Chapter 11 — My Betrayal

Killian’s POV

I finally had something real, and it was beginning to feel mine but my hesitation had spoiled it.

I stared at her back as she walked to her broken room. Each step she took gave a sound of thunder and at each sound, my heart tore.

Like my light was slipping from my hand— she was my light, but now she had left me in my dark, empty world, and it was all my fault. 

I wasn't terrified that she left, I was terrified that she didn't cry. I wouldn't be happy if she had, but it would have been better if she had cried. It would have shown that she cared and that there was still emotion.

But I had seen the light in her eyes get dimmer and dimmer until it was gone like she had given up; she no longer believed in hope.

The wall which I once felt that had begun to give way for me, that had begun to crumble, had begun to build up faster than a quicksand. 

My world was crumbling. I knew what to do to build it back up, but I couldn't… I couldn't face her.

Tobias always has bad timing. Why does he always do that, it's like he was watching. He always got his way with things, but this time, I wouldn't let him. Not this time. Not with her. 

She had kissed me on her own without me taking moves that would make her too. I didn't manipulate. I didn't control her. It wasn't for the public, it was for me— the kiss was for me to feel alone.

When Emery kissed me, everything in me stilled—then shattered.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss I was used to. It wasn’t calculated. It wasn’t designed to manipulate, to conquer, or to claim. It wasn’t even about lust—though God knows, I have wanted her since the day I saw her.

No, that kiss was different.

It was messy. Unplanned. Frantic in a way that stripped away all the walls I’d carefully built between us. It was the kind of kiss that asked for truth, not control. The kind that dares you to feel something real—and worse, to admit it.

When her lips touched mine, it was like someone had yanked the ground out from under me. For a second, I froze—not because I didn’t want it, but because I wasn’t sure if I deserved it.

But then I kissed her back.

Harder than I meant to. Desperate. Devouring. Because that kiss tasted like something I never thought I’d be allowed to have—hope. Something that belonged to the boy I used to be before I learned how ruthless this world really was.

She kissed me like she needed me. And I kissed her like she healed me.

And in that instant, all the strategies, all the games, all the cold moves I had made… they didn’t matter.

She was real. And I wanted her.

Not for revenge.

Not for power.

But for everything that made her her. The strength. The softness. The fire in her voice when she was angry. The way her eyes searched mine like they were asking, Can I trust you? And God help me, I wanted the answer to be yes.

But I had already broken it.

The moment that kiss ended, reality slammed back in.

I could still feel the heat of her mouth, the press of her hands, the weight of everything unspoken—but I knew I had to tell her the truth. Because if I didn’t, that kiss would be built on a lie. And she deserved more than that.

She deserved more than me if I’m honest.

But I was too late.

The moment I told her about the leaked photo, the shift in her was brutal. Like watching someone build a wall brick by brick right in front of you—and realizing you’re the reason she’s doing it.

That kiss… it wrecked me.

Because it was the moment I realized what I stood to lose.

Not a pawn. Not a weapon against Tobias.

But her.

Emery.

And when she walked away, I felt it down to my bones.

That kiss could’ve changed everything between us.

Instead, it broke me open—and left me bleeding in silence.

I could have explained early for her instead I played the long game like— I always do and let the one thing that was beginning to feel like mine slip out of my hands

And Tobias had twisted the knife.

She slammed the door and it was louder than the silence that followed

I didn't go after her 

Not because I couldn't but because if I did, I would drag her, kiss her again, and say some stupid things I wasn't supposed to say. 

And she might end up drifting off farther away from my reach. 

After that incident, we didn't see each other. We lived in the house, but still, it was like she wasn't there.

She would eat breakfast before I woke up and go back to her room, and she would eat dinner before I came back from work

And when I passed her room door, the light would be out.

The rest of my weeks passed quickly but slowly — signing off deals, conference meetings, calls, and damage control with PR.  

But with all this going on, my mind was elsewhere— her face. Her voice. The way she had looked at me like I had broken something inside her she wasn't sure could ever be fixed again.

But I could no longer endure her silent treatment. I could no longer live like we were strangers. 

I needed her.

I had had enough and that afternoon, I closed early and drove to the penthouse, Mila was there— at the door, she blocked my path “What you want” she asked arms crossed and a tight smile that said— she wasn't interested in what you want to say and she doesn't want to see your ugly face

I stood stunned, frozen this was my place yet she asked me what I came for

“You do realize that I live and own this place right?” I asked, Leaning on the door frame, a smirk played on my lips

“That isn't of my concern” but her smile didn't soften

“I need to speak with Emery’’ 

She gave me a glare sharp enough to slice through my bones and said flatly “She's not here”

I arched my brow. “Don’t lie to me.”

Mila crossed her arms. “And if I’m not? What are you going to do, Killian? Manipulate her again?”

My jaw clenched. “I didn’t manipulate her.”

She laughed bitterly. “You leaked those photos. You set her up. You let her believe she was falling for someone who actually gave a damn.”

“I do give a damn.” My voice was low but firm.

Mila’s expression didn’t soften. “Then fix it. But don’t show up here expecting her to play house with you again.”

Before I could respond, a crash sounded from behind her.

A glass. Shattered.

My heart seized. “Emery?”

Mila turned, and I pushed past her.

Emery stood in the living room, hands trembling, eyes glassy. A news broadcast played silently on the TV behind her. The screen showed an image of her and Tobias from years ago, a headline scrolling beneath it in bold, cruel letters:

“Scorned Heiress Rebounds with Ex’s Billionaire Brother – Publicity Stunt or Power Move?”

She looked at me, and all the sarcasm she had worn like armor in public fell away.

“You leaked that photo,” she said quietly. “But you didn’t stop the others either. Not the old stories. Not the lies.”

I stepped forward cautiously. “Emery—”

“I was starting to believe that maybe I wasn’t just someone’s pawn,” she whispered. “But now I’m not even sure I’m worth the truth.”

The pain in her voice was a razor blade.

“I was trying to protect you,” I said. “Even if I did it the wrong way.”

“Everyone says that,” she said bitterly. “My father. Tobias. You.”

I reached for her, but she took a step back.

Before I could push further, the doorbell rang.

She blinked. “Were you expecting someone?”

I wasn’t.

I moved to the door and opened it—and immediately stiffened.

Reporters.

Three of them, cameras and microphones in hand.

“Mr. Wolfe, any comment on the rumors that you’re using Miss Sinclair to get back at your brother?”

“Emery, how does it feel to be caught in another scandal involving both brothers?”

Another camera flashed. Emery’s breath caught behind me.

I stepped in front of her. “This is private property. You’re trespassing.”

One of them shoved a mic toward me. “Is it true she’s pregnant with your child?”

Emery gasped behind me. I felt the shift before it happened.

She pushed past me.

She said my name like it was a curse she couldn’t swallow. Like it was too bitter to swallow

My name. On her lips. Cracked and trembling and bruised with betrayal.

I stood there, rooted to the floor, while her voice—tight, sharp—lashed through the air like a whip. Every word she spoke stripped away another layer of armor I thought I’d built too well to ever break.

"You want a story?" she said. And God, her voice…

I’d heard her cry once. I’d heard her angry. But this? This wasn’t just pain. It was the sound of something breaking from the inside out.

“Here’s one—Killian Wolfe used me. Just like Tobias did. Just like every man who thought my pain was currency.”

My breath hitched.

Pain as currency.

I’d never wanted her pain. I only wanted her strength. Her fire. Her resilience. But I had taken her pain and used it as a lever, just like Tobias had, just like every man she’d had to claw her way past. And now… now she saw me as one of them.

“Emery—” I took a step forward, hand half-raised, like I could undo it all with a word, with a touch.

But she wasn’t finished.

Her shoulders shook. Her fists were clenched so tight her knuckles turned white. Her jaw trembled, trying to hold back a storm she could no longer contain.

“And you know what’s worse?” she said, the tears breaking free before she could catch them. “I let myself believe it was different this time. I thought I mattered.”

The words sliced clean through me.

I thought I mattered.

I don’t know what hurt more—hearing that or knowing I’d made her feel the opposite.

Their flashlights were like little explosions and their questions increased, their voice got louder eager to hear juicy gist and Emery was feeding them. But all their voice were distant. Muted. All I saw was her every reaction. 

The way her breath hitched. 

The way her hands trembled

The way her jaw clenches 

Her shoulder shook, her eyes glisten

When our eyes met, I felt it, I felt my betrayal it was there on her face.

And then she turned.

She ran.

Through the hallway. Out the back door. Vanished like smoke before I could reach for her.

And I stood there.

Fists clenched at my sides. Chest hollow and burning. My throat locked around a scream I didn’t dare let out.

I didn’t chase her.

Not because I didn’t want to.

God, I wanted to chase her. I wanted to drop everything, shove past the cameras, and beg her to stay. To forgive. To believe me when I said she wasn’t just a move on a chessboard. That I felt that kiss in my goddamn soul.

But I didn’t move.

Because I knew.

This time wasn’t about fixing what I broke. Not with flowers. Not with promises.

This time was about whether Emery could look at me—not as the man who used her pain—but as the one who regretted every inch of it.

And until that day came…

I stood there.

In the glare of camera flashes.

Drowning in silence.

Waiting in the ashes of what we almost had.