Chapter 60 The Wrong Girl
Liam's POV
The walls of my father's study were lined with heavy books, expensive paintings, and the kind of silence that made you feel smaller the longer you stood in it. Everything in this room screamed power, control, and legacy. The kind of life I never asked for, but was expected to carry anyway.
I stood near the bay window with my fists clenched at my sides, my jaw locked as the space between me and my father stretched longer than it should have.
"I'm not going back," I said at last, my voice low but firm. "I'll transfer. I'll study abroad like I planned."
From behind the desk, Rafael Alcaraz did not even look up from his crystal tumbler. He swirled the amber liquid once, calm and unbothered, then set it down like he had all the time in the world.
"You're not leaving Suncrest."
My throat tightened. "We talked about this."
"No," he cut in, and this time his voice sharpened, cold steel wrapped in control. "You talked. I listened. That wasn't agreement, Liam. That was tolerance. A luxury I'm now done extending."
My pulse quickened, anger rising so fast I could barely breathe.
"This school, this whole setup it's never been mine. I wanted to"
"What you wanted died the moment Julian did," my father snapped as he stood, the words landing like a slap across my face. But even then, his tone stayed smooth. Measured. Like he was delivering a business decision instead of ripping my life apart.
"You're the heir now," he continued. "And heirs do not run."
My shoulders stiffened. Every time Julian's name came up, the guilt followed. Like a shadow. Like a chain. Like it had been my fault that I was still here and my brother was not.
But today, the guilt came with fury.
"I'm not Julian," I replied.
My father rounded the desk, buttoning his jacket with slow, deliberate movements. "No. You're not. But you're all I have left. And it's time you start acting like it."
I turned away, my hands tightening into fists at my sides. My chest felt so heavy and crowded with emotions that I feared it would collapse if I spoke even one more word.
"And Mia?" I whispered, my voice rough, raw in a way I hated.
My father did not even blink.
"She was nothing," he said. "A passing fascination. Stacy is your future."
I spun toward him, my blood boiling. "Stacy is your future."
"And tomorrow," he continued, ignoring the bite in my voice like it meant nothing, "you will drive your fiancée to Suncrest Academy. It'll make a good impression. For her. For the press. For the board."
My breath caught in my throat.
"You want me to drive Stacy to school?"
He nodded once. "In your car. At 6.30 sharp. The driver will be off duty. Make sure you look the part."
"She's not even enrolled yet," I muttered bitterly.
"She is now," my father replied. "Her transfer papers were signed this morning."
I did not speak. I could not. The room felt too small. The air too heavy. And all I could see was Mia, the way she looked at me like I wasn't just a name, a legacy, a headline. The way she once made me feel like I could choose my own life.
But that choice was being stripped from me piece by piece. And the final nail was the empty seat beside me tomorrow. A seat that would be occupied by the wrong girl.
The entire campus seemed to hold its breath the moment my sleek black car rolled past the iron gates of Suncrest Academy.
Because Liam Alcaraz was back. And now, I was engaged. I was not even twenty. I had not even graduated. But my life had already been decided.
I sat stiffly behind the wheel, jaw clenched so tight it ached. My eyes stayed on the road, but my hands trembled slightly against the steering wheel. I did not want to be here like this. Not after everything. Not after what my father did.
I hated his sudden announcements. I hated the smug way he smiled as he introduced Stacy Montemator as the future Mrs. Alcaraz to the world.
I hated the way my mother clapped while the cameras flashed, like she was proud of the lie being built around me.nAnd worst of all, I hated that no one cared about the quiet girl with eyes like storms.
The girl who used to wait for me after class. The girl who made my world feel real. I did not even get to tell her beforehand. I did not get to explain. My father made sure of that.
He took my phone. Threatened to pull every privilege.
Frozen cards. Locked accounts. Controlled schedules. Controlled everything. Until I had no choice but to obey, and to stand beside Stacy like she was not a stranger. Like my heart was not breaking.
And that morning, he had given me one final order.
"You will go to school with Stacy," he said in that cold tone that never allowed argument. "Drive her there yourself. Make it look normal. You have responsibilities now, Liam. Start acting like it."
Responsibilities.
It was a heavy word for someone barely old enough to breathe without permission.
I pulled into my usual spot and cut the engine. For a moment, I did not move. My chest felt tight, my vision slightly blurred.
I did not want to step out. I did not want to see the way people would look at me. I did not want to face her.
Not if she looked at me like I was a stranger.
Not if she did not look at me at all.
Then Stacy tapped my arm with her polished nails. "Can you open the door for me?" she asked sweetly, her voice coated in confidence, the kind girls like her wore like perfume.
I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and got out of the car, circling around.
Gasps, whispers, and excited squeals exploded like wildfire. Phones lifted in unison. Some students snapped photos immediately. Others fixed their hair, hoping to catch even a passing glance.
And the moment I opened the door for her, the crowd reacted like she was royalty.
They screamed and cheered for her. Stacy stepped out of the car like this world had been built for her, smiling and waving while girls fell for her perfect curls, her designer heels, her effortless confidence.
I barely noticed anything around us. Because my eyes were already searching for Mia.
And then I saw her just for a second. She stood near the east wing, clutching her books tightly against her chest. Her face was calm and unreadable. But I knew her. I knew every nuance of her silence, every emotion she tried to bury.
She saw me. I was sure of it. But she did not stop. She simply turned her head and walked away, her pace steady, unbothered, like I was nothing more than a passing shadow.
Like those stolen moments in the library never happened. Like her laughter in my arms had never been real. Like I was nothing to her, not even a memory worth keeping.
And in that moment, surrounded by people who thought they knew me, under the weight of a thousand expectations, I had never felt more hollow.
For the first time in my privileged, polished life, I wished I were someone else. Because being Liam Alcaraz meant being everything the world admired.
And losing the one girl who once saw beyond it all.
And now, she did not even look back.