Chapter 11

LAUREN/ZARA

I stood outside the study, spine straight, hands clasped behind me, the picture of composure. The kind of posture that said I belong here. I'm untouchable. I'm stone.

But the truth was louder in my chest than the voices murmuring beyond the door.

Inside, they were talking about Liam's marriage. His father. Beatrice. Beatrice's father.

And me?

I was the shadow keeping guard.

My eyes fixed on the polished wood of the door, but my mind was anywhere but here. Every muffled laugh, every raised tone, every pause in conversation slid under my skin like glass.

Beatrice.

Her voice cut through even the thick wood, bright and grating, too familiar. It had been years since high school, since the whispered torment, the cruel jokes that left bruises invisible but permanent. And now she was here, in this house, talking about a future tied to Liam ,as if the past had been nothing more than childish games.

I curled my fingers into my palms, nails pressing crescents into skin, grounding myself.

I shouldn't care. Not anymore.

Not after everything.

But I did. God help me, I did.

And the worst part? Standing here, I could feel Liam's presence through the door. I didn't need to hear his words to know he hated this as much as I did. The tension had been there in his eyes this morning, in the roughness of his voice when he'd asked me if I was okay.

I wasn't.

But I couldn't let him see that.

So I stayed still. A soldier. A mask without the cloth.

And all the while, the voices went on , tying his fate to hers, talking about alliances and power, as if none of them had ever watched a girl bleed from the cruelty of their "jokes."

As if that girl hadn't been me.

The muffled voices blurred together at first ,polite, measured, the cadence of men making deals. I'd learned to tune that kind of talk out years ago.

But then Liam's voice cut through, louder, rougher.

"I can't marry her."

My breath snagged. The words carried, clear enough to strip the air around me of oxygen.

There was a pause inside, long enough for me to hear the rustle of someone shifting in their chair. Then his father's voice, low and sharp, the way only a man used to being obeyed could sound.

"You'll forget the past, Liam. Those were childish dramas. Nothing more."

My jaw tightened, every muscle in me going rigid.

Childish dramas. That's what he called it?

A scrape of chair legs, and then Liam again ,louder this time, furious, the edge in his tone vibrating through the door.

"A drama that cost someone her life!"

The silence that followed was so heavy it pressed against my chest. I forced my breathing steady, but my heart… my heart was pounding so hard I thought they might hear it inside.

I didn't need to hear the rest. I didn't want to. Because in that single exchange, the past was no longer a ghost haunting me alone. It was alive in there, tearing at him too.

I closed my eyes for a moment, willing myself to stay rooted.

I was supposed to be a shadow. Detached. Untouchable.

But in that instant, standing guard outside a room full of powerful people, I had never felt more exposed.

My lungs burned. I couldn't stand there a second longer with their words clawing at me.

I stepped back from the study door, boots soundless against the marble, and slipped down the hallway. Just far enough that I could lean against the cool stone of the wall, out of sight.

My hands trembled before I could stop them. I curled them into fists, pressing my knuckles to my temples. Childish drama. Cost someone her life.

God. Hearing Liam say it,he remembered. He hadn't buried it as neatly as he pretended. That should've steadied me, but instead it ripped me raw.

I drew in a slow breath, then another. Counted them until the shaking dulled. Until the soldier in me shoved everything else back down, packed the girl I once was into a locked box and sealed it tight.

By the time I returned to my post outside the study, my spine was straight, my face blank. No trace of the girl who'd unraveled against the wall a few minutes earlier.

Minutes later, the door opened.

Liam's father stepped out first, jaw set like stone. Beatrice and her father followed, the difference between them and Liam as sharp as sunlight against shadow.

Beatrice was beaming. Radiant in that hollow, practiced way I remembered all too well. She turned to Liam, her voice honey-sweet.

"I'll come back tomorrow morning. We can go shopping, pick out something fitting for us."

Her smile lingered on him, triumphant, oblivious to the storm in his eyes.

And me?

I stood still, hands clasped behind my back, the mask back in place.

But inside, every word, every smile, every memory felt like glass cutting deeper into skin that never really healed.

Her voice was still in the air, sweet and smug, when Liam's gaze slid past her.

Past his father. Past Beatrice's father.

To me.

For a heartbeat, the room might as well have emptied. Because when his eyes met mine, the mask I wore felt paper-thin.

There it was again,that searching. That ache. That question he hadn't dared to say aloud. Who are you really?

My chest tightened, but I held his stare. I couldn't give him an answer, couldn't give him anything at all. And yet the silence between us hummed with everything neither of us could bury.

Then he tore his eyes away. Without a word, he brushed past his father, past Beatrice's glow, and strode toward the doors. His movements were clipped, sharp, the kind of steps that weren't meant to be stopped.

I didn't even think.

The moment he crossed the threshold, I moved, my boots quick against the floor.

Following him.

Not because it was my duty. Not because anyone ordered me to.

But because I couldn't let him walk out of this house, carrying that storm in his chest, without me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

LIAM 

I didn't stop walking until the morning air hit me.

Cold, sharp, cleaner than the suffocating walls inside. I pulled the car door open and slid into the driver's seat, gripping the wheel though I had no intention of starting it. My chest still burned with the words I hadn't been able to swallow in front of my father.

The passenger door opened a moment later. She slid in,silent, steady, her braid brushing her shoulder as she settled into the seat beside me. Lauren. Always there. Always shadowing me.

I didn't look at her. Not at first. Just stared straight ahead, jaw tight, hands white-knuckled against the leather.

"Get down." My voice came out low, sharper than I meant it to.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her hesitate.

"Liam….."

"Now," I snapped, the word slicing out of me before I could stop it.

Her head turned, eyes narrowing just slightly, a flicker of something behind them—offense, defiance, maybe even hurt. 

"There's no threat here."My voice was low this time. 

"There's always a threat." Her voice carried that professional tone. 

My hand slammed against the wheel, the sound jarring in the confined space. I finally turned to her, the storm I'd been holding back spilling out.

 "Do you think I don't notice? Do you think I can't tell you're watching me like I'm seconds away from shattering?"

Her face didn't move. Not a twitch. But I felt the distance in her silence, the steel in it.

She unbuckled, movements slow, deliberate. "Then maybe you should be left alone to shatter."

And before I could say another word, she opened the door and stepped out, boots crunching against the gravel as she walked away into the dark.

I sat there, chest heaving, watching her silhouette disappear.

And for the second time in a single night, I hated myself for pushing her away.

I sat there, staring at the empty space where she'd just been. The gravel still echoed in my head like footsteps trailing away, farther and farther, until silence swallowed it.

My hand loosened on the wheel, falling to my lap. Regret seeped in, slow and heavy, like water soaking through cracks I'd tried too hard to seal. Why did I always drive her off? Why did it feel like every time she was near, I burned everything between us to ash?

I leaned back against the seat, dragging a hand over my face. If I closed my eyes, I could still see her, the look in her eyes before she walked away.

The passenger door clicked open. My heart kicked hard against my ribs. For a split second, I thought it was her,that she'd come back, that maybe I hadn't ruined it all.

But when I turned, it wasn't Lauren.

It was Beatrice.

She slid into the seat, perfume sharp and sweet in the confined space, her smile faint but smug. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?" she teased, smoothing her dress as if she belonged here.

I didn't answer. Couldn't.

Because all I could think about was how badly I wished it had been Lauren sitting there instead.

Beatrice crossed her legs, tilting her head at me. "You don't have to sulk, you know. Tomorrow, when we go shopping, you'll feel better. It'll be fun….just like old times."

Her voice was syrupy, grating against the storm inside me. I clenched my jaw, staring straight ahead, fingers tightening on the steering wheel until my knuckles burned white.

"Don't," I bit out.

She blinked. "Don't what?"

"Don't sit there and act like everything is fine. Like nothing ever happened." My chest tightened, the words ripping out of me harsher than I intended. "I hate you, Beatrice. For what you did. For what you started. For what you made Zara live through."

Her face froze, the smile sliding off. "You don't mean that."

"I do." I turned finally, locking eyes with her. Fury, guilt, and something darker burned in my voice. "Every time I look at you, I remember how she cried. How she broke. How she….." My throat caught, but I pushed through. "You destroyed her, Beatrice. And I'll never forgive you for it."

Her nostrils flared, her polished calm cracking. "Don't you dare put this all on me, Liam," she snapped, her voice sharp as glass. "Don't act like you were some innocent bystander. You were in on it. You dated her, you smiled in her face, you made her trust you….and then you broke her heart for fun. That wasn't just my idea. That was yours too."

The air between us thickened, poisonous, her words sinking in like venom.

I flinched, but my glare only deepened. "I was a stupid kid, blinded, manipulated. But you…." I spat, "you enjoyed it. You wanted her crushed. You wanted her gone."

Beatrice leaned closer, her voice low and vicious. "And you helped me do it."

My chest heaved, every word of hers like fire under my skin. "You helped me do it."

That was the snap. The final straw.

Before I knew what I was doing, my hand shot out and slammed against the steering wheel so hard the horn blared, echoing through the driveway. Beatrice jolted, her smug mask faltering.

"Shut up!" I roared, the sound raw, ripped from my throat. "Don't you dare stand there and throw that back at me like it's some twisted joke! Don't you dare reduce her life, her pain,to one of your games!"

Beatrice's eyes widened, but I didn't stop. My hands were shaking as I grabbed the door handle, slammed it open, and rounded the car in a blur of rage. She scrambled back in her seat, her voice trembling now.

"L-Liam...."

I wrenched the passenger door open, my glare burning into her. "Get. Out."

"What….?"

"Out!" I bellowed, every nerve alight with fury. "I don't want you near me. I don't want your voice in my ears. I don't want your face in front of me. You disgust me, Beatrice. Do you understand that? You make me sick."

Her lips parted, but no words came. For the first time in years, the queen bee looked small,shaken.

When she didn't move fast enough, I grabbed her wrist, yanking her out of the car and shoving her onto her feet. She stumbled, catching herself, her perfect hair falling into her face.

"Don't you ever.ever,say her name to me again," I hissed, my voice dropping into something darker, colder. "Because if you do, Beatrice, I swear to God, I won't hold back next time."

She froze, pale, staring at me like she didn't recognize the boy she used to control.

I slammed the door shut, locking it, my breath ragged. My pulse thundered, rage and grief and guilt tangled so tightly I couldn't tell one from the other.

But one thing was clear,whatever leash Beatrice thought she still had on me, it had just snapped.

"Liam!"

The sharp bark of my father's voice cut through the air. I turned, chest still heaving, and there they were,my father and Beatrice's father, standing on the steps of the estate, having clearly seen everything.

My stomach twisted, but the fury in me didn't fade,it roared hotter.

Beatrice's dad descended the steps, face red with outrage. "How dare you lay a hand on my daughter!" he thundered. "Do you realize who you're speaking to? Do you realize what this alliance means for your family?"

I laughed,a bitter, hollow sound. "Alliance?" I spat, taking a step toward him. "You mean a noose. You want to chain me to her and pretend it's for the greater good. You think I'll bow down and smile after everything she's done?"

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Watch your tongue, boy. One more outburst like this, and I'll call the marriage off myself."

"Good!" The word ripped out of me before I could stop it. "Do it! Call it off! Because I would rather rot alone than ever tie myself to her. Do you understand me?" I jabbed a finger in Beatrice's direction, her face pale, trembling. "She destroyed someone's life. She destroyed Zara's life. And now you all stand here acting like she's some prize I should be grateful for?!"

"Liam!" my father barked, but I didn't stop.

"You want to threaten me? Go ahead!" I snapped, eyes blazing as I turned on Beatrice's father. "But don't stand there and act like your daughter is blameless. Don't you dare lecture me on respect when she's never earned a shred of it!"

Beatrice's father's face contorted with rage. "You insolent little....."

"Enough!" my father's voice cut sharp and loud, but I barely heard him over the blood pounding in my ears.

Because for the first time in my life, I didn't care. I didn't care about alliances, reputations, or family legacies. All I could see was Zara's face, the girl whose life had been ruined while these people played puppet master.

And I wasn't going to stay silent anymore.