Chapter 5 has been updated, it's no longer repeated I apologise for that. Enjoy the update!
The restaurant is smaller and more intimate than I expected. We've only just arrived, but Tess quickly waves away the waiter, telling her we're still waiting for more people. I try not to think about the last time I was at a restaurant - seven months ago. The most embarrassing, heartbreaking day of my life. Every time Tess tried to take me out after that, I shut her down immediately. She must've been suspicious, but she never pushed. That meant more than she probably realized. "You could at least try not to look like you're about to shit yourself," Tess mutters before taking a sip of water. She looks stunning, as always. My stomach twists the way it always does around her - envy curling tight in my gut - but I push it away. "It's really just Liam," she says, her voice casual. "Like, of all people, he's the last one you should be nervous about. You should be more worried about him trying to get into your pants." I snort, but the joke doesn't land right. Because now my stomach is
LIAM "Aren't you supposed to be some kind of A-list celebrity?" Emilia asks, frowning. She shifts on her feet, trying to re-balance, and I can't help but grin. I'm a full head taller than her, and every time I tilt my head to meet her eyes, she scowls. It makes me laugh every time. "Only in hockey circles," I correct. "But we're probably being stalked by paparazzi right now." It's not even a question-I know that's the case. I've been a hot topic for weeks, ever since the whole mess with Jessica. Even after she confirmed we were never dating, the damage was already done. Now, I can't even walk down the street without being followed. My management won't get off my back, and Coach? He's ripped into me more times than I can count. It's exhausting. All I want to do is play hockey. I never cared about the fame or having to explain myself to the media, especially now that I've been labeled the "bad boy of hockey" who can't keep it in his pants. I don't do relationships. Call me whatev
LIAM When I was a kid, my older sister taught me one important lesson - there's always a gay wedding to crash at Romeo & Julian's around 9 PM. So here we are, heading downtown to kill some time. It's 7:53, and I have Emilia pull up their website to check tonight's dress code. The city outside is a blur of headlights and neon, flashing across the windshield as she scrolls. Whatever she sees makes her snort so loudly that I almost swerve. "This is a horrible idea, Liam." I grin, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. She's shaking her head, but there's a smile pulling at her lips. "Those are my favourite words." "No, like-this is an actual horrible idea. Aren't we supposed to be fixing your image?" She keeps scrolling, biting her lip between bursts of laughter, and something in my chest warms up. At least she's not in that weird, depressing mood anymore. "Nothing screams 'serious relationship' more than attending a wedding." "Crashing. We're crashing a wedding, Liam!" I
I should've known tonight wouldn't be normal the second Liam grabbed my hand.Now, fifteen minutes later, I'm still giggling, scrolling through the most ridiculous wedding cakes I've ever seen-one is an exact replica of The Nightmare Before Christmas, complete with tiny Jack and Sally figurines."This one is hideous," I say, turning my phone toward Liam as we walk into our next stop.He barely looks at it before grinning. "Perfect. Let's get two."I snort, slipping my phone into my pocket. It's weird seeing this side of him. I always pictured Liam as the arrogant playboy who could get anything and anyone he wanted.But the reality? It's so different.I didn't expect him to be this easy to talk to-or the type of guy who'd actually go all-in on crashing weddings. And the fact that he's making me order two atrocious cakes for complete strangers? Weirdly adorable.Warmth spreads through my chest, light and unexpected. I haven't had this much fun in forever, and we haven't even done anythi
With less than twenty minutes to go, I'm certain Liam breaks traffic laws because we make it there, a 24/7 Sweets & Treats shop, in record time. We grab our order and after a quick argument, decide to place them on the backseat."They're going to fall over," Liam warns as I set the cake boxes carefully on the seat.I roll my eyes. "They'll be fine if you drive like a normal person."Liam raises an eyebrow, looking way too smug for someone who definitely should've gotten a speeding ticket five minutes ago. "Normal is subjective."Before I can argue, he opens the passenger door for me with a mock bow. "Your chariot, m'lady."I sigh but slide in anyway, and as soon as he shuts the door and rounds the car, I reach back, bracing the boxes with one hand. Just in case.Liam gets in and scoffs. "See? You don't trust them either.""I don't trust you."He lets out a low chuckle and starts the car. The streets are quiet at this hour, the glow of streetlights casting long shadows as we drive. I c
For once, Liam isn't grinning or cracking jokes. He actually looks like he'd rather be anywhere else, and that throws me off.If he didn't want to be here, why had he been so eager about this wedding? He was the one who rushed us into every open door in East Village, the one who insisted on getting gifts-even if they were ridiculous. He hadn't exactly lit up when he mentioned knowing the groom, but he'd still put in the effort.Then again, a cake wouldn't even crack my top fifty wedding gift ideas. But what would I know? I've never had a wedding, after all.Liam takes the jab in stride, flashing a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Good thing the surprise wasn't for you," he says smoothly, turning to the groom on the right. The tension in his shoulders eases as he takes in the outfit, his lips twitching in amusement. But instead of commenting, he simply says, "Congratulations, Mar. Even if you did just marry an asshole-better an asshole I know than one I don't."The Corpse Brid
The two weeks that followed were... different, to say the least.After pictures of Liam and me surfaced, my life did a complete 180. As Zane's fiancée, I had managed to stay under the radar. But since Zane and I had been together for so long, it didn't take much for people to connect the dots and realise who I was.Tess and I hadn't expected this. While Liam's fans were shocked by the photos-and sure, it was a great PR move-most of the attention wasn't on him. It was on me.I lost count of how many times I scrolled through social media, only to see people calling me a puck bunny, a gold digger, warning Liam to be careful. Then, my bakery's location got leaked.At first, people came just to catch a glimpse of Liam, lingering by the counter, eyes darting around like they expected him to stroll in at any moment. But after days of disappointment-and a few new policies that required customers to actually buy something to stay-the questions started.Were Liam and I really together?What was
EMILIAThe summer before college, Zane got his driver’s license and drove us up to Maine to visit his extended family.My parents had never approved of our relationship. They saw Zane as a country bumpkin — someone beneath our family’s status who was only with me for the connections my last name carried. They would have preferred I married our rival’s son and secured a business merger to expand the family profits.When I put my foot down and insisted that what we had wasn’t some fleeting childhood infatuation — that I loved him — they weren’t happy about it.My sister was too young to understand the weight of my family’s expectations, so she stayed out of it.But my brother? He was always on my side.At least, he was — until I snuck out for that road trip to Maine without telling a soul.Zane and I got into a huge fight somewhere along the way. He pulled over fifteen miles from his grandparents’ house, dropped me off on the side of the road, sent me the GPS location, and drove off.Th
EMILIAIt hurts. God, it hurts to hear her say that. But I also know exactly what it’s like to love someone who never chooses you. And I think of Liam, who I can never choose. My chest twists and that wound he left starts stinging again. So I take a breath and say the only thing I can. “…Okay.” “Can we please talk about this mess now?” I hear a loud thud, like something heavy just hit her desk. Yep — she’s definitely in her home office. Because Tessa, unlike normal human beings, thinks stress is a hobby and work is therapy. Sometimes, I wonder if she throws herself into work because she’s chasing the stable life her dad never gave her… Or if it’s just her way of coping — trying to fill the emptiness he left behind when he made her feel like she was never enough. “What the hell happened?” she snaps. “I swear to God, I’m going to kill that bastard.” I pause, chewing on my bottom lip. There’s no easy way to say this. No cute joke to soften the blow. So I do the hard thing. The
EMILIAIf you ask, I probably won’t be able to explain what the hell just happened.The image of Liam, screaming back at me, shouting declarations I’m sure he doesn’t even mean, then giving me a smile that steals the breath from my lungs like I didn’t just turn him down.Christ.I push Liam to the very back of my mind, holding the blanket tighter to me.First thing I do is check my phone.[BREAKING: Sources Claim Emily Vanderbilt, Billionaire Heiress and Liam Calloway’s Girlfriend, Allegedly Cheated With Chicago Blizzards’ Stone Maxwell last night!] [EXCLUSIVE: Insider Claims Emily Vanderbilt Cheated on Liam Calloway With Hockey Star Stone Maxwell][Puck Bunny or Heartbreaker? Sources Allege Emily Vanderbilt’s Secret Affair With Stone Maxwell] [JUST IN: Allegations Fly as Emily Vanderbilt Accused of Cheating on Liam Calloway With Zane Whitmoore’s Teammate][Sources Spill: Liam Calloway’s Blow-Up With Stone Maxwell Allegedly Tied to Emily Vanderbilt]Me. Liam. Stone. And some mysteri
EMILIAWhat the hell do I even say to that?I just... stare at him. Like an idiot. My mouth opens, but no words come out.Liam gives me this small, sad smile — dimples and all — and somehow that’s worse. It knocks the air right out of my lungs.“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs. His thumb brushes lightly against my hand, like he’s trying to memorize the feel of me. “I didn’t say it because I expected you to.”A million responses spin through my brain — yes, no, maybe, kiss me — but none of them make it out.So instead, I blurt out, “I still don’t forgive you.”His lips twitch. “Deserved.”“And you’re going to have to work for it,” I add, trying — and failing — to sound stern.Liam leans in just a little, like he can’t help himself. His voice drops low, almost like a secret. “Well,” he says, that crooked smile stealing the air from my lungs, “I’d look better begging on my knees anyway.”My heart absolutely short-circuits. And judging by the wicked glint in his eyes, he knows
EMILIAPRESENT TIMEI wake up with a sharp breath, like I’ve just hit the surface after drowning.He's gone again.My chest rises and falls like I’ve been running, chasing something I can’t have. I don’t scream, even though I want to. The pain sits there, right beneath my ribcage, steady and sharp.I feel the wetness on my face. My pillow is soaked. I’m not surprised — I don’t even try to wipe the tears away this time. I just lie there in the silence, with my eyes closed letting the ache settle.Letting the cloud of nostalgia and longing pass so I can finally remember where I am.Where I’m supposed to be.But I don’t fall apart.Not like I used to.I take a deep breath and put a hand over my chest, like I’m trying to hold myself together. The grief is still there. It probably always will be. But so is something else.Me.For a second, I don’t know where I am. I’m still half in the dream — chocolate on our fingers, Luther’s laugh echoing in the kitchen, his hand in my hair, warm and fa
EMILIALuther always leaves the kitchen lights on.Every. Single. Time.It’s why Diana says he has the stealth of a dying elephant and why Mum cuts his allowance every time she finds out he’s raided the fridge at midnight.“Everything in life is a choice,” Mum always says, flipping through her morning paper, while Dad rubs her shoulders and nods like she’s preaching gospel. “And unfortunately, that includes your poor career decisions. If you choose to be a criminal, at least be a competent one.”So yeah — tonight is no different.I tiptoe down the stairs, socked feet silent on the wood, already mentally preparing my ‘caught you red-handed’ speech.The kitchen lights are on. The fridge door’s wide open.And someone’s standing there.I scowl. Rookie mistake, Luther. Mum would’ve had your head if the staff weren’t all gone for the holidays.When I walk into the kitchen, I find Luther sitting on the counter.He’s sketching something on his iPad with his Apple Pencil, completely in his own
EMILIAThey say ignorance is bliss.Whoever said that has never buried their brother.I stand in the rain, dressed in all black, clutching an umbrella like it can hold me together. But nothing can. Not today.My eyes blur as I stare at the headstone:Luther Christian Vanderbilt(1995–2018)Just seeing it makes it hard to breathe.In front of me, my mother — always perfect, always cold — is on the ground, sobbing like a child. Her elegant coat is soaked, her hands shaking as she reaches for the gravestone like she can pull him back.My father stands beside her, trying to hold the umbrella over them both, but he’s crying too hard to see straight.And then there’s my little sister, Diana, standing beside me, shaking with anger and grief. She looks so much like Luther when she smiles and like me when she cries.But she’s not smiling now.She’s sobbing — and every tear feels like a dagger.“Was it worth it?” she snaps. Her voice is loud enough for people to turn. She doesn’t care. “Tell me
LIAMEIGHT HOURS AGOI don’t think.I can’t.Because if I let myself process what I’m seeing — what he was trying to do to her — I’ll lose it completely.Stone has Emilia backed against the wall, and the look on her face? Pure fear. Her eyes are wide, glassy. She’s frozen, small, shaking.My heart nearly stops.Then something inside me snaps.I yank him off her, and without hesitating, I throw my fist at his jaw.CRACK.The sound is sickening, but satisfying.“Shit!” Stone stumbles, clutching his face. He looks at me like he’s just now realising he messed with the wrong person.But I’m not even close to done.All I can see is her — Emilia. Scared. Cornered. Pressed against that damn wall by someone who thought he had the right to touch her.My vision goes red.I grab him by the collar and slam him back against the wall.“Touch her again,” I growl, my voice low and shaking with rage, “and I swear to God, I’ll kill you.”Another punch. Harder this time.Stone drops to the floor, groanin
TESSAONE YEAR AGOI’m walking down the hallway, hunting for Mr. Harris — my boss who definitely gets a kick out of mispronouncing my last name.It’s Orlov.Not Ralov.Thanks for nothing, Dad. Pretty much the only thing he gave me was a last name people can’t say right.Just as I’m about to round the corner, someone yanks me into an open door.I nearly scream — until I see him.Those grey-blue eyes. That stupid heart-melting smile.“You really couldn’t wait ‘til I clocked out, huh?” I breathe out, pulse still racing.Lyle’s standing there, leaning in close. His strawberry blond hair is damp — probably sweat — and somehow, it makes him look even hotter. It should be illegal.My heart skips. Then trips. Then forgets how to beat entirely.“It takes everything in me not to lock you in my apartment and throw away the key,” he says, voice low and rough, “just so no one else can even look at you.”God. He really knows how to talk.I laugh, but there’s no real joy in it. I push at his chest,
TESSAGod help me.Of course it’s Aaron freaking Cobalt. Because why not?There he is — gliding across the ice like it’s an extension of his body, all smooth lines and effortless control. He isn’t just good. He was stupidly, unfairly, annoyingly good.Left winger for the NYC Titans, but honestly? If Liam is the heart of the team, Aaron is the sharp edge. Fast, unpredictable, and lethal when it counts. The kind of player that makes defence lines cry and sports commentators lose their minds.Everyone loves to compare them — Liam, the golden boy center, all power and precision. Aaron, the chaos wrapped in charm, turning plays into magic like it was no big deal. Together, they make the Titans impossible to beat. Separately? Still a damn nightmare.And of course, he’s the last person I want to see right now.I spin on my heel, making a beeline for the exit, but my stupid heels betray me. The sharp CLACK, CLACK echoes louder than his skates slicing the ice, and I hear him stop. I can practi