CHAPTER 3 : RUIN OF HOME
990 Words
LIORA'S POV
“You’re still too young to fight them, Liora,” he said softly, almost pitying.
“The Sterlings play a different game.”
I leaned back in the lawyer’s stiff chair, the weight of his words pressing hard against my chest.
A different game.
That was exactly how my father used to describe them too.
Not businessmen.
Predators.
My phone wouldn’t stop ringing beside me.
Stepmonster.
Again.
And again.
No doubt Dora had gone crying to her mother the second I walked out.
I killed the call and switched the damn thing off completely.
Silence.
But it didn’t last long.
My eyes slowly lifted toward the television mounted on the office wall.
And there he was.
William Sterling.
The devil himself.
Perfect suit.
Perfect smile.
Rage surged through me so violently my fingers tightened around the armrest until it creaked beneath my grip.
That same f*****g smile.
The same smile he wore ten years ago when he stabbed my father in the back.
“Hello everyone,” Mr Williams said warmly to the camera. “I’m truly grateful for your continued trust and support."
His polished voice filled the office smoothly.
"It gives the Sterling Empire the strength to deliver excellence in every project…”
Lies.
Every word sounded dipped in poison.
“Because a better home builds a stronger family,” he continued, eyes gleaming with fake sincerity.
“I want every person to live in a place that nurtures love, peace, and beautiful memories.”
I smirked bitterly.
Beautiful memories?
The man who ruined families was now selling dreams to the public.
“And I have even greater news to share with all of you who have placed your faith in us…”
He paused dramatically.
“Construction has officially begun on our newest flagship estate.”
Something cold slid down my spine.
The camera shifted.
My blood froze instantly.
No..
No no no—
The camera cut to the site — Macas road.
My father’s apartment building.
Bulldozers rumbling across the ground like mechanical monsters.
Bulldozers surrounded it like hungry monsters waiting to feed.
Workers moved in and out carrying furniture.
My furniture.
“In the next three to four weeks,” William proudly, “a new, beautiful community will rise on Macas Road.”
I shot up from the chair so fast it nearly crashed backward.
“No.”
The word came out broken.
The lawyer stood quickly. “Liora—”
But I was already running.
I left everything behind.
My bag.
The documents.
Even my pride.
Rain slammed against my face the second I burst onto the street.
Cold.
Sharp.
But none of it hurt as much as the panic tearing through my chest.
Every second felt like another piece of my father disappearing forever.
I flagged down a taxi desperately.
“Macas Road,” I gasped. “Please—drive faster.”
The ride felt endless.
Every traffic light made me want to scream.
Every slow-moving car felt like torture.
My knee bounced violently the entire time while dread clawed deeper into my stomach.
Please don’t destroy it yet.
Please.
When the taxi finally stopped, my heart nearly gave out..
Bulldozers roaring.
Workers shouted over the heavy rain.
Mud splashed everywhere.
And my entire life—
was scattered across the ground like garbage.
Books.
Clothes.
Furniture.
My father’s old records.
Everything thrown into the rain without care.
The front door of the apartment hung open like a corpse split apart.
My chest tightened so painfully I almost couldn’t breathe.
My home now looked like a war zone.
One massive man stood near the doorway barking orders while another worker dragged more boxes outside.
“Throw everything out,” the man in the suit ordered coldly.
My vision blurred red.
“What the hell are you doing?!” I screamed, sprinting forward through the mud.
The worker ignored me completely.
Then another bag hit the ground.
A picture frame slipped out.
Cracked against the pavement.
Shattered.
I froze.
Dad’s smiling face stared back at me through broken glass as rainwater soaked the photograph.
The same smile that used to greet me every morning.
And now his memory was lying in mud like trash.
I stormed straight up to the massive bastard, grabbed his expensive tie in a vicious yank, and jerked his face down to mine.
He was huge.
Built like a tank.
Cold eyes.
Pure arrogance.
But I didn’t care.
“Who the hell are you?” I hissed furiously.
“Who the f**k told you to touch my things?”
The man stared down at me without fear.
Without guilt.
Without anything..
“Slow down.”
That deep, calm voice slid through the rain behind me like a knife.
My fingers loosened from the man’s tie instantly.
Every muscle in my body went rigid.
I knew that voice.
Even in hell, I would recognize it.
Slowly—
I turned.
Damien Sterling stood there in the rain, tall, broad-shouldered, and devastatingly composed in a tailored black suit that clung to his broad frame.
Raindrops traced slowly down his sharp jaw and throat.
His dark eyes locked onto me immediately.
Those same dead, dangerous eyes from my nightmare.
Except now they were real.
And somehow even worse.
My breathing faltered.
The rain suddenly didn’t feel cold anymore..
Damien’s gaze moved slowly down my soaked body, lingering on my trembling hands, my heaving chest, the mud splashed against my legs.
Then his eyes returned to mine.
Heat.
Possession.
Something dark enough to ruin me completely.
A slow, dangerously seductive smile curved his lips.
“Well, well… Liora Vale,” he murmured, his voice low and velvet-rough.
The sound of my name on his tongue sent unwanted heat curling low in my stomach.
“Look at you."
His eyes darkened slightly.
“Soaked. Furious. Standing in the middle of destruction.”
He took one slow step closer.
“Exactly where I wanted you.”
- Writer
