Novels by Chi

Liara hadn’t expected the halls of the Kane estate to feel this… still.The sun had barely risen. Pale light spilled through the tall windows, washing the dark marble floors in silver. Celeste had disappeared after breakfast, leaving only the faint scent of her jasmine perfume in the air. Asher had stepped out with a clenched jaw and silent rage coiled beneath his suit, offering no explanation, just a muttered, “I need a moment.”And now, Liara found herself wandering the quiet corridors alone, the silence stretching longer than she liked.She decided to step outside.The gardens were still wet with dew. Cool, fresh, and almost otherworldly, like something out of a forgotten fairytale. She walked slowly, barefoot on the grass, letting the morning hush settle over her nerves. It grounded her in a way the estate never could.Something that settled behind her ribs when Asher walked out that door.Maybe it was foolish to care that much. Maybe it was dangerous.But it was already done.She

But Liara was still seated at the table, her fingertips lightly tracing the edge of the gold-rimmed plate as if it could anchor her in this new, uncertain calm.Celeste had gone off somewhere—probably to torment a butler or dig into the mysterious “south wing” rule. But Liara stayed. Not because she had to.Because, for once, she didn’t want to move.She didn’t want to break the spell.The silence was softer here. Not the silence of fear or power, but of quiet walls and lingering laughter. It was almost cruel—how something so simple as breakfast could feel like the rarest thing she’d ever had.Footsteps again. Slower this time. More deliberate.She didn’t need to turn to know it was him.“I thought you left,” she said softly.Asher’s voice was calm. “I did.”A pause. Then he added, “I came back.”Liara finally looked at him. He wasn’t dressed like earlier. The black jacket was gone. His sleeves were rolled up, and there was a faint smear of something—dust? grease?—on his forearm.Like

The smell of warm bread and softly brewed tea reached Liara before she stepped into the sunlit room. She paused at the threshold. Three plates. Three chairs. And Celeste—already lounging barefoot on a cushioned bench, one leg tucked under the other, a strawberry between her fingers and a smirk on her lips. “Well, finally,” Celeste said. “I was starting to think you Kane boys don’t let your women eat.” Liara blinked. “You made this?” “I organized it.” She waved lazily. “I don’t do the slicing and frying—I delegate. That’s what power is for, darling.” Liara gave a small laugh. It slipped out before she could stop it. Celeste beamed, like she’d scored a point. “Come,” Celeste said, patting the empty chair beside her. “Before he gets here and ruins the mood.” Liara sat, still tense, but not as stiff as she would’ve been days ago. The plates were beautiful—soft gold rims, the food arranged like a painting. Fruit cut into perfect angles. Eggs warm and fluffy. Toast stacked

The storm never truly passed. It just slipped beneath the surface.Liara sat in silence, watching the shadows move across the high walls of her room. The letter—She was never just yours—still lived under her skin like a brand pressed to her ribs.She hadn’t seen Asher since the surveillance feed revealed the figure entering her room at 3:27 a.m.Barefoot. Unmasked. Bold.Someone who knew the estate. Who moved like they belonged.Who left no trace—except the message inside her closet.She stood, restless, skin prickling like it had memory of its own. She needed to move. Breathe. Hit something.Or find him.⸻She found him in the training room.It was dim, raw, and echoing with the steady thud of fists against leather. Asher stood shirtless, his body a map of control and consequence. His knuckles were wrapped but still bleeding beneath the tape.Each strike he landed against the hanging bag was precise. Violent. Like his thoughts had fists of their own.Liara didn’t speak at first. She

Her name?Asher crossed the room in a few silent steps, taking the envelope from the tray the servant extended. Thick. Heavy. Cream-colored paper, edges scorched like someone had dragged it too close to flame.He opened it without a word.Liara watched his face—and didn’t miss the flicker of tension that moved across it like a shadow.He passed it to her.No words. Just a single phrase written in looping black ink:“She was never just yours.”Liara’s breath caught.The handwriting was familiar.But she didn’t know why.Not yet.She stared at the paper, fingers trembling just slightly—something Asher noticed, even if he didn’t speak on it. The curve of the letters… the pressure of the ink. It pulled at something buried deep inside her chest, something she’d locked away.Something that scratched now, begging to be remembered.“I want to know who sent this,” Asher said, voice sharp, already slipping into his war-command tone.The servant cleared his throat. “Sir… it wasn’t delivered to t

When the meeting finally adjourned, chairs scraped back slowly. Some left without a glance in her direction. A few eyed her warily, like a variable they couldn’t quite solve.And then they were alone.The doors clicked shut behind the last advisor, and silence swallowed the room.Liara didn’t look at him.Not at first.She stood slowly, palms pressed to the polished table. The same spot where twelve heads had once turned to silence her. Not one of them had succeeded.“I woke up and you were gone,” she said, her voice calm but not cold. “No note. No word. Just an empty bed.”Asher said nothing.She finally turned, eyes meeting his. There it was again—that flicker of sadness buried beneath the fire. But now it wasn’t alone. Now it danced with anger.“Was that deliberate?” she asked. “Was I meant to feel forgotten?”His gaze didn’t flinch. “You were meant to be tested.”“And what did I prove, Asher?” Her voice was softer now, but laced with something bitter. “That I can still walk into a