Kian's POV
The house still didn't feel real.
Not because it was large.
Not because it was expensive.
I had lived a wealthy life before, the kind that was loud and flashed itself around to make sure everyone noticed.
This wasn't that. This was something different, something much heavier.
But because everything here felt like it was waiting for me.
Like I had walked into a place that already knew my name before I even arrived.
Evan led me through a long corridor lined with glass panels and soft lighting.
No unnecessary decoration. No clutter. No family photos or colorful rugs to break up the empty space.
Everything screamed control.
That was the word for him.
Control.
Every step he took was precise.
Every turn he made felt like it had been planned out days in advance.
He didn't look back to see if I was following him, because he already knew I didn't have any other choice.
"This is your room," he said finally, stopping in front of a heavy wooden door.
I hesitated, my hand hovering just an inch away from the handle. The wood felt cold, even without touching it.
"Mine?" I asked, the word tasting strange in my mouth.
"Yes."
I pushed the door open.
Silence followed me inside. It was a thick, heavy kind of silence that settled over my shoulders the moment I crossed the threshold.
The room was… too perfect.
It looked like something out of a magazine, or a showroom where no real person actually lived.
There was a large bed already made with crisp, dark sheets without a single wrinkle.
A study desk stood in the corner, perfectly clean, facing the wide window that looked out into the gray afternoon.
There was a tall shelf against the wall that looked like it was waiting for books I hadn't even bought yet.
Empty spaces waiting to be filled, but only with things that fit this house.
My bags were already there. They sat right by the foot of the bed, looking small and beaten up against the expensive hardwood floor.
I turned slowly to face him.
"My things…"
"They arrived earlier," Evan said casually. He didn't step inside.
He just stood in the doorway, framing the exit, keeping his posture perfectly straight. "Your old apartment wasn't exactly safe."
I frowned, a sudden spark of anger breaking through the numbness in my chest. "You went through my apartment?"
"I moved your things."
"That's still breaking and entering with extra steps," I said, crossing my arms. I wanted him to blink.
I wanted him to show some kind of guilt, or at least acknowledge that he had crossed a line.
He ignored that completely. My anger didn't even register on his face. It was like throwing a pebble at a brick wall.
"Get settled," Evan said, his voice flat and even. "Dinner is in an hour."
And just like that, he turned on his heel and left.
His footsteps faded down the long hall, perfectly steady, until the house was completely quiet again. He didn't slam the door, but it felt closed all the same.
Leaving me alone in a room that somehow felt less like mine and more like something I had been placed inside. A cage with nice lighting and an expensive desk.
Like a piece on a board.
And Evan Leigh was the one playing.