Collateral Hearts

chapter two

As the car rolled up the long, familiar driveway, my throat tightened. I swallowed hard, watching guests step out of their sleek vehicles, draped in glittering jewels, diamonds catching the light, elegance worn like armor. Everyone looked effortlessly polished, painfully composed.

The mansion I once called home loomed ahead of us—tall, imposing, and utterly unapologetic. Its pristine façade was adorned with tasteful décor, carefully placed to impress, just like everything else about the place. It hadn’t changed. Or maybe it had, and I was the one who no longer fit into it.

I turned slightly when I felt a hand slip into mine.

“Everything is going to be okay,” Liza murmured. “We don’t belong here anymore.”

Her smoky eyes met mine in the dim glow of the car’s interior, steady and sincere. She understood—better than anyone ever could. After all, we had both chosen to be the black sheep, the ones who walked away from the suffocating, pretentious world of inherited wealth in exchange for freedom, uncertainty, and the luxury of being ourselves.

And yet, here we were—back at its gates.

“You didn’t have to do this, you know,” I said, glancing at her.

And yet, I hadn’t exactly discouraged her either. I knew this place pressed on old wounds for her too, but the truth was embarrassingly simple—I needed her. Strength in numbers. Emotional support. Moral backup. Call it what you want.

“Yes, I did,” Liza replied, utterly unfazed. “You’re a terrible storyteller. I refuse to experience this saga through your vague descriptions and emotional deflection.”

I scoffed. “I am not a terrible storyteller.”

She raised a brow. “You skipped three years of trauma with ‘it was complicated.’ That’s criminal.”

A laugh escaped me despite the tightness in my chest. I shook my head, reaching for the door handle. “Ready?”

Her answering smile was downright devilish. “Ready.”

We stepped out of the car together.

Cool night air brushed against my skin, carrying the faint scent of expensive perfume, polished marble, and money pretending to be elegance. Conversations faltered—not stopped, just… stuttered—as a few heads turned our way.

Liza looked entirely unbothered by the attention. The short pink sequin dress clung to her like it had been designed with mischief in mind, catching the light with every movement. Two delicate straps rested on her shoulders, deceptively innocent for someone who looked like she’d come prepared to start a scandal. The blanket was gone now, replaced with confidence sharpened into glitter.

Beside her, I smoothed a hand down my pale blue off-shoulder gown, the fabric soft against my skin. A daring slit ran up the side, stopping just short of my mid-thigh—subtle, but intentional. My blonde hair spilled down my back in loose waves, framing a version of myself I hadn’t seen in years. Not the girl who ran. Not the daughter who disappointed. Just… me

The crunch of gravel beneath our shoes sounded louder than it should have, each step pulling me closer to a past I’d sworn I was done with. The mansion loomed ahead, its lights glowing warmly, deceptively inviting. I straightened my spine anyway. If I was walking into enemy territory, I wasn’t doing it hunched.

We passed guests draped in silk and sequins, diamonds flashing beneath chandelier light spilling out through tall windows. I felt their eyes linger—measuring, remembering, reassessing. Some curious. Some disapproving. A few unmistakably startled.

“Ten bucks says someone asks where you’ve been before we hit the door,” Liza said lightly.

“Make it five,” I replied. “They’ll pretend not to recognize me first.”

We claimed a spot near one of the pillars, champagne flutes in hand, and simply watched.

“Seriously,” Liza muttered after a moment, unimpressed. “No one?”

I took a slow sip. “They’re staring. Whispering. Processing.”

She sighed. “Boring.”

“Careful,” I said quietly. “Looks like you’re about to get your wish.”

She followed my gaze.

Brian Kemp was approaching—swagger intact, confidence inflated, familiarity etched into every step. We’d all grown up in the same circle. But Brian and Liza?

Oil and fire.

She groaned as he stopped in front of us.

Brian’s smile widened, like he’d stumbled upon entertainment instead of two women clearly unimpressed by his presence. He adjusted his cufflinks—unnecessary, but entirely on-brand—and gave us a slow once-over.

“Well,” he drawled, “if it isn’t a surprise reunion.”

His gaze lingered on me just a second too long before sliding back to Liza.

“You both look… like trouble.”

Liza blinked. Once. Twice.

“Trouble?” she echoed, c*****g her head innocently. “It’s a party, Brian.”

“Didn’t think you’d come,” he sneered lightly. “Since we’re apparently too good for you.”

For a fleeting second, I thought I saw something else flicker across his face.

Hurt?

“You still are,” Liza shot back smoothly. “We were just strolling by.”

“Liza Minnelli,” Brian drawled. “Ever brazen.”

“Brian Kemp,” she replied sweetly. “Ever… Brian.”

I took another slow sip of champagne, already bracing myself to intervene—

Then the music faded.

The MC’s voice carried smoothly over the room.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. And now, it is time for our hosts to make their grand entrance—the Courts.”

A ripple of anticipation swept through the hall.

My grip tightened around the stem of my glass.

At the top of the sweeping staircase, they appeared.

My parents.

Mr. and Mrs. Court—immaculate, composed, untouchable. My father’s presence was commanding, sharp-eyed and severe. My mother stood beside him in elegant poise, her smile perfected to appear warm without ever being sincere.

They descended slowly, greeting guests with practiced ease.

Then Selene appeared.

She looked regal, luminous in a gown that complemented her authority, Ethan by her side—handsome, polished, fitting neatly into the image they wanted to sell.

I drew in a slow, steadying breath, letting the air fill my lungs as I watched them glide through the room, exchanging polite smiles and firm handshakes with their guests. They hadn’t noticed me yet—not my parents, not Selene, not Ethan.

When they finally settled around their table, laughter and conversation blending seamlessly with the clinking of glasses, I straightened my spine, smoothed the front of my gown, and took a step forward.

Each stride felt measured, deliberate, as if the hall itself had narrowed to a spotlight just for me.

However, my steps faltered when a familiar figure appeared ahead. A back bent slightly as he spoke quietly to my father. The movement, the posture—it was impossibly familiar.

When he straightened, I froze.

My breath caught. My chest tightened. And there he was—Zayn. My ex-fiancé.The same dark, piercing eyes that had haunted both my dreams and my nightmares now locked onto me, and I felt the air shift, heavy with unspoken history and barely contained tension.

For a moment, the glittering hall, the whispers, the chandeliers—all of it—faded. There was only him.

His gaze held mine, dark and unreadable, as if the years between us hadn’t existed at all. As if nothing had been broken. As if everything still was.

My pulse thundered in my ears, but I forced my shoulders back, my chin up. If this night was determined to drag my past out into the open, then it would find me standing—not running.

Still, one thought echoed louder than the rest, sharp and undeniable.

This wasn’t just a party anymore.

And Zayn’s presence meant only one thing—

nothing about tonight was going to go according to plan.