Chapter 56 The malice
Chapter 56: The Masquerade of Malice (Liam’s POV)
The bass from the speakers downstairs was vibrating through the floorboards of my room, a constant, thumping reminder that the Vance estate was no longer a home—it was a stage. Tonight was the "Victory Gala" for the hockey team’s undefeated streak. I should have been downstairs, basking in the glory of being the top scorer in the state, but I was staring at my reflection in the mirror, adjusting my tie with fingers that felt like lead.
"Look at you," Jax said, lounging on my bed with a beer in his hand. "The King of Northview. You look like you’re heading to a funeral, not your own party."
"Just not in the mood, Jax," I muttered.
"Don't tell me you’re still thinking about the girl downstairs," Jax said, his voice hardening. "She’s probably in the kitchen right now, counting the silver. Forget her. Tonight is about us. You, me, and the trophy."
"I'm not thinking about her," I lied.
I headed downstairs, and the heat of the party hit me like a wall. The foyer was packed with people from school, everyone dressed in expensive silk and designer labels. In the center of the room, Chloe was waiting, looking radiant in a dress that cost more than most people’s cars. She draped herself over my arm the moment I reached the bottom step.
"There he is," she whispered, kissing my cheek. "The man of the hour. Ready to celebrate?"
"Sure," I said, my eyes scanning the room.
I wasn't looking for scouts or coaches. I was looking for a limp. I was looking for a cane.
"Liam! Over here!" Coach Miller called out from the drink station.
I spent the next hour talking about my puck-handling skills and the power-play strategy that had won us the game against Eastside. I spoke the language of hockey—slap shots, blue lines, and breakaways—but my heart wasn't in it. Every time a server walked past with a tray of appetizers, I looked for her.
Then I saw her.
Elena was coming out of the kitchen, carrying a fresh tray of champagne flutes. She wasn't wearing her school uniform. She was in a plain black dress, her hair pulled back in a tight, professional bun. She looked smaller, more fragile, surrounded by the loud, drunken teenagers who barely acknowledged her existence.
"Hey, Tutor!" Jax shouted from across the room. The music didn't drown out his voice. "Over here! We’re thirsty!"
Elena froze. I saw her grip the tray tighter, her knuckles turning white. She started walking toward our group, her cane clicking rhythmically against the marble floor. It was a sound that used to make me smile; now it felt like a countdown.
"Careful," Chloe giggled as Elena approached. "Don't want to spill that on my dress. It’s vintage."
Elena reached us and held out the tray. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, avoiding mine.
"Champagne, sir?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the music.
"Sir?" Jax laughed, grabbing a glass. "I like that. See, Liam? She finally learned her place. It only took a leaked recording to teach her some manners."
"Shut up, Jax," I said, but I didn't say it with any heat. I reached out and took a glass, my fingers intentionally brushing against hers. She flinched as if I had burned her.
"Is there a problem, Elena?" I asked, my voice cold and sharp. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost."
"No, Liam," she said, finally looking up. Her eyes were swimming with tears she refused to let fall. "I’m just doing my job. Is there anything else you need?"
"Actually, yes," Chloe said, stepping forward. She pointed to a puddle of spilled soda near my feet. "Someone dropped their drink. Clean it up. It’s a tripping hazard."
"Chloe, there are other staff for that," I said, a small flicker of the old Liam sparking in my chest.
"But she’s right here," Chloe countered, her eyes flashing with malice. "And she’s so good at being humble now, aren't you, Elena?"
Elena looked at the puddle, then at me. She was waiting for me to stop it. She was waiting for the boy who kissed her in the library to stand up and tell Chloe to go to hell. I looked at her, and all I could hear was that recording. “He’s so easy to manipulate.”
"You heard her," I said, my voice like ice. "Clean it up."
The silence that followed was deafening. Even Jax looked a little surprised by the cruelty in my tone. Elena didn't argue. She set the tray on a nearby table, knelt down on her good knee, and started wiping the floor with a cloth she pulled from her pocket.
The King of Northview stood over the scholarship girl, watching her crawl on the floor of his mansion. It should have felt like a victory. It felt like ash in my mouth.
"That’s better," Chloe said, satisfied. "Now, come on, Liam. Let’s go to the dance floor."
She led me away, but I looked back over my shoulder. Elena was standing up, leaning heavily on her cane, her face a mask of pure, agonizing pain. Maya was suddenly there, grabbing the tray from her, her eyes screaming murder at me from across the room.
An hour later, the party had spilled out onto the patio. I was standing near the edge of the woods, trying to get a breath of fresh air.
"You're a coward, Liam Vance."
I turned around. Elena was standing there, tucked into the shadows of the stone pillars. The party lights were casting long, distorted shadows behind her.
"I told you not to speak to me unless it was about school," I said.
"I don't care about your rules anymore," she said, her voice shaking with rage. "You want to treat me like a servant? Fine. I’ll scrub your floors and serve your friends. But don't you dare act like you're the victim here. You chose to believe a lie because it was easier than standing up to your father and your friends."
"I heard the tape, Elena!" I stepped toward her, my hands clenched into fists. "Your voice. Your words. You called me a puppet!"
"It was an edit!" she shouted. "How can you be so brilliant on the ice, seeing every move three steps ahead, but so blind in real life? Chloe hates me. Jax hates me. They’ve been trying to get rid of me since I arrived. Why can't you see that?"
"Because I saw how you looked at the scholarship papers!" I countered. "I saw how much you needed this. You were desperate, Elena. And desperate people do desperate things."
"I was desperate for a future!" she cried. "Not for your money! I loved you, Liam. I loved the boy who brought me sandwiches in the library. I loved the boy who told me he didn't care about the Vance name. But that boy is dead. You’ve turned into Marcus."
The comparison hit me harder than any check on the ice. I felt the heat rise in my face. "Don't you ever compare me to him."
"Why not?" she asked, stepping into the light. "You’re using your power to humiliate someone who can't fight back. You’re holding my mother’s life over my head to make yourself feel better. You aren't a king, Liam. You’re just a bully with a trophy."
She turned to walk away, her limp more pronounced than usual.
"Elena, wait," I said, my voice losing its edge.
"No," she said, without turning around. "Go back to your party. Go back to Chloe. She’s exactly what you deserve."
I watched her disappear into the kitchen entrance. The music was still thumping, the people were still laughing, but the air felt thin. I looked down at my hands. They were shaking.
Jax walked up, breathing heavily, smelling like expensive beer. "Hey, man! Coach wants to do a toast. Get inside!"
"In a minute, Jax."
"What's wrong with you?" Jax asked, peering into the shadows. "Was she out here again? I'm telling you, Liam, we need to get her out of this house for good. She's a distraction. She’s messing with your head right before the playoffs."
I looked at my best friend. I looked at the mansion. I looked at the life I was supposed to want.
"Yeah," I whispered. "A distraction."