Mia's hands trembled under the table. She clenched them into fists, nails biting into her palms, grounding herself against the storm inside her. Because she knew—God, she knew—her words weren't the whole truth.
Because the worst part?
Even now, even after everything he had done to her, after every scar he'd left behind—her heart still tripped when he looked at her. She still burned for him.
And Liam knew it. Damn him, he was right.
But she couldn't let him win. Not again.
Her voice dropped, brittle and raw, as she finished, "I don't regret loving you, Liam. But I regret letting you think you could destroy me. That girl you toyed with? She doesn't exist anymore. And whatever this is..." Her chin lifted, though her eyes gleamed with unshed tears. "You'll never have me again. Not in a million years."
The lie lodged in her throat, threatening to choke her. Because deep down, her pulse was betraying her—thundering with every beat that screamed she still wanted him.
And across the table, Liam sat motionless, gutted. For the first time in years, he looked less like the untouchable CEO and more like the boy who had once been hers—the boy who had thrown her away.
And in that moment, Liam Alcaraz knew he wasn't just an idiot.
He was a man who might have lost the only girl who had ever truly loved him.
For the first time in years, Liam had no words. Her fury wasn't loud; it was quiet, trembling, raw—and that was what destroyed him.
God, Mia. If only you knew.
He forced himself to sit still, his jaw locked, his expression unreadable. Because if he let himself break now—if he let the truth slip—it wouldn't just shatter her, it would ruin everything.
She thought he'd made her into a joke. But the real joke, the cruelest irony, was that he had destroyed himself to protect her.
He remembered it like it was yesterday. The scandal. Her mother's husband—the stepfather he'd never met—caught embezzling money from his father's company. The kind of crime that left no one untouched. If the truth had come out, Mia's mother would've lost everything—her marriage, her home, her children's security.
And Liam had known. He had seen it in Mia's eyes, even when she pretended she didn't care—that despite her mother abandoning her, despite her siblings leaving her behind—she still loved them. She still wanted them to live comfortably, to be safe, to have a roof over their heads. It gave her a twisted kind of peace knowing they were cared for, even if she wasn't.
If she had found out that her stepfather was tied to the downfall of the Alcaraz company, it would've shattered her completely. Her heart wouldn't survive knowing her mother and siblings had lost everything.
And his father had known exactly how to use that against him.
"You think you can keep her, after this? If you don't let her go, I'll make her suffer. I'll strip her scholarship, blacken her name, make sure no school accepts her. She'll lose her future—and her mother and siblings will lose theirs. She'll end up with nothing, Liam. Not even her pride."
Liam had begged. Pleaded. But his father's threat was real—he'd seen him destroy better men for less.
So he had made the trade. His pride. His heart. His Mia.
He had cut her down, cold and brutal, because if he didn't, she wouldn't just lose her family's roof—she'd lose her chance at college, her one dream, her one way out. And Liam couldn't take that away from her.
He could take her hate. He could take being the villain in her story. What he couldn't take was the thought of her carrying that truth—that her family's fragile luxury had been built on corruption, and that he had bartered their love to keep it intact.
Liam's fists curled under the table, his knuckles aching. His lips parted, desperate to tell her everything, to beg her to see the truth. But then he caught her eyes again—sharp, glistening, broken—and he shut his mouth.
No. He couldn't do that to her. He couldn't rip away her illusions, couldn't pile the sins of her mother's husband onto her shoulders, couldn't let her think she was the reason her family fell.
So he gave her nothing. Just silence. Just the mask she'd always despised.
And in that silence, Mia's tears finally broke free.
Liam swallowed hard, his chest burning, his heart tearing itself apart with every beat.
He had been many things in his life—ruthless, ambitious, reckless. But in this moment, staring at the only woman he had ever loved, he felt the one thing he swore he'd never be.
A coward.
There is nothing to say to her that would make him less a jerk, and all he need to do is to make sure she will be his in the end.
He would fight for her—fight to make her fall in love with him again. Not with power, not with control, but with the charm he knew she could never quite ignore. It had worked once, and somewhere deep down, he was certain it was still there, hidden beneath all the anger she hurled at him.
The real obstacle wasn't indifference—it was her hatred. The walls she'd built brick by brick after what he'd done to her. And yet, even that didn't scare him. If anything, it pulled him closer. Because hate, he realized, still meant she cared. If she truly felt nothing, she would've walked away long ago.
And Mia never walked away.
No matter how much venom she spit, no matter how sharp her glares or how cutting her words, she always came back—crossing paths with him again and again as though fate refused to untangle them.
He hated himself for loving that about her. Loved how she faced him without flinching now, no longer the girl who trembled under his stare but the woman who dared to look him in the eye and tell him she hated him. Brave. Beautiful. Unyielding.
God, he admired her for that.
But beneath the hunger, beneath the need to win her back, there was something more raw, more dangerous. He wanted to take care of her. To protect her. To be the man she could lean on, the one who would make sure no one—not even himself—could ever hurt her again.
The problem? He had no idea how to do it. Not when every attempt he made to get close left her glaring daggers at him. Not when every word from his lips seemed to ignite her fury instead of softening it.
She thought she hated him. And maybe she did. But he could live with her hate. What he couldn't live with was losing the fire in her eyes—the fire that had once burned for him alone.
So he clenched his jaw, swallowed his pride, and silently vowed: whatever it took, however long it took, he would fight for her.
Even if she screamed at him.
Even if she glared at him.
Even if she swore she'd never love him again.
Because Liam Alcaraz knew the truth—beneath her fury, beneath her walls, Mia Villaruiz was still his.
And this time, he wasn't going to let her slip away.
Mia told herself she hated him. Over and over, like a prayer. Like armor.
And yet, every time she looked at him, she felt the lie trembling inside her chest.
Because hate wasn't supposed to feel like this—like fire crawling under her skin whenever his eyes pinned her. Hate wasn't supposed to make her pulse race when his voice dropped low, curling around her like smoke, or make her body remember the way it used to fit against his with dangerous ease.
No. Hate should be clean. Sharp. Simple.
But nothing about Liam Alcaraz was simple. Not then. Not now. Not ever.
She wanted to scream at him, to demand he stop looking at her as though she was the only woman in the world. She wanted to tell him his charm no longer worked, that she was immune to his games. But then he'd smirk—slow, dangerous, devastating—and her carefully built walls would tremble just enough to terrify her.
God, she hated him for that.
And God, she hated herself more—for the way her heart still reacted, traitorous and weak, as if nothing had changed.
He had destroyed her once. Crushed her so thoroughly she wasn't sure she would ever breathe again. And yet here she was, trembling under his gaze, clenching her fists under the table just to stop them from reaching out, from betraying her.
She should walk away. She should burn every bridge, slam every door, make sure he never had the chance to ruin her twice.
But instead... she stayed.
Because the cruelest truth of all was this: no matter how deep the scars he left, a part of her still longed for him. Still ached to believe he wasn't the same boy who broke her heart. Still wanted—just once—to see if the fire between them could burn without consuming her whole.
And that was what scared her most.
Not his persistence. Not his charm. Not his relentless pursuit.
But the terrifying possibility that if Liam Alcaraz truly decided to fight for her...
She might not have the strength to resist him.
When evening came, Mia found herself in the kitchen, staring at empty cupboards. "There's nothing here to cook," she muttered, half to herself.
Liam leaned against the counter, his arms crossed, watching her struggle. "Then we'll eat in town."
She frowned. "We don't have to—"
But he was already grabbing his keys, that irritating certainty in his stride. "Come on."
The town was small, quaint, alive with warm lights strung between buildings. Children ran barefoot across cobbled streets, the air filled with laughter and the smell of grilled food. It was nothing like the glittering restaurants Liam was used to. And yet—he found himself smiling. Not at the town. At her.
Mia's eyes widened with wonder as they strolled. She slowed to look at flowers spilling from a window box, at the old church bell chiming in the distance. She tried to hide her awe, but it lit her face anyway, softening every line until Liam couldn't look away.
They ducked into a family-owned restaurant with wooden tables and faded photographs on the walls. The owner greeted them warmly, ushering them toward a corner seat.
"You two look perfect together," she said with a wink. "A beautiful couple."
Mia choked on her breath, her cheeks flaming. "We're not—"
But Liam only smirked, sliding into the chair across from her as if he'd heard exactly what he wanted. The owner bustled away before Mia could protest, leaving her seething and red-faced while Liam leaned back casually, his gaze never leaving hers.
The food came, simple but delicious. They ate in silence, though Mia's heart was loud in her chest. Liam had never looked more out of place—and yet, impossibly, he belonged here. She hated how easy it felt, sitting across from him, laughing softly when he teased her about spilling sauce, like they really were a couple. Like nothing had ever broken them.