Chapter 2 A House Built On Lies

Amelia didn't sleep.

Even as the house settled into silence, the kind that crept through walls and pressed down on your lungs, her mind remained alert. Every creak of the old pipes, every shift of the wind against the windows felt like a warning. She lay still in the unfamiliar bed, staring at the ceiling's gilded carvings, feeling more like a prisoner than a guest.

By morning, the air in the room had turned cold. A fine mist clung to the glass panes, distorting the view of the manicured gardens below. She forced herself up, dressed quickly, and tied her hair back before stepping into the hallway.

It was early-earlier than anyone else, she guessed-but she needed to breathe before the performances resumed.

Downstairs, she found the kitchen by accident. It wasn't the one used for catering or formal meals, but a smaller, tucked-away space that probably served staff. It was still larger than her entire apartment back in the city.

"Coffee?" a voice asked from behind.

Amelia turned, surprised.

Leo stood there, barefoot, a hoodie pulled over his head, and dark stubble shadowing his jaw. He didn't look like the heir to a dynasty. He looked like a man trying to forget he was part of one.

"You don't strike me as a morning person," she said, folding her arms.

"I'm not. Insomnia runs in the family." He reached for a mug and poured her a cup. "Milk? Sugar? Or are you one of those black-as-sin types?"

"I like mine strong. Like my survival instincts."

Leo grinned and handed her the mug. Their fingers brushed for a second-just enough to spark something unspoken between them.

"Smart girl," he murmured.

They sipped in silence for a few moments, the kind of quiet that felt oddly comfortable despite the razor tension from the night before.

"Did she come for you last night?" Leo asked.

Amelia frowned. "Victoria?"

He nodded.

"No. Should she have?"

Leo chuckled darkly. "That's either a good sign or a very bad one."

She studied him. "You really hate her."

His jaw tightened. "Hate is too simple a word. It's more like... I see her. And she sees me. That's the problem."

"Because you're not hers."

"No," he said. "Because I never pretended to be."

The words hung between them, brittle and real. Then, almost as if realizing he'd said too much, Leo downed the rest of his coffee and stood.

"You should watch Julian," he said casually. "He plays a long game. And he never loses."

"Are you warning me or trying to scare me?"

He looked at her, eyes dark. "Sometimes they're the same thing."

Then he was gone.

By nine, the Hawthorne estate had transformed again-into a polished machine of power, wealth, and ceremony. A car waited outside to take Amelia to the Hawthorne Foundation's offices, where she'd begin her probationary trial as Victoria's personal assistant.

She expected a stiff driver, but instead, Julian slid into the car beside her, impeccably dressed and freshly shaven. His cologne was faint but sharp. His smile was practiced.

"I thought I'd join you today," he said.

"I didn't realize shadowing came with the job."

He turned to face her, amused. "I like to know who walks through our doors. Especially when they've caught Leo's attention."

She didn't answer. Julian leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.

"My brother has a way of making people think they're special. It's a survival tactic. One he perfected in this house."

"And you don't?"

"I don't pretend."

Amelia smiled, just a little. "No. You calculate."

To her surprise, Julian laughed softly. "You might survive this family after all."

The ride to the office was smooth and fast. When the elevator doors opened, Amelia was met with pristine floors, glass walls, and the distinct hum of ambition. The Hawthorne Foundation building was everything the estate was not-modern, bright, and masked in a professional polish.

Victoria was already in her office, seated behind a massive desk that looked carved from pure obsidian.

"You're late," she said without looking up.

"It's 8:55," Amelia replied.

Victoria's gaze lifted, cool and unimpressed. "And yet, time waits for no one."

Julian slipped in behind her. "I held her up."

Victoria didn't respond to him. Her eyes never left Amelia's.

"I hope you understand that being here is not a right. It's a test. One I suggest you pass."

"I'm not afraid of failing," Amelia said.

Victoria's lips curved faintly. "You should be."

For the rest of the day, Amelia followed Victoria like a silent shadow, taking notes, organizing files, answering calls. The work wasn't difficult-but the atmosphere was suffocating. Everything was designed to intimidate, to push her into mistakes.

And yet, she made none.

When they returned to the estate that evening, Victoria paused before disappearing down the hall.

"You lasted one day," she said without turning. "Most don't."

"Then I guess I'm not most people," Amelia replied.

Victoria smiled to herself. "That remains to be seen."

That night, Amelia wandered.

The estate was too quiet, too still. She found herself near the west wing-where she'd been told not to go. Curiosity tugged at her heels.

She pushed open a heavy wooden door.

Inside, the lights were dim, and the air smelled faintly of cedar and old smoke. It was a library, but unlike the curated one downstairs, this room felt forgotten. Dusty shelves. Hidden nooks. A place for secrets.

"You're not supposed to be here," Leo said from the shadows.

He was seated on a worn leather chair, a book in one hand, a glass of something dark in the other.

"I was told not to come here," Amelia replied. "That's not the same."

He smirked. "You're learning."

She stepped further inside, brushing her fingers along a shelf. "What is this room?"

Leo's voice dropped. "The part of the house they want to forget."

"And you?"

"I live here," he said simply. "Among the ruins."

She looked at him closely then. For all his arrogance, his quick wit, Leo's eyes carried weight. Not sadness exactly. But pain shaped into armor.

"Why do you stay, Leo?" she asked.

He didn't answer immediately.

Then: "Because I want them to see what they tried to bury."

The silence between them pulsed with something electric.

"I think you're braver than they are," Amelia whispered.

Leo's eyes locked on hers. "Don't romanticize me. You'll only get hurt."

"I'm not here to fall in love."

He stood slowly, stepping toward her. "Good. Because love in this house is just another form of control."

They were inches apart now, breath tangled in the dim room.

"You don't scare me," she said.

He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers grazing her cheek.

"You should be," he murmured.

Amelia held his gaze. And for a moment, everything stilled.

But then she stepped back. Not in fear-but in defiance.

"Goodnight, Leo."

And she walked away, leaving him alone in the darkness.

As she reached her room, another message lit up her phone.

Julian: Curiosity is dangerous. Don't get too close to him.

Seconds later, a second message appeared.

Leo: You're playing with fire. Hope you know how to dance in it.

Amelia stared at the glowing screen.

This wasn't just a house of secrets.

It was a battlefield.

And she was standing in the center, with two brothers pulling her in opposite directions.