Chapter 5 – The Lion’s Den

The Kane mansion loomed like a fortress carved from old wealth and untouchable power. Ivory stone walls gleamed under gold lighting. Black-suited guards stood in pairs every few feet, forming a silent, intimidating corridor from the front gates to the double doors—each pair bowing their heads the moment the sleek black car approached.

Liara’s breath caught as Asher stepped out first. His presence, sharp in a tailored black tux, seemed to darken the air around him. The moment he straightened, every pair of eyes snapped to attention—not out of admiration, but reverence. Fear.

Then his hand reached out, silently commanding.

Liara took it, stepping into the night, the subtle click of her heels swallowed by the grand estate’s silence. She clutched her bejeweled clutch tighter as more guards moved to flank them, like wolves shielding their alpha.

“Don’t speak unless you have to,” Asher murmured, voice quiet but firm. “Don’t look away when they stare. And if anyone insults you—”

“I smile sweetly,” she murmured, forcing her voice steady, “and let you destroy them later.”

He glanced at her. A ghost of a smirk curled his lips. “Exactly.”Two guards opened the door. Asher stepped out first. The moment his polished shoes touched the marble drive, a wave of tension swept the staff nearby. Bodyguards straightened. The household butler rushed forward, bowing.

Liara followed, taking Asher’s hand as he offered it. He didn’t release her even as they walked through the towering double doors of the Kane mansion.

Inside, the world changed.

Chandeliers sparkled like constellations. Walls were lined with ancient paintings and hand-carved columns. Everything smelled of aged wine, power, and cold legacy.

They entered the formal dining hall—and the noise died.

The Kane family had arrived in full.

At the head of the impossibly long obsidian table sat Chairman Alaric Kane, Asher’s grandfather. His cane leaned beside him, though he didn’t need it. His eyes—steel-gray and cruel—locked on Asher first, then drifted toward Liara.

To the right sat Vivienne Kane, Asher’s mother. Regal. Cold. Her glass of red wine paused mid-air, eyes unreadable.

Beside her was Elias Kane, Asher’s father. Stiff. Stern. His mouth was set in disapproval before a word had been spoken.

Next came the uncles—Silas and Damien, draped in sharp suits, their smiles like knives. Their wives sat beside them, lips curved in polite contempt, diamonds gleaming at their throats.

And at the far end, near Asher’s designated seat, sat Celine—his cousin—clad in scarlet silk, smile slow and sweet and venomous.

Not a word.

“Late,” Chairman Kane said without inflection.

Asher didn’t blink. “We’re here.”

The old man’s eyes narrowed further. “That must be her.”

Liara stepped forward—heart hammering—and bowed her head with quiet grace. “Good evening. It’s an honor to meet you all.”

A pause.

Vivienne tilted her glass. “Well-mannered,” she said, voice like ice cracking on glass. “We simply didn’t expect you to marry. Especially so… quickly.”

“I don’t require expectations,” Asher said, his voice razor-sharp. “Only obedience.”

A long, brittle silence.

Then came Celine, her laugh airy and practiced. “She’s lovely, cousin. I didn’t think you’d go for something so… delicate.”

Liara didn’t flinch.

Asher did.

His stare pinned Celine in place like a dagger through silk. “Careful.”

Another silence fell—thicker than the last.

Liara could feel it in the way the staff moved, in how no one touched their wine until Asher did. In how one of the uncles lowered his gaze first, like prey submitting to the alpha.

He didn’t need to shout.

He didn’t need to prove himself.

He was the storm they all dressed for.

And then, like a soft breeze slipping through the eye of the hurricane, she arrived.

Celeste Kane.

Younger than Asher by a few years. Iconic on runways across Europe. Ethereal in a silver gown that flowed like moonlight.

She walked in late, kissed her grandfather’s cheek with effortless charm, and took one look at Liara.

Then smiled.

“Finally,” Celeste said, eyes bright. “Someone in this house who doesn’t reek of control issues.”

A ripple of tension passed through the room.

Vivienne shot her daughter a warning look. Elias muttered something beneath his breath. But Celeste only propped her chin on her hand and studied Liara with interest.

“I’m Celeste,” she said. “And you’re even prettier than the tabloids made you out to be.”

Liara blinked, caught off guard. “I—thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Celeste said, graceful and unapologetic. “If you ever need an ally in this circus, I’m usually the only one not vying for control.”

Asher’s hand subtly brushed Liara’s lower back. Protective. Possessive.

Celeste noticed.

And smirked knowingly.

Dinner began—but the atmosphere never softened. Every smile was a veiled threat. Every toast a test. And yet, beside Asher, Liara sat poised—polished—and quietly untouchable.

Because with every dismissive glance, every underhanded comment, the man beside her never once faltered.

He didn’t shield her.

He made the room fear her.

And that was how you survived the Kane family.