Chapter 63 The Boy She Shouldn't Love
Danielle's Pov
I wasn’t ready to step back onto campus but regardless, Mark had sent his driver to drop me off earlier.
I hugged my books tighter and kept walking, praying no one would ask how my weekend went.
Because how do you explain a powerful man staring down your guardian like he was daring him to breathe?
I just wanted to disappear into the nearest restroom and sit there until classes were over.
But then…
“Danielle.”
His voice came through.
That soft familiar feeling.
I halted.
Liam stepped out from behind a column, like he’d been waiting the whole morning for me to appear.
His hair was slightly messy, his eyes shadowed like he hadn’t slept. And when he looked at me… God, I hated how the ground tilted a little.
“Can we talk?” he asked gently.
I should’ve said no. I should’ve remembered Mark’s clenched jaw and the way he told me to stay away from him. I should’ve walked away.
But instead, I nodded. Because I couldn’t help it.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “Okay.”
He took me to a quiet spot behind the library, one of those places students pretended didn’t exist.
A concrete bench, a few stubborn trees, and silence.
The moment we sat down, Liam exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for days.
“I’m sorry about the other day,” he said. “About… everything.”
His fingers tapped his knee nervously. It was strange, Liam always acted like the guy who had everything handled. Seeing him this unsteady tugged something in me.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I told him, trying to sound calmer than I felt. “I just didn’t expect your… um… family.”
His jaw tightened. “Yeah. They have that effect.”
I waited, thinking the conversation would stop there.
But instead, he did something I didn’t expect. He opened up.
“My mom left when I was eight,” he said quietly. “She couldn’t handle my father. Or the expectations. Or the… control.”
I blinked. He’d barely said two personal sentences to me since we met. This was something else entirely.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured.
He shook his head like it didn’t matter, though the ache in his voice betrayed him.
“My dad’s strict and cold. Everything he does is about legacy, reputation and control.” Liam scoffed lightly.
“I grew up in a house where emotions were considered mistakes.”
My chest tightened.
“And the man you saw that day, Jonathan, that’s my eldest brother,” he continued. “Dad practically worships him. He took over the company young, never made a wrong move, never messed up, never… failed.”
A small, sad smile tugged at his mouth.
“And then there’s me.”
I frowned. “What does that even mean?”
“It means,” he said, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve,
“I’m always the one being compared. The one who’s supposed to ‘step up’ someday. The one who can’t afford to screw anything up because Jonathan already has a template of how to be the perfect son.”
I stared at him.
This wasn’t the Liam people saw, the charming boy with easy smiles and perfect posture. This was someone bruised on the inside.
“Do you ever tell them how you feel?” I asked quietly.
He laughed but it sounded hollow. “My family doesn’t believe in feelings.”
His gaze met mine, almost painfully honest.
“They believe in performance.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
I’d always thought I liked him,just a little, just enough to blush whenever he remembered something I said.
But listening to him now… it was different.
Something warm and unsteady unfurled in my chest.
“You don’t have to be anything for me,” I whispered before I could stop myself.
He froze.
And then he looked at me like I’d just handed him oxygen.
“Danielle,” he said softly, “that’s exactly the problem.”
My heart stuttered. “Why?”
“Because I like who I am when I’m with you.”
I swallowed hard. I wasn’t used to hearing things like that. I wasn’t used to being someone people confessed to.
Before I could respond, a breeze drifted between us, cold enough to make me shiver. Liam leaned in slightly, not touching, but close enough that I felt the warmth radiating off him.
Close friends with something more simmering underneath.
Feelings we pretended not to understand.
I should’ve pulled back.
I didn’t.
Later that night, my phone buzzed as I was changing into pajamas.
“Mark,” the screen read.
Odd. He rarely called me after 9 p.m.
I answered. “Hey.”
“Where are you?” His voice was sharp. Sharp in a way he had never used with me.
“Um… in my room? Why?”
“You went to campus today.”
“Yes…”
“You saw him.”
I swallowed. “Sir…”
“Danielle.”
The way he said my name, God. He sounded like a volcano trying not to erupt.
“The Carvers are not people you should be around,” he said, each word clipped. “I don’t care what he tells you. I don’t care how he acts. Stay. Away. From him.”
I stared at my desk. “You’re treating me like a child.”
“You’re acting like one.”
My breath caught. He had never spoken to me like that. Not once.
“I’m warning you, Danielle.”
“That family is poisonous. I’m not repeating myself.”
He hung up before I could reply.
For a full minute, I just stood there, staring at the wall, anger and confusion burning beneath my ribs.
Mark was supposed to be the calm one. The one who never raised his voice at me. But whatever was going on between him and Jonathan Carver, whatever he was hiding.was eating at him.
And it was controlling me.
No.
I wouldn’t let that happen.
So I ignored his warning.
And the next morning, I met Liam again.
Not because I was rebellious.
But because something about him pulled me in, no matter how hard I tried to resist.
We were in my dorm room, sitting on the floor with my laptop open while he “submitted an assignment.”
“I’ll just upload it here,” Liam said as he typed a little too fast, eyes darting over the screen.
“You always turn in your work early,” I teased lightly. “Show-off.”
He smirked. “Maybe I like impressing you.”
I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks burned.
He leaned back slightly, fingers slowing. “You really don’t mind me being here?”
“No,” I whispered honestly. “I don’t.”
His smile softened.
That smile could melt every ounce of caution I had.
He reached for his bag and unzipped a side pocket. I barely noticed my attention was on the way the lamplight caught the curve of his jaw. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw him slip something into the USB port.
A flash drive.
He kept talking casually, smiling like nothing was happening.
But when Liam pulled the flash drive out and tucked it back into his bag, he did it quickly. Too quickly.
My heartbeat skipped.
I should’ve questioned it.
But instead… I let it go.
Because I wanted to believe him.
I wanted to believe that liking someone didn’t automatically make you stupid.
Even though deep down, Something told me I had just crossed a line I couldn’t uncross.