Be Careful
LILIANA’S POV
I slammed my office door shut so hard the frame rattled. The sound echoed through the high-ceilinged space, bouncing off the sleek marble floors and the glass wall that overlooked the city. My boutique’s office was usually my sanctuary—clean lines, plush cream chairs, racks of curated luxury pieces waiting to be displayed downstairs—but today even the polished perfection couldn’t soothe me.
The rage was still there, boiling, scorching me from the inside out. I dropped my bag onto my desk and pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes, trying to breathe. But every time I closed them, I saw their faces.
Clara, clutching her daughter like she was a porcelain doll. Lily, with that smug, fake look of wounded innocence. My father, glaring at me like I was the disappointment.
It made my stomach turn.
“God, I hate them,” I whispered to the room, my voice trembling with fury. “I hate them so much.”
The door creaked open softly.
“Lil?”
I looked up sharply. Erica slipped inside, iPad in hand, her sharp eyes scanning me in that way she always did—like she could read me better than I could read myself.
Her black hair was pulled into its usual sleek ponytail, her pencil skirt hugged her frame, and her stiletto heels clicked softly against the floor as she approached. My best friend, my personal assistant, my one constant in this suffocating world.
Her brows knitted together. “You’re fuming. What happened?”
I let out a humorless laugh and slumped into my chair, running a hand through my hair. “What didn’t happen? My father happened. Clara happened. Lily happened. Take your pick.”
Erica set her iPad down on the edge of my desk and perched against it, folding her arms. “Start talking.”
I sucked in a shaky breath, my nails digging crescents into my palm. “This morning Lily ran her mouth again. Same disgusting, venomous crap. And I… I finally snapped. I slapped her.”
Erica’s lips twitched. Not with disapproval—never that—but with something dangerously close to satisfaction. “Good,” she said simply, her voice flat, calm. “Honestly, it’s long overdue.”
That startled a laugh out of me, sharp and bitter. “You don’t get it. My dad walked in right after. And of course Lily turned on the waterworks, pretending I was some monster. Clara swooped in like she was protecting her delicate little flower, and my dad—he…”
My throat tightened, my chest heaving with the weight of it. “He looked at me like I was the problem. Like I’m the one destroying everything. He actually called me difficult.”
The word still burned like acid on my skin.
Erica’s eyes softened with sympathy, but her mouth curved with disdain. “That man… I swear. From the day I met Clara, I knew she was poison. And Lily? God, don’t even get me started. A smaller, shinier replica of her mother. Neither of them belongs in that house, Lil. They never have.”
Her words hit the raw, aching wound in my chest, and I bit down hard on my lip. “That’s what pisses me off the most. They walk into my home—my mother’s home—and act like they belong there. Like they’ve earned it. Like they can erase her.”
My voice cracked, rage colliding with grief. “She’s only been gone six months, Erica. Six months. And already it’s like she never existed. They’re sitting at her table, sleeping in her bed, poisoning my father against me. And he lets them. He actually lets them.”
For a while, silence stretched between us. The kind of silence that wasn’t empty but heavy, dense with everything unsaid.
Then Erica spoke, her voice quiet but steady. “Are you still going tonight?”
My head jerked up. “Tonight?”
“The dinner Clara’s hosting,” Erica reminded, tilting her head. “At the estate.”
Just hearing the word “dinner” was enough to make my stomach twist. But then—like a ray of light piercing through the storm—the thought struck me. Ronny.
Ronny would be there.
The corner of my lips lifted despite myself. “Yes,” I said, a smile tugging at my face for the first time all day. “I’m going. Because Ronny will be there.”
Erica’s lips curved too, but there was no mirth in her eyes—only warning. “Then you need to be careful. Very careful. If it’s true that your mother’s car accident wasn’t just an accident, then whoever caused it…” She trailed off, letting the weight of the thought settle between us. “…is still around. Watching. Waiting. Maybe even dining with you tonight.”
Her words chilled me, cutting through my brief moment of warmth like ice. But I forced myself to nod, to meet her gaze. “I know. I’ll be careful.”
“You’d better be,” Erica said firmly, her tone sharp with fear she rarely let show. “I can’t lose you, Lil. Not you.”
Something broke in me at that. My vision blurred with sudden tears, and before I could stop myself, I stood and pulled her into a hug. She didn’t hesitate, wrapping her arms around me tightly, grounding me.
“I’ve got you,” she whispered into my hair. “Always.”
I clung to her for a moment longer before finally pulling away, swiping at my eyes with the back of my hand. I hated crying. But with Erica, it didn’t feel like weakness. It felt like release.
I drew a long breath and straightened, forcing myself back into business mode. “So… the dresses. Did the new collection arrive?”
Erica smiled faintly, letting me shift gears. “Yes. They’re in storage downstairs. The delivery team wants your approval before they start arranging them in the showroom. I’ve already pulled the inventory list.”
“Good.” My voice steadied, finding its rhythm again. This—fashion, design, my boutique—this was mine. The one place untouched by Clara and Lily’s poison. “I’ll look over them after lunch.”
Erica nodded and grabbed her iPad again. “Perfect. I’ll get everything sorted for you.”
She hesitated at the door before glancing back at me. “And Lil?”
“Yeah?”
Her expression softened, but her eyes gleamed with steel. “Don’t let them win. Not tonight. Not ever.”
I felt something hot spark in my chest—not grief this time, but resolve. “I won’t.”
When she left, silence settled over the room again. But it wasn’t the hollow, suffocating silence from this morning. It was… steadier.
I dropped into my chair, leaning back, staring out at the skyline beyond the glass wall. The city buzzed beneath me, alive, unbothered by the wars I was fighting. Somewhere down there, people were drinking coffee, shopping, laughing, living. And here I was—gearing up to step into a dinner hosted by the woman I hated most in the world.
But Ronny would be there.
The thought curled through me, soft and thrilling, easing the storm inside me. Just the image of his dark eyes, the sound of his voice was enough to make my chest unclench.
I couldn’t wait.
For once, the anger that had consumed me all morning shifted into something else. Anticipation. Fire.
Clara could host her dinner. Lily could play her little games. My father could glare at me across the room.
I’d walk in wearing armor made of silk and diamonds, my head held high. And I’d have Ronny there.
The thought made me smile.
Tonight couldn’t come fast enough.
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