Chapter 2

MAYA’S POV

The next few days passed like a blur.

I went to my classes, came back to the massive Yates Estate, and tried my best to blend into the background. It was impossible to feel at home when every corner of the mansion screamed wealth, and it was even more impossible because of Killian.

How was I supposed to do this? How was I supposed to look at the boy I had worshipped from afar for seven years and pretend he was my stepbrother? My heart didn't care about legal documents or marriage certificates.

Every time I saw him walk down the hallway, the desperate, aching love I had carried for him since I was a girl flared up, hot and terrifying, only to be crushed by reality.

Whenever we were in the same room, the air became heavy and suffocating. He still didn't say a word to me. He treated me like a complete stranger, a ghost haunting his father’s house.

On our third night there, we were all sitting at the long mahogany dining table for dinner. The silence between Killian and me was deafening, but our parents didn't seem to notice.

They were completely wrapped up in each other, acting like a pair of young, starry-eyed newlyweds.

William cleared his throat, smiling warmly at my mother before looking over at us. "So, kids, your mother and I have some news. We are leaving for our honeymoon tomorrow morning. We'll be flying out to Paris for two weeks."

I forced a polite smile, though my stomach instantly twisted into a tight knot. "That’s wonderful, Mom. You deserve it."

"Thank you, sweetheart," my mother beamed, reaching over to pat my hand. "You and Killian will be perfectly fine here. The staff will take care of the cooking and cleaning."

I looked across the table. Killian didn't even look up from his plate. He just kept cutting his steak, his expression entirely blank, as if the news didn't affect him at all.

But my heart was pounding against my ribs, a terrifying mixture of anticipation and dread blooming in my chest. The only problem was the fact that I would be left completely alone in this massive house with him.

My secret crush was a dangerous thing when given room to breathe. And things got much worse the very next day. As soon as our parents packed their bags and drove off to the airport, the house changed.

The illusion of a happy family vanished. Killian didn't waste any time. That exact same evening, he brought home a gorgeous, blonde university cheerleader.

I was in the kitchen when they walked through the front doors. Killian had his arm slung carelessly around her waist, and she was giggling at something he whispered.

He didn't even glance my way as they headed straight up the grand staircase. What made everything a living nightmare was the layout of the house. Our bedrooms were right next to each other.

That night, Killian made out with her, and I was forced to listen to every single second of it. Because the walls were thin, the girl's loud, breathless moans echoed straight into my room.

I pulled my pillow over my ears, pressing down as hard as I could, but it didn't block out the sound. My heart broke into a million pieces with every groan, every laugh. It was a brutal, agonizing torture.

The boy I had saved all my innocent, girlish dreams for was giving everything I wanted to a complete stranger, just feet away from where I lay shivering in the dark. And she wasn't the last one.

Over the next few days, it became a cruel, devastating routine. Night after night, he brought a different girl home.

During the day at school, Killian was the cold, untouchable hockey captain. He passed me in the hallways like I was invisible, surrounded by his teammates and adoring fans. But at night, he became a monster that tortured my sanity.

I hated myself for it, but I found myself standing by my bedroom window every evening, peering through the curtains just to see what type of girls he brought home.

They were all the same, tall, confident, stunning puck bunnies with perfect bodies. Every single day, a fresh wave of deep, hollow insecurity washed over me as I compared myself to them.

I was small, quiet, and plain. I was nothing like the women he wanted. I was just the girl forced into his house, completely unwanted and unnoticed.

On this particular night, the heartbreak reached its peak.

I woke up in the middle of the night, my chest aching and my breathing shallow. Killian was fucking another girl. The noises were louder than usual tonight.

The girl was moaning aggressively, and I could hear the heavy wooden bed frame hitting the shared wall over and over again. It felt like the sound was echoing inside my own skull, a physical manifestation of my unrequited love shattering into dust.

Unable to take the pain and the noise for another second, I threw off my blankets and slipped out of my room. My throat felt completely parched, dry from the anxiety tight in my chest. I needed to get away from the sound of his pleasure. I needed water.

I padded quietly down the dark, carpeted stairs and made my way into the kitchen. The mansion was completely silent except for the faint, distant noises from upstairs.

I poured myself a glass of cold water and drank it down, trying to wash away the lump of misery in my throat. A few minutes later, the moans finally stopped. The sudden silence in the house was heavy.

Then, the faint sound of a bedroom door opening echoed from the upper floor. I stood frozen in the kitchen, listening. Soft, breathless giggling traveled down the hallway, followed by the girl's voice. "Call me some other time, Killian. That was amazing."

Her high heels clicked against the hardwood floor as she walked out of the house, the heavy front door clicking shut behind her. I let out a shaky breath, thinking I was finally safe.

I turned around to place my empty glass on the counter, but my heart instantly stopped. Killian walked right into the kitchen.

He was completely shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of loose gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips. My breath hitched in my throat. His body was perfect, powerfully built, with broad shoulders and a carved six-pack that moved as he breathed.

The black crow tattoo across his chest looked dark and menacing under the dim kitchen lights.

He didn't even acknowledge me at first.

He brushed past me, his warm skin brushing dangerously close to my arm, and opened the large stainless-steel fridge. He grabbed a bottle of water and took a long, slow drink, his throat moving as he swallowed.

I wanted to yell at him. I wanted to confront him about the shameless noise, about how his parade of women was tearing me apart inside.

But as I stared at his bare chest and those perfect abs, the words completely died in my throat. I loved him so much it made me weak. I couldn't breathe, let alone speak.

I was so deeply lost in my own pining thoughts that I visibly jumped when his sharp gray eyes suddenly snapped to mine. "Like what you see?" Killian asked. His voice was deep, rough from sex, and laced with a cold, mocking amusement.

My cheeks instantly burned with bright red heat. I clamped my jaw shut, trying to swallow down my embarrassment and the tears prickling my eyes, before stammering out the first words I could find.

"You... you are completely shameless! Do you have to be so loud? People are trying to sleep.”

Killian didn't look angry. Instead, his expression darkened, turning incredibly cold.

He closed the fridge door with a soft thud and moved toward me. He didn't stop until he was standing directly in front of me, his massive height completely towering over my small frame.

I had to tilt my head back just to look at him, my heart hammering in a chaotic mix of fear and desperate adoration. He leaned down slightly, his dangerous, intoxicating scent of mint and expensive cologne wrapping around me.

"Let's get one thing straight, Maya," he whispered, his voice dropping into a harsh, threatening tone. "This fucked-up marriage between our parents? It stays behind these walls. It must remain a secret."

I blinked, the harshness of his words striking my already bruised heart like a physical blow. "What?"

"You heard me," Killian sneered, his gray eyes piercing right through me. "I don't want a single person at school or anywhere else to know that I am related to the likes of you. We are not family."

The words tore through my chest like a jagged blade, completely destroying any lingering, foolish childhood fantasies I had left. The likes of you. We are not family.

To him, I was just a lower-class girl who had invaded his perfect, wealthy world. An embarrassment.

The pain was so sharp that tears immediately stung the backs of my eyes, but I forced myself to swallow them down. I refused to let him see how easily he could break me.

"No one should know that we are step-siblings. Got it?" he demanded coldly. I couldn't even speak. My chest was entirely too tight, full of a devastating, suffocating grief. I just gave a small, miserable nod.

Satisfied with my silence, Killian stepped back. He didn't offer a word of apology, and he didn't care that he had just shattered whatever tiny piece of hope I had left.

He simply turned around and walked out of the kitchen, leaving me alone in the dark, bleeding out from a heartbreak he didn't even know he caused.