Page 34 of Because I Liked A Boy (Because I Liked A Boy Trilogy #1)

It’s been a fucking month since I let her walk out of my life.

A month since Isabella Ashbourne—my princess turned her back on me and left me standing in the wreckage.

And every god damn day since, I’ve been watching her. From the shadows. From the sidelines. Online.

Every article. Every headline. Every glossy photograph of her stepping out of court, chin high, shoulders squared, pretending she doesn’t bleed.

Every single one I’ve saved, read twice, sometimes three times, searching her eyes for the girl I knew the one who kissed me like I was her whole universe, who laughed with her head tipped back when I teased her, who let herself be soft when no one else was looking.

But she’s not there anymore.

What I see now is polished steel. A weapon.

She’s dismantling her father’s empire piece by piece, calculated, brilliant, merciless. Board members arrested. Court documents leaked. Shares gutted overnight. She’s turning his empire into ash and she’s doing it all without me.

She’s strong I’ve always known that. But her eyes… Christ, her eyes. They’re colder now. Hollow. Like she carved out everything that used to make her warm just to survive.

And I hate it.

Because I know her better than anyone. I know what it cost her to stand there looking untouchable. I know what it cost her to leave me.

And I know she’s burning herself alive.

The worst part? I’m the one who lit the match.

I told myself I was giving her space. Told myself she’d come back when she was ready. But every day she doesn’t, I feel the truth claw deeper into my chest: I let her believe she had to fight this alone.

And she doesn’t.

She never did.

But she thinks she does because everyone else in her life has failed her. Including me. Especially me.

Some nights, I still wake up with her name on my lips. I still roll over, reaching for a body that isn’t there, for the soft gasp she made when I kissed just beneath her jaw, for the warmth of her fingers tracing lazy circles against my chest when she thought I was asleep.

I miss her.

Not just the sex. Not just the touch. Her.

The sound of her laugh when she dropped her guard. The spark in her eyes when she got fired up. The way she called me an idiot with a grin tugging at her lips.

She was mine. She still is.

And I’m losing my fucking mind watching the world see nothing but a weapon while I remember the girl beneath it.

But what scares me most isn’t losing her. It’s that her father hasn’t lost yet.

I know him. I know the kind of man he is—the kind who doesn’t just cut out weakness, he hunts it. The kind who smiles in photographs while bleeding people dry behind closed doors.

The more Isabella pulls, the more unstable he gets.

And every move she makes paints a bigger target on her back.

Last time she trusted family, it got Nathan killed.

Last time she trusted someone else, it got her heart broken.

And the crashes God, the crashes. She hasn’t said it, but I know she carries them like brands across her skin. Once with Nathan. And now again. Different nights. Same monster pulling the strings.

And she blames herself.

But I know the truth. I’ve seen the patterns. That night wasn’t an accident. Neither was the last. And if her father had anything to do with them, he’ll try again. He’s already lost control of her once. He won’t let it happen twice.

I slam my fist into the desk hard enough to rattle the empty beer bottles scattered there. My phone screen glares back at me, the latest headline still bright at the top.

“Ashbourne Heiress Strikes Again: Another Board Member Arrested in Scandal.”

I should be proud. I should be fucking cheering her on. Instead, all I feel is dread.

Because she’s not just dismantling a company. She’s walking into a war zone, one where the man on the other side doesn’t play fair.

And no one not the press, not her allies, not even Penny knows how deep his rot runs.

But I do.

Because I was part of it.

And I’ll burn every last thread of it before I let him use it to destroy her.

I shove away from the desk, pacing like a caged animal, my jaw locked so tight it hurts. On the corner, the folder I’ve been building for weeks waits thick with names, dates, accounts, evidence. The trail she hasn’t followed yet. The one that leads straight to the truth.

My keys glint beside it. My jacket’s already on the back of the chair.

I’ve been telling myself to wait. To hold back. To let her lead. But waiting is just another way of watching her bleed from a distance.

And I can’t do it anymore.

Because love like this doesn’t die. It waits.

Through silence. Through fury. Through the wreckage.

And when the moment comes? It fights.

I grab the folder. The jacket. The keys.

I’m done hiding. I’m done waiting.

I’m coming for you, princess.

And this time, I’m not leaving your side.