Alle Kapitel von He had always been mine : Kapitel 11 – Kapitel 20

KILLIAN POV I walked out of the main gallery like the floor itself was something I needed to get off as fast as possible.My shoulder brushed someone hard enough that they stumbled slightly.“Sorry,” I muttered, the word automatic even though my voice came out rough. I didn’t stop long enough to see their face. I just kept moving. The stiff jacket they had forced me into suddenly felt like it was choking me at the collar. The lights were too bright. The polite applause still echoing behind me felt like mockery. One hundred million dollars. The number kept repeating in my head like a bad joke that refused to end.Brandon Hale had bought my painting for one hundred million dollars.And then he had stood there in front of everyone and asked me to dinner like it was the most natural follow-up in the world.I could still feel the exact second the invitation left his mouth. The way my supervisor’s hand had tightened on my elbow. The way every possible refusal had died in my throat because

BRANDON POV I dropped Claire off just after eleven.Her building was quiet and well-kept, the kind of place that looked expensive without trying too hard. She turned to me in the passenger seat with that same confident little smile she had worn most of the evening.“I had a good time,” she said. “Even if the night ended up being more dramatic than either of us expected.”“I’m glad,” I answered.She waited a second longer, like she was giving me room to say more. When I didn’t, she simply nodded, unclipped her seatbelt, and opened the door.“Goodnight, Brandon.”“Goodnight.”I watched until she disappeared inside the lobby, then pulled away from the curb. The city moved past the windows in streaks of light and shadow. My hands stayed steady on the wheel, but my mind was still back in the gallery—Killian’s stiff shoulders under the lights, the way his face had stayed blank while his thumbnail dug into his own palm, the cold flatness in his voice when he thanked me for the painting.*Th

BRANDON POVThe private line rang just as I was finishing the note in the margin of the European report.I knew who it was before I looked. Only two people in the building used that line, and my mother never called during market hours unless something was wrong. I let it ring a second time, pen still resting against the paper, before I reached over and answered.“Father.”“Brandon.” His voice came through the same as it always had low, even, and already certain of the outcome of whatever conversation he was about to start. “Are you alone?”“Yes.”“Good. I’ve reviewed the adjusted proposal for the European expansion. The tighter margins are acceptable. The phased entry is more cautious than I would have designed, but the risk profile is cleaner. Legal signed off this morning. Finance has no further objections. You have my support to move forward.”“Understood.”There was a short pause. I heard the faint shift of leather on his end, the quiet sound of him settling deeper into the chair

BRANDON POVI arrived twenty minutes early and took the corner table that gave me a clear view of the entrance.The restaurant was quiet in the way only expensive places managed—soft light, dark wood, conversations kept low enough that nothing carried. I ordered water and left it untouched. My phone stayed face-down on the table. Every time the door opened my attention sharpened, then settled again when it wasn’t him.When Killian finally walked in, the shift in my chest was immediate and deep.He looked like he had already lost an argument with himself before stepping through the door. Dark jacket that didn’t sit quite right on his shoulders. Damp hair. Jaw locked so tight the muscle kept jumping. He spoke to the hostess without smiling, then followed her across the room with the expression of a man walking toward something he had already decided to hate.He stopped at the edge of the table and didn’t sit until I nodded at the chair opposite me.“Sit.”He sat. Not close. He kept his

KILLIAN POV I took the long way home on purpose.The city felt too loud and too quiet at the same time. Every streetlight I passed under still carried the echo of Brandon’s voice talking about my hair like those afternoons in his bathroom still belonged to him. The scissors. The towel around my shoulders. The careful way he used to tip my head forward under the water. I hated that he had dragged any of it back into the open. I hated that for even one second the memories had felt familiar instead of dangerous.By the time I reached our building the hate had settled into something harder and cleaner than it had been in years.I climbed the stairs instead of taking the elevator so I would have more time to lock everything down behind my face. When I opened the apartment door the lamp in the living room was on, but the rest of the place was quiet. Maya was on the couch with her legs tucked under her, a book open in her lap. She looked up and smiled the second she saw me.“Hey. You’re bac