Chapter 1 1

CHAPTER ONE

LIANA'S POV

I was nineteen years old when I walked in on my stepbrother lost in a moment he clearly didn't intend anyone to witness.

I hadn't meant to stay awake. I had just wanted to get a glass of water from the kitchen when I heard it.

Loud and clear.

My name.

"Liana..."

I froze, my heart thumping wildly against my ribs.

It was late that night, exactly 3 a.m. The house was quiet.

Killian had come home for a short visit after being away for a year because of work, though to this day I still had no idea what kind of job he actually did.

He didn't live with us. He had his own house across town and rarely visited. He only showed up on special occasions or when his mother insisted. Since the day my dad married his mom, I had only seen him twice.

I still clearly remembered the first time I laid eyes on him that year, three years ago. My jaw nearly hit the floor. He looked like a walking Greek god, every inch of him giving off power and confidence, the kind you couldn't fake.

But he never noticed me. He treated me like I didn't exist. It hurt more than I expected, but I tried not to take it personally. He was seven years older than me after all. Maybe to him I was just a silly kid. I heard his mother had him when she was barely more than a teenager. Maybe that explained the distance. Or maybe he just didn't care.

When he came home, he didn't even look at me during dinner. He never smiled. Never spoke unless someone asked him something directly. and he never joined in any family talks. It was as if he wasn't even there, even while he sat right at the table with us.

His mother though had been nothing but warm. From the moment she came into our lives, she became the mother I never had. My own mom passed away two years after she gave birth to me, so I never got to know what it felt like to be held by her or called sweetheart or tucked in at night with a kiss.

But Killian's mother filled that hole without hesitation. She loved me like I was her own. and it wasn't forced, it was pure, the kind of love that made me feel safe.

The only one who stayed cold was her son.

Killian never smiled at me. Never spoke to me. Never even acted like I was there except for an occasional cold glance. and yet deep down some part of me always wanted to know what it would feel like if Killian really saw me. If he said my name. If I meant anything to him. Even a little.

So hearing my name from his mouth was something I hadn't expected at all. It was shocking. Wrong. Twisted. But it was also the first time I ever heard him say my name.

And as messed up as it sounds, part of me couldn't stop my legs from moving toward the sound. Every part of me said turn back. But I couldn't. I didn't want to. I wanted to know if it was real.

The door was slightly open. Light spilled out like a secret waiting to be exposed. I pushed it open.

And there he was.

Killian.

My name was still on his lips like he needed it to survive. Like I was the only thing that could save him from whatever fire had taken him.

Shock. Fury. Embarrassment. All in one look.

I didn't breathe. I didn't blink. I just stood there and watched.

Then I made a small sound. A gasp.

His head turned fast. Our eyes locked.

Time froze.

"Get the hell out!" he yelled.

He slammed the door so hard I felt the floor shake under me. I stumbled back, my breath gone, my legs shaking as I ran down the hallway like a girl who had just seen something she could never forget.

I shut my door and fell onto the bed. My heart was pounding.

But not from shame.

From want.

I hated myself for wanting that.

But not enough to stop.

---

The next morning I tried to stay away from him. I stayed in my room holding my breath every time I heard footsteps in the hall. I waited until our parents left before sneaking to the kitchen.

But he was already there.

Waiting.

He didn't let me lie or act like nothing happened.

"Tell me to leave, Liana," he growled, his voice low, as if he was barely hanging on.

His chest was rising and falling against mine, as though he was wrestling with something deep inside.

"I've been telling myself to stay away from you since the second I walked into this house. Every damn night I told myself I'd keep my distance."

He leaned in slowly, "Say the word, Liana. Tell me to go."

I shook my head.

And that was when we crossed a line that could never be uncrossed.

Because I let him.

Yes, I shouldn't have.

I knew better.

But when he held me, when he whispered my name like he'd been holding it in for years... I felt myself losing every bit of resistance I thought I had.

He told me I belonged to him.

He said he couldn't stay away.

And for a moment, I believed him.

But everything broke apart when he realized I had never been with anyone before.

His expression changed from intensity... to shock... to something much colder.

"God. Liana..." he muttered. "I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have let this happen."

He took another step back. His hand dragged down his face, raw and shaking.

"This was a mistake." He said it more to himself than to me. "

He stopped talking. Then he did something that shattered me more than his words.

He pulled out his wallet.

Hands shaking, he took out a thick wad of cash and without even looking at me, without hesitating, he threw it onto me.

"I'm deeply sorry," he muttered.

I flinched.

Tears stung the corners of my eyes.

His jaw clenched. His voice dropped, low and ragged. "I'm sorry."

Then, he turned, walked to the door, opened it.

And right before he stepped out, he whispered it again. Barely audible.

"I'm sorry, Liana."

Just like that... he left.

And he never came back.