too easily.

Because my mother did. And she still cries when she thinks no one hears her.

If I could tattoo my rules onto my skin, I would. Just to remember.

-

The bus lurched through the rusting gates of Holy Cross Academy.

I sat up and tied my hair back with a practiced tug. My blazer was oversized, hand-me-down from my older brother. My shoes were clean but worn thin at the soles.

"Holy Cross!" the driver called.

I stepped down.

The campus buzzed with the beginning-of-term chaos. Flags flapped from weathered poles. The smell of cut grass clashed with fried street food from the nearby stalls. Students poured in with practiced noise.

Then:

"DENZ!"

I turned just in time to catch Hannah, my human glitter cannon of a best friend, as she launched herself at me.

"You're wearing glitter. Again."

She grinned. "It's spirit day! And I am the spirit."

"You're the ghost that haunts this school," Rheiza deadpanned, appearing with two cups of steaming taho-soft tofu, brown sugar syrup, and pearls. She handed me one.

Bless her.

"You both look like death," Hannah said cheerfully. "Up late again?"

"Yes," I muttered.

Late night chess theory. Budget spreadsheets. Hospital bills. You know, normal college stuff.

We walked past the cheerleaders, who were forming a wobbly pyramid to the beat of some pop remix.

"You're not watching the game later?" Hannah asked.

"What game?"

"Volleyball. Holy Cross vs. Mater Carmeli."

Right. The rival school was visiting today. The same school I'd face at the inter-acad chess tournament. The same school with rich kids who treated tournaments like fashion shows.

"I have chess today," I said.

"Of course you do," Hannah sighed. "But you might want to sneak a look. I heard their team captain is ruin-your-life hot."

"Still not interested."

"You will be."

We passed the trophy wall. An empty center shelf waited for the next interschool chess champion.

I would win that slot. Not for clout. Not even for pride.

For the scholarship.

For the exit ticket.

Out of a house of whispered arguments and unpaid bills. Out of the ICU purgatory. Out of the version of myself that still looked for my Pa in shadows.

Chess was my strategy.

And I never played without a plan.

-

BASTI'S POV

Across town, I sat in the Mater Carmeli courtyard, legs stretched out, trying to pretend the text from my mom didn't exist.

[Family dinner. Wedding planner confirmed. Be present.]

I was 20. Still finishing college. Still figuring out what I wanted.

But apparently, I was also someone's future groom.

"Yo, Captain," Nate waved a spoon in my direction. "You're brooding again. That's dangerous."

"He's always brooding," Luke chimed in. "It's his hobby."

Tim scrolled through his phone, sipping iced Americano. He read a school article, "MCS's Volleyball Gods and their Emotional Support Issues: the documentary."

I didn't answer.

They weren't wrong.

Our team was waiting for the school van to Holy Cross. We were dressed in blue-and-gold varsity jackets like some uniformed boyband.

"Who are we up against again?" Nate asked.

"Holy Cross," Luke replied. "Where your future heartbreaks are currently studying."

Nate grinned. "Let's go."

Biatrice passed by, braid swinging, chess pin gleaming.

"She's facing their top player today," Tim noted. "Shekaira something. Ramos."

That name.

Ramos.

It stirred something in the back of my brain.

A memory? A conversation?

"Let's go," I said, standing.

The van had arrived.

-

DENZEL'S POV

Rule #5: If you're going to win, do it so well they never forget your name.

The tournament venue had been transformed. Velvet cloths. Judges in coats. Chess boards gleaming under harsh white lights.

And in the corner, the Mater Carmeli delegates. Model-perfect, laughing like they already owned the place.

I didn't care.

Not about them. Not about their varsity jackets or high cheekbones or whatever TikTok clout they had.

I was here to win.

But then I saw him.

Broad shoulders. Quiet eyes. Bored expression.

One of them.

I didn't know his name.

Yet.

Biatrice Isidro sat across from me like a queen expecting to win. But I didn't come here to play nice.

I came here to end her.

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DAMSEL RULES
1

Chapter 1 The Rules of a Damsel

13/07/2025

2

Chapter 2 Checkmate and Collisions

13/07/2025

3

Chapter 3 Distractions are Dangerous

13/07/2025

4

Chapter 4 Unspoken Moves

13/07/2025

5

Chapter 5 Rematches and Rumors

13/07/2025

6

Chapter 6 Staring Contests and Snide Comments

13/07/2025

7

Chapter 7 Girl Talk, Gossip, and One Big Dare

13/07/2025

8

Chapter 8 Of Music and Mystery Boys

13/07/2025

9

Chapter 9 Ivan the Jobless

13/07/2025

10

Chapter 10 The Dance Invitation

13/07/2025

11

Chapter 11 The Festival of Almosts

13/07/2025

12

Chapter 12 The Silent Retreat

21/07/2025

13

Chapter 13 The Chessboard Duel

22/07/2025

14

Chapter 14 Ride or Regret

23/07/2025

15

Chapter 15 Distraction and Denials

24/07/2025

16

Chapter 16 One Night, One Confession

25/07/2025

17

Chapter 17 Sweetness is a Strategy

26/07/2025

18

Chapter 18 The Ride That Changes Everything

27/07/2025

19

Chapter 19 The Almost Boyfriend

28/07/2025

20

Chapter 20 Denzel's Mirror

29/07/2025

21

Chapter 21 The Fire Drill

30/07/2025

22

Chapter 22 Stolen Moments and Standing Rooms

31/07/2025

23

Chapter 23 Late Night Labels

01/08/2025

24

Chapter 24 Secret Smells

02/08/2025

25

Chapter 25 Hannah's Masterplan

03/08/2025

26

Chapter 26 Enter the Ice Queen

04/08/2025

27

Chapter 27 The Impact

05/08/2025

28

Chapter 28 Losing Beautifully

06/08/2025

29

Chapter 29 Hospital Hearts

07/08/2025

30

Chapter 30 The Lie

08/08/2025

31

Chapter 31 Half Wins, Full Hearts

09/08/2025

32

Chapter 32 The Cost of Silence

10/08/2025

33

Chapter 33 Tea and Tough Love

18/08/2025

34

Chapter 34 Shoulder Check

19/08/2025

35

Chapter 35 The Unsaid Goodbye

20/08/2025

36

Chapter 36 Rheiza's Realization

21/08/2025

37

Chapter 37 Burnout & Breakthroughs

22/08/2025