Chapter 2

When Liam was airlifted onto the Hayes family estate by helicopter, she felt like she'd accidentally logged into a pay-to-win whale's private server.

The estate stretched across a thousand acres. A gleaming castle stood at its center. Even the stone lions flanking the entrance were studded with diamonds.

"Young master, welcome home." The butler bowed at a perfect ninety-degree angle, precise as a programmed AI.

Mr. and Mrs. Hayes had been waiting for some time. Mrs. Hayes pulled Liam into a fierce embrace, sobbing hard enough to shake her whole body. "My baby! Mom finally found you!"

Liam went completely rigid. Ma'am, squeeze any tighter and I'm going to pass out.

Mr. Hayes' eyes were faintly red. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're home now. That Blair from Kingsley University — I've already had people take care of it. Anyone who messes with the Hayes family is signing their own death warrant."

Pure, unfiltered money talking.

Liam was just about to say something when a faint sound drifted down from the spiral staircase on the second floor — the soft roll of wheelchair wheels.

"Dad, Mom, he just got back. Don't scare him."

Liam looked up.

The man was strikingly handsome. He wore a pure black silk shirt, his face paper-pale, with a deep red flush at the corners of his eyes that made him look beautifully, dangerously sick. He sat in his wheelchair, looking down at her with an expression that hovered somewhere between a smile and something else entirely.

The Hayes family's adopted son — Dorian Hayes.

"Liam, welcome home." Dorian steered his wheelchair toward her and extended a hand — pale, long-fingered, graceful.

Dorian narrowed her eyes. His gaze was like a snake's — sharp, probing, not even bothering to hide it.

She reached out and took his hand. His skin was ice-cold.

"Hi," she said. Short and simple.

Dorian let out a quiet laugh. His thumb moved almost absently across the back of her hand, sending a shiver through her. "Such soft hands, Liam. Not very manly at all."

Liam yanked her hand back. Her eyes went cold in an instant.

Was he testing her?

"You should worry less about other people when you're not exactly in perfect health yourself," Liam shot back without missing a beat. "Thinking too hard tends to shorten a person's life, you know."

The air went still.

Mrs. Hayes startled. "Liam! Is that any way to talk to your brother?"

But Dorian raised a hand to stop her, his smile growing wider, a wild light flickering deep in those dark eyes. "It's fine, Mom. This attitude of his... I like it."

Mr. and Mrs. Hayes were determined to make it up to Liam — and they were not holding back.

To give Liam the kind of presence befitting a Hayes heir, Mr. Hayes arranged eight personal bodyguards, each standing six-foot-three, on 24-hour watch.

Mrs. Hayes, meanwhile, had gone all out decorating Liam's room — an all-black color scheme, various bladed weapons mounted on the walls, and a bed shaped like a race car.

Liam stared at the bed for a long moment.

Someone please help me. Mom's version of love is a little too intense.

"Liam, do you love it? I did so much research — guys your age are all into this dark, edgy aesthetic!" Mrs. Hayes looked at her expectantly, practically begging for praise.

Liam forced a smile that looked worse than a grimace. "...Love it. Absolutely love it."

Just then, Dorian was wheeled in by his nurse.

He glanced around the room and laughed under his breath. "Mom, are you sure this is for our little brother and not for some hardcore edgelord?"

Liam took a slow breath. Does this guy ever drop the sarcasm for even five seconds?

"I think it's great." Liam shoved her hands in her pockets and looked at him coldly. "Better than certain people who are stuck in a wheelchair and can't even afford to be edgy."

The light in Dorian's eyes dimmed. He waved for the nurse and Mrs. Hayes to leave.

The two of them were alone in the room.

The air shifted — sharp, coiled, ready to snap.