Masuk"That's not his shirt."Allie says it without thinking — the words just come out, automatic, the way you correct a small wrong when your brain is running on tired and you've lost the energy to calculate every sentence before it leaves your mouth.Liam goes very still."You still remember what he wears," he says. Flat. Not a question."I said the shirt isn't his. Nick doesn't wear blue dress shirts—""So you've inventoried his wardrobe.""Liam."He turns away, jaw tight, and she watches him discard the shirt back on the chair with the disgust of a man who has decided this particular piece of clothing is personally offensive to him. Which, given everything, it probably is.She grabs clothes from her closet — the same impulse she's had since she was seventeen, when this room was a refuge and the first rule was always when overwhelmed, shower — and heads for the bathroom.Sh
"If you don't believe me," Liam says, "ask him."The sentence lands like something dropped from a building.Allie looks at his face — really looks — searching for the tell that this is overprotection, irrational jealousy, a man spiraling past the evidence. But Liam Hart doesn't spiral. He doesn't say things he doesn't mean. He doesn't build accusations out of nothing.His face is completely, devastatingly serious.She thinks about Adam in the hospital — head lowered, flushed, saying the porridge was good like it cost him his whole composure. The camera sessions, how his eyes kept finding her when he wasn't monitoring them. The balcony Liam won't explain but clearly cannot unsee.He likes you. The way a man likes a woman."That's—" she starts.A knock at the door.Both of them go still.It gets louder.Liam releases a breath through his nose, crosses the room, turns the han
She waits.Liam said I have something to tell you and then he went completely silent — standing in the middle of her childhood bedroom with his hands at his sides and something building in the space between them that she can feel pressing against her skin like weather."What?" she finally says. "What did you want to tell me?"He exhales. Looks at her. His jaw is tight in the way it gets when he's about to say something that costs him."Can you stop fighting me on this?" he says. "Just — stop."She blinks. "Are you serious? I'm fighting you? You accused me without evidence. You drove away. Twice. You said the family's reputation was at stake—""Adam likes you."The sentence drops into the room like something thrown from a great height.She stares at him."I said—""I heard you." Her voice comes out flat. She heard him and her brain is refusing to process i
Vivian watches Liam's expression shift and her whole body floods with the specific, electric satisfaction of a woman who has just found the exact nerve she was looking for.She presses harder."It's actually quite sad, when you think about it." She leans in, voice dropping to something intimate and rueful, like she's sharing something she'd rather not. "Allie and Nick were practically inseparable growing up. He used to come over all the time — stayed over sometimes, even. We all just assumed they'd get married eventually. It seemed so inevitable." She pauses, perfectly timed. "I think that's why she still held onto the photo. Some things you can't let go of, even when you should."Liam's jaw does something she can't fully read.Good enough.Vivian is so focused on his face that she doesn't notice Allie until she's already there — fruit plate in hand, setting it on the coffee table with the quiet efficiency of someone who has de
Vivian is practically vibrating with suppressed fury.She sets the dish beside Allie's plate with enough controlled force to rattle the table setting, smiles her most devastating smile, and retreats to her seat. But her jaw is locked. Her fingers, wrapped around her chopsticks, have gone white at the knuckles. Her eyes keep cutting to Liam — to the easy, unhurried way he's already resumed conversation with David, as if the last thirty seconds didn't happen, as if Vivian isn't sitting three feet away fantasizing about setting something on fire.Allie eats the prawn.It's perfect. Of course it is.She does not look at Liam again.Dinner ends. David and Liam migrate to the living room, the conversation shifting to equity markets and something about a waterfront development, the language of men who have made money and are making more. Lisa disappears into the kitchen with the practiced efficiency of someone who has realized this evening we
Lisa Ruyan did not expect to be cut down by a girl who usually takes whatever's handed to her.She blinks. Recalibrates. The professional smile returns like a reflex. "What's gotten into you, sweetheart? Of course Liam is family. I only meant—""Then let's eat," Allie says, and sits down.Not at the seat beside Liam. At the far end of the table, the one nearest the kitchen, the one that says I am here because I have to be and not a single inch closer than necessary.She doesn't look at him.She can feel him looking at her, that specific, quiet focus she's learned to identify the way you learn to identify weather before it breaks — but she keeps her eyes on her plate and reaches for the rice and tells herself that the warmth climbing up the back of her neck is nothing. Temperature. The kitchen. Not him.Vivian drops into the seat to Liam's left with the deliberate certainty of a person who has already decided it'
Allie Brooks stirred awake to the sound of Liam Hart’s deep voice. He had just stepped out of the bathroom, freshly showered, and was buttoning up his crisp shirt. His hair glistened with droplets of water, and he exuded a calm confidence that made Allie’s stomach churn with mixed emotions.With a
Liam Hart had just left the room, his calm yet piercing presence lingering like an invisible storm.The moment the door closed behind him, Allie Brooks was swarmed by curious voices.“Allie, how do you know Liam Hart? He seemed so… gentle with you.”“The way he tied your shoelaces—oh my God—it was
The hotel’s bathroom was pristine, with a luxurious rainfall shower. Allie fiddled with the knobs, adjusting the water temperature to just the right warmth.She turned to Liam, who was leaning against the doorframe, watching her with a lazy intensity. "The water’s ready. Go in."He didn’t move. Ins
Julian Ford leaned back casually, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. "Well, Scarlett, I guess you’re not the only diva around here," he said, his voice dripping with amusement as he directed his words toward Vivian Brooks, her cheeks now flushed red with anger.Vivian’s finger shot up, trembli







