The dining hall emptied slowly.Chairs scraped back in deliberate silence. One by one, the Kane relatives vanished like smoke — no hugs, no warmth, only the weight of expectations left behind. Celeste offered a lingering glance and a knowing smile as she passed Liara, but said nothing.Liara sat motionless beside Asher, her hand resting near his on the glass table, not touching.He hadn’t moved since Vivienne left.The name still hovered in the room like perfume: Lilith Hawthorne.“Asher…” she said softly.His jaw ticked, but he didn’t look at her. “We shouldn’t have stayed.”“You didn’t even argue,” she replied. “Which means part of you knows we needed to.”Finally, his eyes flicked toward hers. Stormy. Guarded.“She’s not a threat,” he said. “Just a ghost.”Liara stood slowly, her dress whispering against the floor. “Ghosts only haunt what hasn’t been buried properly.”Asher said nothing.They walked back through the long corridors of the Kane estate, neither reaching for the other,
The dining hall of the Kane estate was vast and dimly lit, all shadows and chandeliers.Liara sat beside Asher at one end of the long, cold-glass table, under a vaulted ceiling that made even silence echo. Around them, the rest of the Kane family filled the room — a sea of poised faces and calculating eyes. Uncles. Aunts. Cousins. Every one of them dressed like a threat, speaking like they were casting veiled spells.It wasn’t warm. It wasn’t welcoming.But it was powerful.The clink of silverware was rhythmic, disciplined — not a single scrape or clang out of place. Conversations were quiet, clipped, and deliberate. No one asked about feelings. Only alliances, shares, market shifts.Liara sat straight, trying not to fidget, every move calculated. She knew eyes were on her — assessing her, weighing her worth.Celeste lounged further down the table, a quiet grin curving her lips as she watched Liara like a cat at play.Vivienne, ever the queen of the room, lifted her glass slowly. “To
The glass door clicked softly behind her.Liara stepped out of the solarium, the scent of lavender and old roses still clinging to her skin. Her hands were warmer now—not from the sun, but from the words that had passed between her and Vivienne Kane.“You can call me Mom.”She hadn’t expected that to undo her. Not like this. A single sentence, gentle and unassuming, had left something trembling deep inside her. Something old. Something abandoned.She pressed her palm to her chest as she walked slowly back through the halls of the estate. The servants were quiet. The chandeliers gleamed overhead. But none of it settled her.Asher hadn’t returned.Her steps moved on instinct, climbing the stairs to the private floor where his penthouse suite was tucked away, silent and apart from the rest of the estate. She hesitated outside the door.No guards.No servants.Just the soft hum of the air conditioning and the scent of rain from the garden below.She opened the door quietly.The lights wer
Liara hadn’t expected the halls of the Kane estate to feel this… still.The sun had barely risen. Pale light spilled through the tall windows, washing the dark marble floors in silver. Celeste had disappeared after breakfast, leaving only the faint scent of her jasmine perfume in the air. Asher had stepped out with a clenched jaw and silent rage coiled beneath his suit, offering no explanation, just a muttered, “I need a moment.”And now, Liara found herself wandering the quiet corridors alone, the silence stretching longer than she liked.She decided to step outside.The gardens were still wet with dew. Cool, fresh, and almost otherworldly, like something out of a forgotten fairytale. She walked slowly, barefoot on the grass, letting the morning hush settle over her nerves. It grounded her in a way the estate never could.Something that settled behind her ribs when Asher walked out that door.Maybe it was foolish to care that much. Maybe it was dangerous.But it was already done.She
But Liara was still seated at the table, her fingertips lightly tracing the edge of the gold-rimmed plate as if it could anchor her in this new, uncertain calm.Celeste had gone off somewhere—probably to torment a butler or dig into the mysterious “south wing” rule. But Liara stayed. Not because she had to.Because, for once, she didn’t want to move.She didn’t want to break the spell.The silence was softer here. Not the silence of fear or power, but of quiet walls and lingering laughter. It was almost cruel—how something so simple as breakfast could feel like the rarest thing she’d ever had.Footsteps again. Slower this time. More deliberate.She didn’t need to turn to know it was him.“I thought you left,” she said softly.Asher’s voice was calm. “I did.”A pause. Then he added, “I came back.”Liara finally looked at him. He wasn’t dressed like earlier. The black jacket was gone. His sleeves were rolled up, and there was a faint smear of something—dust? grease?—on his forearm.Like
The smell of warm bread and softly brewed tea reached Liara before she stepped into the sunlit room. She paused at the threshold. Three plates. Three chairs. And Celeste—already lounging barefoot on a cushioned bench, one leg tucked under the other, a strawberry between her fingers and a smirk on her lips. “Well, finally,” Celeste said. “I was starting to think you Kane boys don’t let your women eat.” Liara blinked. “You made this?” “I organized it.” She waved lazily. “I don’t do the slicing and frying—I delegate. That’s what power is for, darling.” Liara gave a small laugh. It slipped out before she could stop it. Celeste beamed, like she’d scored a point. “Come,” Celeste said, patting the empty chair beside her. “Before he gets here and ruins the mood.” Liara sat, still tense, but not as stiff as she would’ve been days ago. The plates were beautiful—soft gold rims, the food arranged like a painting. Fruit cut into perfect angles. Eggs warm and fluffy. Toast stacked