​LIORA'S POV

​On the day of my wedding, I found the man I loved fucking my sister in a hotel bathroom.

​"Ahhh... harder, Oscar!"

​A breathless moan cut through the rushing water, followed by the wet slap of skin against tile.

​My entire body went rigid.

​"I'm coming..."

​That voice.

​Dora?

​Thick steam rolled into the hallway, heavy with his cologne and her floral perfume.

​I rushed toward the door, my fingers gripping my bouquet so fiercely that a thorn punctured my skin. Blood slid down my fingers, staining the white petals red.

​There they were.

​Oscar had my sister pinned against the wet tiles, his hand fisted in her hair. Dora's fingers dug into the same compass tattoo on his shoulder that I used to trace with my own fingertips.

​The bouquet hit the floor with a soft thud.

Neither of them looked up.

​"Don’t worry, baby," Oscar groaned against her neck, slamming her back against the wall.

"Once Liora marries Sterling, we won't have to hide anymore."

​This can't be true.

​I shook my head in denial. He had forgotten her... He swore he loved me and was over his childhood crush.

​"Tell me I’m better than her," Dora groaned.

​Oscar laughed. "You're the fucking best. Liora’s probably twirling around somewhere in her wedding dress like the pathetic idiot she is."

​Every promise he had whispered, every kiss, and every dream we had built together crumbled before my eyes.

I stared at them, waiting for someone to laugh and tell me it was a sick joke.

​No one did.

​That's when it hit me... It wasn't a joke or an April Fool's prank.

​Tears blurred my vision as I stumbled backward to escape, but my legs froze when I caught my reflection in the couple's photo sitting on the nightstand—Oscar kissing my temple, everything in the picture looking so perfect.

​I grabbed the heavy frame, rushed back to the bathroom door, and slammed it against the wall.

​Glass exploded across the tiled floor.

​Dora scrambled backward as Oscar jerked out of her. "Liora—what..." He yanked a towel around his waist. "What the fuck?!"

​I looked at him through my blurred lashes. "Our relationship just shattered like that frame."

​"Liora—"

​I faced my sister, forcing a smile. "Sis... thanks for taking out my trash."

​"What?!" she screamed.

​I gathered the heavy skirts of my wedding gown and walked out.

​Don't cry. Don't you dare cry.

​I sped out of the parking lot, leaving Oscar chasing after me into the hotel lobby.

​Buzz. My phone rang.

​"Dad..." My voice broke.

​"Liora, darling, where are you...?"

​"I'm..."

​"Just come back home. We're waiting for you, dear."

​I nodded, tears rolling down my cheeks as I pulled into the driveway.

Three black SUVs sat on the gravel. My father’s warm, relieved laughter drifted through the open windows—a sound I hadn’t heard in years.

​I stepped through the front door.

​"Dad," I called, ignoring the man sitting near the fireplace.

​Damien Sterling.

​The man I swore to make disappear if he ever came near the Hale family. The son of the monster who murdered my mother.

​He leaned against the mantel, the orange flames casting a sharp, golden light across his chiseled jawline, looking as if he owned the world.

​"What is he doing here?"

​My father smiled, looking from me to him. "Mr. Sterling, your wife is back."

​"Wife?"

​Damien swirled his glass before lifting his dark gaze to mine.

​"Mmh," he murmured. "I knew she would be."

​"What the hell is going on here...?"

​His brown eyes moved from my face down to my ruined wedding dress, finally halting at my hands.

​"Liora, dear..." My father grinned. "Remember I told you that our 30-million-dollar debt was paid...?"

​How could I forget the day I was told a crushing weight had been lifted off my shoulders?

​"He's the one... who paid it?"

​My head snapped back to my dad. "What?"

​"And..."

​"And what?!"

​Thud.

​Damien tossed a file onto the table in front of me.

​My gaze dropped to the bold headline printed across the cover:

​LIORA HALE WILL MARRY DAMIEN STERLING.

​"Liora, dear, you will marry Damien..."

​I chuckled. "You must be joking..."

​Damien set his glass on the table.

​"Go get ready," Damien commanded. "We're leaving now."

LIORA'S POV

​"Dad... I need to talk to you."

​My stepmother's fingers wrapped tightly around my elbow.

​"Liora, dear… your bag. Mr. Sterling has a business trip and doesn't want to waste any time."

​Nobody commented on my ruined wedding dress. Nobody asked about the blood on my palms.

​I pulled my arm away from her. "Dad, I said I need to talk to you. Alone."

​"Liora," my father forced a smile. "You can talk here. He's family now."

"Family?" I laughed. "Are you serious right now?"

​Damien rose from his spot by the fireplace and sat on the sofa, one leg calmly crossed.

​Evelyn tugged on my arm again. "Let's go."

​"Don't touch her," Damien growled. "Go change.

That dress looks pathetic."

​My dad let out a forced laugh. "She's just throwing a tantrum. Come on, Liora. Don't make this any harder than it already is."

“Whatever was going on here... I wouldn't become their victim.”

​Evelyn trailed behind me as I walked up to my room.

The second my bedroom door clicked shut, I changed into jeans and a simple T-shirt, locking the door behind me with trembling hands.

​I rushed to my closet and pulled out the knotted sheets and clothes I'd prepared weeks ago when Oscar and I had planned to elope.

​I forced the window open.

​"Liora, dear? Are you ready yet?" My stepmother's sweet, fake voice echoed through the door.

​"I'm coming."

​I threw the rope out the window and started my descent. My palms burned and tears blurred my vision, but I kept sliding down until my feet finally touched the ground.

​Then I looked up—and my blood ran cold.

​Damien was standing at the window above, watching me. He had one hand shoved in his pocket while the other held a glass of whiskey.

​He smiled and took a sip.

​"Liora... are you not done in there?" My stepmother's voice still drifted from the room above.

​He didn't move or say a word.

​"Liora!" My father's voice shouted from inside the house, followed by a heavy bang against my locked door.

​I ran until I reached my mother's old apartment, my lungs burning and my legs trembling under the strain.

​As soon as I stepped inside, the familiar scent of vanilla and old books hit me like a warm hug.

For the first time all day, there was silence.

​And in that silence... everything hurt at once.

​Tears flooded my eyes as I collapsed to the floor and wept. This place was all I had left of her—the memories of her awful pancakes and the way she used to hold me during storms.

​I dragged myself up, opened a bottle of wine, and drank straight from it. I desperately wanted to drown out the images of Oscar fucking Dora, my father selling me off, and Damien's suffocating gaze.

​Eventually, sheer exhaustion got the better of me.

​I dreamed of Damien.

​Damien slammed me against the wall as if I weighed nothing.

​His mouth attacked my neck with a savage hunger—hot, wet kisses mixed with bites that sent electric shocks straight to my core. My lips betrayed me, parting wide to let him in.

​"You're mine tonight, Liora," he growled against my skin. "You won't breathe. You won't move. You won't exist without me."

​Heat flooded between my thighs as his hard body pressed against mine, his rough hand slipping beneath my dress.

​No... No.

​Yet I moved closer to his touch.

​He let out a loud, mocking laugh.

​I opened my eyes and followed his gaze, my eyes widening in sheer horror.

​A knife was buried deep in my stomach.

​"What... are—"

​The pain tore me apart. Blood spurted out, hot and slick, as he twisted the blade, watching me while I choked on my own scream.

​I jolted upright, scrambling backward into the headboard. My hands tightened around the sheets, my body drenched in sweat as I stared down at my stomach.

​Nothing. No blood. No knife.

​Only the broken wine bottle that had spilled dark red liquid across the white sheets like fresh blood.

​I exhaled shakily, running my trembling fingers through my hair.

​"Is anyone in here?" A heavy bang shook the front door.

​I hurried over and opened it. Two large, rough-looking men stood in the hallway.

​"Miss Liora? You need to vacate the property immediately."

​"What? What do you mean? I own this apartment. My mother left it to me."

​"Not anymore," the tallest one shrugged. "The Sterlings just bought it."

​"What do you mean?" I looked back at the room in panic. "Wait, let me get the deed—"

​"It doesn't matter anymore," the man cut me off. "You have two days to pack up. This whole block is being demolished for a new Sterling development."

​The ground seemed to disappear beneath my feet. The last piece of my mother's legacy... gone. Just like that.

​As the men turned to leave, the taller one paused.

"Mr. Sterling left you a message. You have a choice: go to the Sterling mansion tonight, and he'll decide what happens to you from there."

​They walked away, but my legs remained frozen to the floor, my knuckles white against the doorframe.

​My father had sold the last piece of Mum's legacy to her enemies.

And Damien hadn't chased after me when I ran because he already knew. He had already taken everything... and now he was just waiting for me to walk straight into his hands.

​Buzz. Buzz.

​My phone rang in the quiet room.

​I raised it to my face.

​UNKNOWN NUMBER

LIORA'S POV

I stared at the vibrating phone, my hand squeezing it tightly. Everything around me went quiet.

Buzz. Buzz.

It rang again. Without checking the screen, I switched it off. I didn't care who was calling. I wasn't going to just sit around anymore.

***

"Liora, it was sold to them by a relative," the lawyer said, adjusting his glasses with a tired sigh.

"What?" My voice cracked, disbelief turning into pure fury. "It was registered in my name!"

"He's your father. And these are the Sterlings."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I snapped. "That I should just sit around while my property is stolen from me?!"

"I know you're angry, but even if the signatures were forged... you can't do anything."

"I will take it to court! Even if it means my father has to pay!"

"Taking it to court won't help you..." He leaned closer to me, lowering his voice. "No lawyer will touch this case. No judge will support you, because this is the Sterling family we are talking about. You are trying to fight a war you can't win... Even I can't help you."

I let out a bitter chuckle. It was happening all over again. The exact same way everyone had abandoned my mother.

"Liora, you're still too young to face them. They play a completely different game... Let it go. It was your father's decision."

Too young? I looked at him in silence, noticing the faint tremor of fear in his eyes. He was terrified. He wasn't going to help me.

Suddenly, the television mounted on the wall flickered on.

William Sterling filled the screen, wearing that same venomous, perfect smile he wore ten years ago when he destroyed my mother.

My hand tightened around the edge of the desk until my knuckles turned white.

"That is the head of the family you want to fight," the lawyer whispered, his voice trembling.

"Hello, everyone," Mr. William Sterling said warmly to the camera, his polished voice smoothly filling the office. "I’m truly grateful for your continued trust and support."

“Liora, don't go near them! Run away from them!” my mother's memory echoed in my head. My nails dug deeper into the wood of the desk.

"Your trust gives the Sterling Empire the strength to deliver excellence in every project," William continued on screen. Every word sounded dipped in poison. "Because a better home builds a stronger family. I want every person to live in a place that nurtures love, peace, and beautiful memories.”

Beautiful memories? The man who ruined innocent families was now selling fairytale dreams to the public.

I stood up abruptly from my chair. "I will handle this myself since you're too cowardly to help me," I said, grabbing my folder and my umbrella.

"Liora!" the lawyer called out nervously.

I paused at the door, but didn't turn around.

“...And I have even greater news to share with all of you who have placed your faith in us,” William’s booming voice continued from the broadcast.

"Please be careful," the lawyer urged. "I strongly advise you to let this go!"

“Construction has officially begun on our newest flagship estate,” William announced proudly.

My blood froze instantly as the news camera cut to a live feed of Macas Road—my mother's building.

Bulldozers were tearing through the mud like iron monsters. Demolition workers were hurling furniture and personal mementos out into the pouring rain—her things. My things.

No... No, no, no!

“In the next three to four weeks,” William declared with a wide smile, “a new, beautiful community will rise on Macas Road.”

I turned and stormed out into the rain.

“Liora!” the lawyer yelled, standing up quickly, but I was already running—leaving behind my bag, my documents, and whatever pride I had left.

The rain lashed my face like icy whips, but it did nothing to cool the fire burning inside me.

"Macas Road! Faster, please!" I begged the taxi driver, my voice shattering.

The drive was pure torture. As the car got stuck in traffic, my knee bounced uncontrollably.

“I’m going to catch you!” my mother’s memory echoed softly, her laughing voice chasing me around our old living room.

“Mum!” I laughed, running away from her on little legs.

"Stop right here!" I yelled at the driver, pushing the car door open before he even came to a complete stop.

My knees nearly buckled. My mother's building looked like a slaughterhouse. Bulldozers roared while workers carelessly tossed her belongings into deep mud puddles like garbage. Books were drowning. Clothes lay trampled. My mother's precious vinyl records were scattered across the gravel, their covers ripped to shreds.

I looked up at the front entrance; the door was hanging off its hinges like a gaping wound.

"Throw everything out! Don't leave a single item!" a heavy-set man in an expensive suit barked near the entrance. "Demolition begins tomorrow morning!"

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" I screamed, sprinting toward him.

He picked up the last framed photograph of my mother and tossed it over his shoulder.

Splash.

It hit a murky puddle, the glass shattering instantly.

I stared down at the ruined photo, my chest heaving. "I asked you what the hell you are doing?!" I snapped.

Charging through the mud, I grabbed him by his tie and yanked him down to my eye level. "Who gave you permission to touch my things?!"

"Who the hell are you?!" he shouted, shocked. "Get your hands off—"

"Call your boss out right now!" I demanded.

"Get your hands—" He tried to shove me away hard.

"I will cut off those hands if you lay a finger on my woman."

A deep, lethal voice pierced straight through the sound of the pouring rain.

My body went completely rigid.

Even in my worst nightmares, I would recognize that voice anywhere.

I turned quickly, and the site manager scrambled backward, disappearing into the crowd of workers.

Damien Sterling was standing in the pouring rain—tall, broad-shouldered, and dangerously serene. His tailored black suit clung to his powerful frame like a second skin, the rain tracing sharp lines down his jaw and neck.

His dark eyes were locked onto mine.

"Liora Hale..." he murmured smoothly. His gaze traveled slowly over my drenched body—taking in my trembling hands, my heaving chest, before rising back to my face. "Look at yourself."

He took a slow step closer, using one hand to loosen his tie slightly while my fingers dug painfully into my palms.

"Soaked. Furious. Standing in the middle of a storm," he said, a dark smirk playing on his lips. "Exactly where I wanted you."

"You did this," I whispered through gritted teeth, consumed by rage. "You're erasing the last piece I have left of her."

Damien tilted his head slightly, rainwater sliding down his throat. "I warned you to come to the mansion last night, didn't I, Liora?"

He reached out and gently brushed a wet strand of hair away from his face. "But you ran away... Now look at where that got you."

A wild surge of anger exploded inside me.

His bodyguards moved instantly to intercept me, but Damien raised a single hand, stopping them dead in their tracks.

I closed the distance in three furious strides, grabbed his tie, and yanked him down hard until his face was just inches from mine.

“How dare you,” I snarled.

The entire construction site fell dead silent. The roaring bulldozers, the shouting workers—everything seemed to fade into nothingness.

"How fucking dare you!" I spat, rain dripping down our faces.

Damien didn't flinch. Instead, a slow, dangerous smile spread across his lips as his eyes dropped to my hand tightly gripping his tie.

“Ms. Liora Hale,” he purred, his voice dropping to a low, lethal whisper. “Take your hand off my tie... unless you want this building reduced to rubble before you can even turn around.”