CHAPTER 2 : SHATTERED GLASS
1166 Words
LIORA'S POV
The sounds hit me first.
Filthy, wet moans. Skin slapping against skin. Heavy, desperate breathing.
“No… f**k, yes—don’t you dare stop,” a voice gasped breathlessly.
My stomach twisted violently as bile crawled up my throat.
For one insane second, I almost convinced myself I was hearing things.
That this was another nightmare.
Another cruel trick my mind was playing on me.
But then Dora moaned again.
I forced myself forward on legs that felt like lead, each step heavier, sharper, like knives digging into the sole of my feet.
The hallway of Damien Sterling’s private apartment seemed endless.
The closer I got to the bedroom, the louder the sounds became.
Wet kisses.
Breathless laughter.
The mattress hitting the wall
I reached the bedroom door and slid it open.
There he was.
Oscar.
Buried balls deep between my stepsister Dora’s thighs.
Her legs were locked around his waist like a vice, nails raking bloody lines down his back as she arched and moaned like a w***e beneath him.
Sweat-slicked bodies moved together in raw, shameless rhythm beneath the dim golden light.
The air reeked of s*x and betrayal.
For one brutal second, everything inside me went numb.
Then the pain crashed in.
Violent.
twisting.
Worse than the knife in my nightmare.
It carved straight through my chest and lodged in my lungs.
“Hope my sister hasn’t found out about this,” Dora panted between moans, fake innocence dripping from every word.
Oscar laughed darkly, thrusting harder, deeper.
“How would she?" He mocked breathlessly.
"She isn’t that smart. Always sick. Always weak. That pathetic body of hers could never compete with you.”
“She is, Oscar… don’t be deceived by her,” Dora moaned, her hips rolling up to meet him. “She’s full of drama.”
“Drama…” He laughed again, cruel and breathless. “How the f**k would a weak, sick b***h like her fight us? Where would she even find the strength?”
Dora giggled, the sound grating like broken glass in my ears.
“She is still my sister, Oscar,” she whispered dramatically, rolling her hips against him. “Don’t be too mean about her pathetic body.”
Every word carved deeper.
I stood frozen near the door, tasting blood where my teeth cut into my lip.
The same lips Oscar once kissed while promising forever.
“Don’t worry about anything, baby,”
Oscar growled, pounding into her relentlessly.
"I can take care of you for life now. Selling her father’s apartment solved everything.”
My entire body started shaking from rage.
I almost turned around. Almost walked away like the stupid girl they thought I was.
But then my eyes landed on the framed photo on the shelf.
Me and Oscar.
Smiling like idiots in love.
His arm around my shoulder.
His mouth pressed against my temple.
Like I actually mattered.
I snatched the frame, stormed into the room, and smashed it onto the bed with every ounce of rage left in my broken heart.
Glass exploded across their naked, sweat-drenched bodies.
Dora screamed.
“Liora—what the actual f**k?!” Oscar yelled, scrambling off Dora, yanking the sheet around his waist while she frantically covered herself, eyes wide with shock.
“You’ve got two days,” I said, my voice ice-cold and steady despite the storm ripping me apart inside.
“Two days to get my father’s property back from Sterling.”
Oscar stared at me like he didn’t recognize me anymore.
“How dare you storm in here acting... ”
I laughed.
The sound came out broken, terrifying, even to my own ears.
“Our relationship just shattered like that glass, Oscar.”
“What the hell are you talking about?!” he shouted.
“We’re done. You were never f*****g useful anyway.” My voice stayed flat, deadly.
“I only kept you around because you worked at Sterling. I thought you’d be the bridge I needed… but I was wrong.”
Dora’s eyes widened.
“Liora!” Dora shrieked.
I turned to her slowly, a cold smile cutting across my face.
“Thanks for picking up my trash, sis.”
Oscar’s expression darkened instantly. “The apartment is already sold! Nothing can bring it back now, you crazy b***h!”
I smiled, empty and chilling. “Fool.”
He had no idea he was just a disposable bridge leading me toward the real devil.
Damien Sterling
As I turned and walked out, his furious shouts chased me down the hall. “You were only using me too! It’s gone, Liora!"
"Gone!”
I didn’t look back.
---
The next morning
“It was your signature on the documents, Liora,” the lawyer said carefully, sliding the papers toward me like they were fragile enough to explode.
My stomach dropped.
The office suddenly felt suffocating.
My eyes locked onto the signature at the bottom of the page.
Mine.
The memory hit me instantly.
The memory slammed into me.
Oscar pouring wine into my glass that night.
His soft smile.
His hands rubbing my shoulders while calling them “routine company papers” connected to his promotion at Sterling.
I had been exhausted after another episode with my illness.
Dizzy.
Half-asleep.
Too trusting.
And stupid enough to sign without reading a single line.
My fingers curled tightly against the chair.
He planned everything.
He played me perfectly.
“It wasn’t me,” I hissed, voice shaking with fury. “He scammed me.”
The lawyer nodded sympathetically. “I understand. But I wish it was any other company. This is Sterling we’re talking about. Once they take something, they don’t release it. Ever."
The name alone made something cold move down my spine.
“They’re already preparing demolition permits for the property,” the lawyer continued quietly. “Luxury estates will be built there soon.”
Luxury estates.
Over Dad’s memories.
I forced my breathing steady.
In.
Out.
Slowly.
“I’m sorry,” the lawyer said gently. “The best thing now is to let it go and start over somewhere else.”
Let it go?
A sharp laugh almost escaped my throat.
My father died protecting that apartment.
And Oscar sold it to monsters wearing tailored suits.
No.
I refused.
Slowly, I looked down at my palms.
Tiny crescent cuts marked my skin from how hard I’d been clenching my fists.
Fresh blood gathered beneath my nails.
The metallic scent instantly dragged me back to the nightmare.
The knife.
Damien’s cold eyes.
The blood soaking the sheets.
A strange shiver crawled through me.
Like my nightmare wasn’t really a dream at all.
The Sterlings never changed.
Devils simply learned how to hide behind expensive watches, beautiful smiles, and billion-dollar companies.
But this time…
I wasn’t running.
No more bridges.
No more depending on Oscar
If I wanted my life back—
I would walk straight into the devil’s den myself.
And this time…
I would do it myself.
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