CHAPTER 6

Livia

"You should have seen your face, Liv. You looked like you had just seen a ghost...no—ten ghosts!"

The laughter of the red-haired girl echoed around me, a sound deep and guttural enough to cause a few of the students who were still there to glance in our direction. 

But I wasn't looking in Roxy's direction. I couldn't help the cold chill that seemed to have seeped into my bones.

"That wasn't funny, Roxy. Not at all," I stated, crossing my arms over my chest as if trying to hide from her words.

She raised both hands in mock surrender while giving out another burst of laughter, "Alright, alright...I'm sorry..."

 I just stared at her, my jaw tight. I wasn't just annoyed; I was unsettled. There was a darkness in the lines she recited. “Why would you even say things like that? Where did that come from?”

"C'mon, Liv, relax. Live a little!" she stepped closer, and her tone softened. "So the deal is...Well, I applied to this prestigious academy for acting, and..."

"What acting? When did you start acting?"

"Since Ryan and I… started seeing each other again," she finished in a whisper, her gaze shooting to the floor.

I sighed, a long weary sound "And you wait until now to tell me?"

"I'm sorry, Liv. Truly. I promise it wasn't on purpose," she said, reaching out to grab hold of my hand.

"Sure. It always isn't," I shot back before spinning on my heel and heading in the direction of the double oak doors. They seemed a world away, and even as I walked, I could feel myself feeling stressed already.

"Wait!" she called out, hurrying to keep pace with me as she clicked her heels on the hardwood floor. "Liv! Stop! I haven't told you everything about the acting thing yet. It's really important!" 

"What’s the point? With Ryan around, you will definitely be a star." 

“Seriously? What are you so upset about?” She stepped in front of me, using her hand to stop me in my tracks. “Look, I’m sorry about what I said in class, okay? I was just rehearsing a part from the script I was given, the ‘Betrayed Sister’ scene. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Her face was filled with such genuine guilt that I felt the anger drain out of me and replaced with a dull ache of exhaustion. I was the one acting out.

“It’s fine,” I said, glancing at my watch. “I’ve got to go. My job begins soon.”

She stared at me for a moment, her eyes searching mine. “Alright then. Ryan is outside in the Jeep. We can drop you off.”

“Nope, it’s fine. I can go on my own.”

“You sure? It’s about to rain.” She motioned up to the sky

“One hundred percent, Roxy. Go be an actress.”

I walked towards the North Wing, which seemed more like a corporate compound than a university facility. I stepped inside the elevator that took me directly to the High Flyers wing, a glass-enclosed retreat where the rich and powerful would conduct their confidential discussions.

As the elevator doors glided silently apart, I made my way to exit, already preparing my explanations for why I was late, when all of a sudden, a huge silhouette cast its dark shadow over the lights.

Before i could react, I crashed against a thick barrier of wool and muscle.

The impact sent a jolt through my teeth. I gasped, stepping back so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet, my hands flying up to steady myself against the elevator wall.

He stood there, silhouetted by the bright hallway lights. Mr. Sterling. He didn't even move an inch. He simply stepped into the elevator, the scent of expensive cologne trailled after him. He didn't look at me as he reached out and clicked the button for the ground floor.

“S… sir,” I muttered, “I didn't see you there. I apologize, I was in a rush and—”

“The driver is waiting,” his low voice cut through my stammering. “We should hurry.”

He ignored my apology entirely, his gaze fixed on the closing doors.

The drive to wherever we were going was suffocating. I sat in the farthest corner of the leather seat as possible, clutching my bag and trying to keep my breathing shallow. 

Should I ask where we’re headed? I thought. Is this part of the job? 

Suddenly, the vehicle slowed down as we arrived in front of a huge wrought iron gate, which squeaked open to reveal an immense estate covered by a line of oaks. We made our way down the driveway in the direction of a building that could hardly be called a house.

It was a palace of glass and limestone.

The car came to a smooth stop, and I was immediately ushered inside.

The interior was breathtaking. Everything screamed a level of luxury that would take a century of generations to accumulate. The floors were so polished that it reflected the light from the elegant, cascading chandeliers.

 Even the magazines on the wooden side tables were aligned with terrifying precision. Nothing was out of place. It was a museum of wealth, beautiful, but utterly devoid of warmth.

“Wait here,” Mr. Sterling said, his voice echoed in the foyer as he turned toward a sweeping staircase.

While i was left alone, I drifted toward the main corridor. I was beyond fascinated, my eyes traced the gold leaf on the crown molding. It was too perfect.

That’s when I heard it.

A faint, rough sob.

It was coming from an area behind the long corridors, muffled by the heavy drapes. I stopped in my tracks.  Maybe it's the wind? I hoped. But the sob came again, louder, followed by a shaky, panicked inhale.

I walked slowly, following the sound. It led me to what looked like a small play area tucked behind a grand staircase. Behind a plush, velvet couch, I caught sight of a small figure.

I crouched down, my heart softening instantly.

It was a boy, no more than three years old. He was curled into a ball, clutching a worn-out teddy bear as if it were a life raft. 

“Hey, little one,” I whispered, keeping my voice light. “Are you okay?”

His eyes snapped to mine. He looked startled and terrified.

 What gave me concern was how he looked like a child who expected to be scolded for breathing too loudly. He trembled, pulling the bear tighter on his chest.

“I see you have found my son.”

The deep voice made me jump, my knees nearly giving out. I looked up to see Mr. Sterling standing at the edge of the room.

Little beads of sweat had formed on his brow, and his tie was loosened as if he had been running. But it was his expression that made the air in the room turn to ice.

His jaw was clamped shut, his eyes dark with a simmering, volatile anger that felt directed at the entire world. He wasn’t just pissed; he looked dangerous.