The morning sun slipped through the curtains, warm and soft. But inside the mansion, everything felt cold.
Liora sat on the edge of her new bed, staring at the unfamiliar walls. The room was large, too large, with cream-colored wallpaper and heavy furniture that smelled faintly of polish. Yet it felt empty. Lifeless.
She ran her fingers over the silver watch on her wrist. Her father's watch. The only piece of home she still had.
A knock at the door startled her.
"Breakfast is at eight," a maid said quickly, her eyes avoiding Liora's. "Don't be late. Madam doesn't like waiting."
The door shut again.
Liora sighed. So this was her new life. Walking on glass just to keep her stepmother satisfied.
By the time she entered the dining hall, the long table was already set. Crystal glasses gleamed, silverware shone, and the smell of buttered toast and coffee filled the air.
Her stepmother sat at the head of the table, elegant as ever, sipping her coffee. And next to her—Adrian.
He lounged lazily in his chair, one arm draped across the backrest, his tie loose, his hair falling into his eyes as though he'd just rolled out of bed and still managed to look perfect.
His gaze flicked to her the moment she entered. His lips curved.
"You're late," he said smoothly.
Liora frowned. "It's eight on the dot."
Adrian leaned forward, glancing at the clock on the wall. "Eight-oh-one. In this house, that's late."
Her stepmother gave a soft sigh. "Sit down, Liora."
Liora bit her tongue and slid into the chair at the far end of the table. She kept her eyes on her plate, cutting into the toast with careful precision.
But Adrian's gaze burned. She could feel it.
"You look different," he said casually, swirling his coffee. "Not the same quiet little girl who used to follow her father around. What changed?"
Her knife froze for a second before she continued cutting. "People change when life forces them to."
Adrian smirked. "Or maybe some people just learn how to play the victim better."
Her head snapped up, eyes flashing. "Excuse me?"
He leaned back, studying her with lazy amusement. "Don't act innocent, Liora. You think I don't know? You're here to secure your father's inheritance. That's the only reason you're still under this roof."
Her chest tightened. Heat rose to her cheeks. "That's not true."
"Really?" He arched a brow. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're clinging to everything he left behind." His eyes flicked briefly to the watch on her wrist.
Her fingers closed protectively over it. "This watch is mine. It was his gift to me. Don't you dare talk about things you don't understand."
Adrian's smirk deepened, though something sharp flickered in his eyes. "Touchy."
Her stepmother's voice cut through the tension. "Enough, Adrian."
But the damage was done. Liora's appetite vanished, and the air between them grew heavier, thicker, like a storm brewing.
Adrian stood suddenly, his chair scraping against the polished floor. "I'll be late for class," he muttered, brushing past her as he left the room.
The scent of his cologne lingered as he passed, clean and sharp, but all it did was twist the knot in her chest tighter.
Her stepmother folded her napkin neatly. "Liora, you'd do well to remember your place here. Don't provoke Adrian."
Liora swallowed hard, forcing herself to nod. But inside, her heart whispered a different promise.
She wasn't going to let Adrian Blackwood decide her place. Not in this house. Not anywhere.
And if he wanted a fight, then a fight was exactly what he was going to get.