Xavier Blake stepped into the Blake estate and was immediately greeted by the sound of shattering glass.
Again?
He didn't flinch. The familiar sight of the grand chandelier sparkling overhead, the marble floors echoing his footsteps—none of it felt like home. It was a museum of wealth, a cold palace with high expectations carved into every corner.
From the parlor, his parents' voices pierced through the silence.
"You just got back yesterday, Harrison!" his mother snapped. "Do you even care about this family? About me?"
"I care about the future of this family," his father replied, voice low and sharp. "The business is the family."
"You mean your ego is the family!"
Xavier rolled his eyes and walked past the noise. He didn't stop, didn't speak, didn't care. It was always like this.
Always.
He took the grand stairs two at a time, headed to the farthest wing of the mansion—his room. A sprawling suite with too many mirrors and not enough warmth.
He threw his bag on the bed and tapped the screen on the wall.
"Yes, Master Xavier?" a soft voice came through. His personal maid, Aileen.
"I want food. Something warm."
"Yes, sir. Right away."
He collapsed into the leather chair by the floor-to-ceiling windows and stared out at the city lights.
But instead of the skyline, all he could see was her face.
Liana.
That spark in her eyes when she stood up to him. The way her voice cut through his arrogance like a blade. The sketchpad clutched to her chest like it was her soul.
Who even was she?
He didn't understand it. He had pranked dozens of students, broken more egos than he could count. But none of them had looked so… unfazed.
He was still thinking when his phone buzzed.
"Sis".
He answered, exhaling. "Nia."
"Xave!" her voice was warm but laced with tension. "How's home?"
"Same," he said flatly.
"Let me guess—mom's throwing threats again and dad's already halfway across the world?"
Xavier didn't reply.
Nia sighed. "Xave, it's the Blakes. We were born into chaos."
He leaned back in his chair. "You sound like you've accepted it."
"Because I had to. I was married off at twenty to a man I barely knew—because he was wealthy. That was my price."
He felt his jaw tighten.
"And yours," she continued, "is to become the face of the Blake empire."
"I didn't ask for that."
"Neither did I."
Silence hung between them.
Nia softened. "What's really going on?"
Xavier hesitated. Then, "There's this girl."
"Ohhh," Nia teased. "Now we're talking. What did she do?"
"She's… different."
"She get under your skin?"
"She makes me think."
Nia laughed. "Then she's dangerous."
He smiled—just a little.
"She doesn't care about money. She's not scared of me. And today, I pulled a whole stunt with the guys, and she didn't even flinch."
"She's not falling for your usual tricks?"
"Nope."
"Then you, little brother, are in trouble."
He chuckled, but it faded quickly.
"I can't… feel at home here anymore."
"Then leave."
"I can't."
"You're the heir. You don't get to run. But maybe—just maybe—you can find something real before they take everything from you."
The call ended, and for a while, he sat in the quiet hum of luxury, suffocated.
Minutes later, he sent a message to the group chat.
"Party. Midnight. Usual spot."
The Vipers answered fast. They always did.
By midnight, the music was loud, the lights dim, the girls wild, and the drinks endless.
But Xavier didn't smile. Not really.
Because all through the party, all through the noise and chaos and shallow praise, his mind stayed with one girl.
The scholarship artist with fire in her soul.
Liana.