Lilian's Point Of View
I could barely hold in the scream clawing its way up my throat.
The hallway was dim, the shadows from the chandelier slicing across the marble tiles like jagged blades. Graham’s arm wrapped around my waist as we ascended the stairs, his grip possessive, almost as if trying to stake a claim.
I smiled.
Not the smile of a glowing, happy, expectant woman… no. Mine was colder. Sharper. The kind of smile that slices skin before you even feel the blood. It was the smile of a woman who had just claimed victory in a brutal, unrelenting war of hearts.
My fingers dug into my palms, nails biting into the soft flesh, pretending everything was fine, pretending like my heart wasn’t thundering with rage and betrayal.
But inside? I was boiling. That b***h. That filthy, arrogan
