Chapter 3

MAYA’S POV

I barely slept for the rest of the night. Killian’s cruel words kept echoing in my head, tearing at my heart over and over again.

He really hated me that much. He was so ashamed of me that he couldn't even bear the thought of people knowing we lived under the same roof.

The next morning, I dragged myself to campus feeling like a complete zombie. My eyes were puffy, and my chest felt heavy with a numb, exhausting ache.

To make matters worse, I had a massive project due for my fashion design major. I was walking across the crowded university courtyard, struggling to carry a heavy load of fabric rolls, a thick sketchbook, and my heavy laptop bag.

My arms were shaking from the weight. I tried to adjust my grip, but my foot caught on an uneven piece of concrete. "Oh!" I gasped as my balance slipped.

My sketchbook flew out of my hands, hitting the ground, and several of my loose fashion sketches scattered across the pavement. The heavy fabric rolls tumbled after them.

I quickly dropped to my knees, my cheeks burning with embarrassment as several passing students looked at me and giggled. "Here, let me help you with that." A soft, pleasant voice spoke from above me.

Before I could look up, a guy bent down on the concrete right in front of me. He had neatly styled blond hair, clear blue eyes, and an athletic build.

He wore a clean, expensive casual jacket, and as he gathered my loose sketches, a warm, polite smile spread across his face. He handed me the papers, his fingers brushing mine gently. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, thank you so much," I stammered, taking the sketches back. "I'm just really clumsy today." He chuckled softly, picking up the heavy fabric rolls effortlessly.

As he looked down at one of my sketches, his eyes lit up with genuine interest. "Did you draw these? They are incredible. The detailing on the dress structure is really impressive."

I blinked, completely caught off guard. Nobody ever really noticed my work, let alone complimented it so sincerely. "Uh, yes. Thank you. I'm a fashion design student."

"I'm Carter," he said, extending a hand with that same easy, charming smile. "Carter Blackwood."

"Maya," I replied, shaking his hand. His grip was warm and steady. He seemed like a perfect gentleman, the exact opposite of the cold, arrogant monster I lived with.

Carter helped me stand up and insisted on carrying my heavy fabric rolls for me. "Well, Maya, it's a pleasure to meet you. Which building are you heading to? I can—"

"Well, look at this. Collecting trash from the floor, Blackwood?" The deep, dangerously rough voice cut through the air, low and quiet, but carrying enough venom to make the hairs on my arms stand up.

I turned my head and saw Killian walking toward us, flanked by his hockey teammates. He didn't make a loud scene in front of the surrounding students, keeping his posture relaxed, but his sharp gray eyes were fixed on Carter with an absolute, terrifying hatred.

Carter didn't flinch. He didn't look intimidated at all. Instead, he slowly squared his shoulders, his blue eyes hardening as a cold, mocking smile touched his lips.

He matched Killian's gaze dead-on, holding the fabric rolls securely. "At least I know how to treat a lady, Yates. Some of us don't need a hockey stick to get a woman's attention."

Killian’s eyes narrowed into slits, a dangerous tension rolling off his broad shoulders. He let out a low, sarcastic chuckle, completely ignoring Carter's dig as he finally turned his gaze to me.

His expression was completely emotionless, but his words cut like ice. "Watch who you flirt with, sweetheart," Killian said, his voice dripping with quiet irony. "Doing it out in the open like this just looks pathetic."

Before I could even process his words, Killian brushed right past us, his shoulder hitting Carter’s heavily as he walked away. Carter didn't back down.

Instead, he absorbed the hit, his jaw tight as he watched Killian and his teammates walk off.

My face burned with a mixture of anger and humiliation. Even though he didn't want people to know that we were related, was insulting me this way necessary? He just threw that slick, insulting accusation and kept moving.

Carter turned back to me, the hard edge vanishing from his face, replaced by genuine concern. "Are you okay, Maya? Do you know him?"

"He's... nobody," I whispered, shaking my head and swallowing the lump in my throat. I couldn't bear to let anyone know the truth. "Don't worry about him. Let's just go."

Later that afternoon, the humiliation was still burning a hole in my chest. I couldn't just let it go. As I walked down the quiet hallway of the sports complex on campus, I spotted him.

Killian was completely alone, leaning against a row of lockers, adjusting the gear bag slung over his massive shoulder.

Fury overrode my fear. Before he could notice me, I marched straight up to him and cornered him against the lockers, stepping right into his personal space.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I demanded, my voice shaking with raw anger. "Why the hell did you embarrass me like that out there?"

"Stay the hell away from Carter Blackwood, Maya," he hissed, his voice trembling with a dangerous edge. "I mean it. Don't look at him, don't talk to him, don't let him touch you."

"Why do you even care?" I shot back, my voice breaking as the pain from last night rushed back into my chest. "Last night you told me that this was a secret. You said you didn't want anyone to know we were related. You said we aren't family. So why are you acting like this now?"

Killian’s jaw clenched, his hands slamming against the wall on either side of my head, completely trapping me. For a split second, I thought I saw a flash of pure agony cross his handsome features, but it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by his usual cold mask.

"I don't care about you," he said, his deep voice dropping into a harsh, mocking whisper that cut me to the core. "But I care about my family's reputation. If you get involved with a guy like Blackwood, it brings a public scandal to my father's name. And that affects my hockey career. I'm just looking out for my father's reputation. Nothing more. After all, you are now my step sister."

Sister. The word felt like a slap in the face. "Is that all I am to you?" I whispered, my heart shattering into tiny pieces. "Just something to protect your reputation?"

Killian didn't answer. His gaze lowered to my lips for one torturous, burning second, his eyes darkening with an emotion that completely contradicted his cruel words.

Then, he straightened up, stepped back into the light, and walked away without looking back. As I watched his broad shoulders disappear around the corner, something shifted inside me.

The tears stopped, replaced by a cold, burning weight. After that explosive confrontation in the hallway, I made a firm decision. I was completely, utterly done.

Killian had shattered my feelings into too many pieces, and I couldn't keep letting him pull the strings of my heart. If he thought I was just an inconvenience and a plain, quiet girl who wasn't his type, then fine.

I would give him exactly what he wanted. I didn't want to love him anymore.