Chapter 3

Dorian steered his wheelchair toward her, closing the distance until the footrest pressed against the tips of her shoes. He tilted his head back slightly, gazing up at Liam's cool, unreadable face.

"Liam." He said her name — voice low and rough, with a thread of something that felt almost obsessive. "What exactly are you hiding?"

Liam looked down at him, then slowly leaned in — both hands braced on the armrests of his wheelchair, caging him in place.

Their noses nearly touched. Their breath mingled.

"You want to know?" Liam's mouth curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "Then beg me."

Dorian's breath caught. The wildness in his eyes nearly spilled over. He reached up in one swift motion and grabbed her tie, yanking her down hard.

Liam was pulled forward, her lips grazing his ear.

"Patience," Dorian murmured against her ear, his voice low and intoxicating. "The best hunts... are the ones you take your time with."

Liam shoved him away and straightened her tie, eyes cold as ice. "Who's the prey here? That's still up for debate."

Push and pull. The tension between them had been pushed to its absolute limit.

A frenemy had been right by my side all along.

To formally introduce their recovered heir to the world, the Hayes family decided to throw the gala of the century.

Liam was planted in front of a mirror and forced to endure the torture of a top-tier stylist.

A perfectly tailored white haute couture suit traced every line of her lean, upright figure. Her hair was swept back, revealing a smooth forehead and sharp, striking eyes.

She stared at herself in the mirror. Way too much corporate drone energy.

Dorian sat nearby, red wine in hand, his gaze roaming over her without the slightest attempt to hide it.

"Your waist is too small," Dorian said suddenly, a barely perceptible roughness in his voice.

The stylist blinked. "Dorian, this is already the smallest size we carry."

"I said—" Dorian kept his eyes fixed on Liam, the way someone studies a piece of art they consider exclusively theirs. "Her waist. Is too small. Not exactly... manly."

Liam's heart skipped a beat, but her expression didn't crack. "Are you jealous of my figure? I mean, spending all that time in a wheelchair does cause muscle atrophy. Totally understandable."

Instead of getting angry, Dorian let out a low, quiet laugh.

"Is that so? Then tonight, I'll make sure to get a good, long look at my little brother's 'great figure.'"

The gala was held at a seven-star hotel owned by the Hayes family.

Politicians, executives, and power players from every corner of society had gathered under one roof.

Liam moved through the crowd on autopilot, champagne in hand — a hollow smile plastered on her face as she dealt with wave after wave of people trying to get close to her.

Just as Hayes Sr. was about to step up to the podium for his speech, the doors to the banquet hall burst open.

A woman with wild, disheveled hair and torn clothes came charging in, a fruit knife clutched in her hand.

It was Blair.

After being blacklisted by the Hayes family, she hadn't just been expelled from school — she'd been buried under a mountain of debt. She had completely lost it.

"Liam! You destroyed my life! I'll take you down with me!" Blair screamed, her voice unhinged.

The room erupted into chaos.

Before security could move in, Blair pressed the knife to her own throat and screamed at the press cameras: "You've all been fooled by him! He's not some heir to a powerful family! He's a monster! He's a rapist!"

Camera flashes fired like machine guns.

Blair's sobs came out raw and ragged. "Back at school, he dragged me into the men's bathroom and assaulted me! I still have the scars he left on my body! The Hayes family covered it all up to protect their reputation! Someone has to stand up for me!"

The room erupted.

Sexual assault? Rape?

This was the scandal of the century.

Hayes Sr. was shaking with rage. "Get this lunatic out of here!"

"Anyone who touches me — I'll die right here!" Blair's emotions had spiraled completely out of control. The blade had already nicked her throat, and a thin line of blood trickled down her neck.

No one dared move.

Dorian sat in the corner, watching the scene coldly. But his eyes stayed locked on Liam, as if he was waiting to see how she'd play this.

Liam let out a slow breath.

Fine. Let it all burn.

She set down her champagne glass and, under the stunned gazes of every person in the room, walked toward Blair — one step at a time.

"You're saying," Liam's voice was quiet and ice-cold, "that I assaulted you in a men's bathroom?"

"That's right! You animal!" Blair spat through clenched teeth.

Liam smiled.

It was a wild, wicked smile. Almost dangerous.

The next second, she did something that short-circuited every brain in the room.

She raised her hand, grabbed the lapel of her suit jacket, and yanked it off — letting it drop to the floor without a second glance.

Then her fingers found the first button of her white dress shirt.

"What — what are you doing?!" Blair panicked.

Liam ignored her.

Click. The first button came undone.

The entire room fell dead silent. The only sound was the collective sharp intake of breath.

Click. The second.

Click. The third.

When the shirt fell fully open, the room exploded in a roar that could have blown the roof off.

There was no flat chest beneath.

Under a fitted black sports bra were unmistakably feminine curves — and a waist so slender it looked like it could fit in the span of two hands.

Her pale skin practically glowed under the lights.