By the time dinner rolled around, I'd changed outfits three times.
Nothing I wore felt right. Too casual, too stiff, too… me.
In the end, I settled on a simple black dress and tied my hair back. I didn't want to impress anyone—but I also didn't want to give them a reason to look at me like I didn't belong. Not on the first night.
The dining room looked like something out of a film. Long mahogany table. A chandelier that sparkled like it had its own mood. Polished silverware, wine glasses already half-filled—even though I was pretty sure I wasn't legal to drink yet.
Mr. Ashford sat at the head of the table like a king on his throne, perfectly composed in a tailored suit despite it being a Thursday night at home. He nodded politely when I walked in.
"Claire. Welcome to our home."
Our home. It still felt strange hearing that.
"Thank you," I said quietly, taking a seat next to my mom. She beamed like she'd just won something.
Adrian came in last.
He wore black again—button-up this time, sleeves casually rolled. His hair was still messy, and his face unreadable. He didn't look at me when he sat across the table.
But I felt him.
Like the air changed.
Dinner started with a toast. Mr. Ashford raised his glass, smiling at Mom like the world revolved around her. "To new beginnings," he said.
"To family," she added, squeezing my hand.
I forced a smile, but my stomach twisted. The food was beautiful—steak, roasted vegetables, something expensive with truffle—but I barely tasted any of it. I was too focused on how silent Adrian was.
He didn't speak unless spoken to. Gave short, sharp answers. Smirked once when his father made a joke, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"Adrian," Mom said sweetly, "You'll help Claire adjust to campus, right? Maybe show her around?"
He glanced at me—just for a second. A flicker of something passed between us. I couldn't name it.
"Sure," he said. Then looked away.
That was it. No smile. No warmth. Just a promise I didn't ask for and didn't trust.
After dinner, everyone moved toward the lounge. Mom and Mr. Ashford sank into matching armchairs near the fireplace, wine glasses in hand, speaking in hushed, happy tones.
I lingered in the hallway, unsure if I was supposed to stay or disappear.
That's when Adrian appeared beside me. Silent as ever.
"They like the idea of us getting along," he said, voice low.
I turned toward him. "And what do you think?"
He studied me for a moment, then leaned just a little closer.
"I think they have no idea what that actually means."
Before I could respond, he turned and walked off—again leaving me with nothing but a pounding heart and too many questions.
That night, I lay awake in the giant bed in my new room, staring at the ceiling.
I didn't know what this house was hiding.
But I could feel it in my bones.
Something was coming.
And it had his name written all over it.
The mansion was too quiet at night.
Not like home—my old home—where I could hear the occasional dog barking down the street or the hum of my mom's late-night cooking shows. Here, everything was too polished. Too still. Even the silence had an echo.
I sat curled on the window seat in my room, wearing an oversized hoodie and staring out at the glittering LA skyline. A different kind of brightness. Cold. Untouchable.
My phone buzzed with a text.
Jas :
"Miss you already. How's billionaire life? "
I smiled—sadly. Jas was my best friend. The kind who never judged and always had gum. We'd talked about college dorms, broke-girl dates, late-night cram sessions. All of it was supposed to happen together.
But then Mom met James Ashford.
And just like that, I wasn't going to a regular state school anymore. I was headed to Redwood Hills University—population: rich, powerful, and extremely well-dressed. With Adrian Ashford as my built-in tour guide.
Me:
"It's big. Quiet. Weird. I feel like a guest in someone else's life."
A minute later:
Jas :
"You ARE someone else's life now. Text me every detail. Also, is your stepbrother as hot as Google says?? "
I rolled my eyes, tossed the phone on the bed, and pulled my knees to my chest.
Yes. He was.
And that was exactly the problem.
The way Adrian looked at me—or didn't look at me—made it hard to breathe sometimes. There was something dangerous behind his eyes. Like he was holding onto secrets so sharp they could cut.
I wasn't ready for that. I wasn't ready for him.
I thought about my first day at Redwood, now only days away. A new campus. A place where no one knew me as Claire, the girl who lost her dad, or Claire, who loved sketching but hated crowds, or Claire, who always ate red licorice while studying.
Here, I would just be Claire Ashford, stepdaughter of a billionaire, shadowed by her stepbrother's name.
Would I even recognize myself after this?
I leaned back against the window, the cold glass pressing against my spine.
So many things felt out of my control. But one thing was clear:
Whatever this new life brought me—friendships, enemies, secrets—I'd face it.
I just wasn't sure yet…
if I'd survive it.
I left the window eventually, restless and unsure why I couldn't sleep.
The hallway outside my room stretched out in quiet darkness, lit only by soft wall sconces and moonlight filtering through tall windows. I walked slowly, barefoot, not really thinking—just trying to breathe in this strange new life.
That's when I heard voices.
Soft, muffled, coming from the lounge down the hall. The door was open just enough. I knew I shouldn't stop. I definitely shouldn't listen.
But I did.
Mom and James were sitting close on the couch, wine glasses in hand, her heels kicked off under the table.
"She's adjusting," Mom said, her voice lower than usual. "It's just a lot for her. Everything happened so fast."
"She seems quiet," James replied. "And cautious."
"She is cautious. Claire's been through more than you know." Her voice cracked a little. "It's not just the move. It's the life we left behind. Her friends. Her dad…"
James sighed. "I understand. But we're giving her everything now. Opportunity. Stability. Safety."
"Sometimes that's not enough," Mom said gently. "It's not about money. Claire doesn't trust easily. And I don't want her to feel like a stranger in her own home."
There was a pause, then his voice, lower, firmer: "She'll adapt. Everyone does. Especially when they realize what they've been given."
My chest tightened.
What they've been given.
Like I was supposed to feel grateful. Like I'd been rescued.
But I hadn't asked for any of this.
I turned quietly and padded back to my room, heartbeat in my ears.
Behind my door, I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. I knew Mom meant well—she always had. But hearing them talk about me like I was a project, a delicate thing that just needed time to adjust—it stung more than I expected.
They didn't see it.
I wasn't just trying to settle in.
I was trying not to disappear completely.
And as much as I hated to admit it… the only person who seemed to see through the act, to the parts of me even I was trying to hide—was Adrian.
And that thought terrified me more than anything else in this house