Ruined By The Two

Calla’s POV

"Put that box in the hallway," I said, pointing.

The mover looked at me, then at the giant staircase behind us. “You sure?”

“Yes,” I muttered. “I’ll move it later.”

He gave me a shrug and dropped the box beside my feet. I hated the sound. Everything in that box still smelled like my mom.

Behind me, the door creaked open again. More footsteps. Another box.

I looked up.

The Volkov estate was too big. Too quiet. Too cold.

I hated it already.

"You didn’t have to send people,” I said flatly.

He stood at the top of the stairs. Dark suit. Cold eyes. Same man from the wedding photos. Damien Volkov. My stepfather.

He didn’t come down. Didn’t open his arms. Just said, “You should’ve come sooner.”

“My mother just died.”

“She made poor choices.”

I blinked. “Wow. And you’re still as warm as a freezer.”

Damien didn’t reply. He just turned and walked away.

A new voice came from the side. “Well, well. Look who’s home.”

I turned fast.

Jace. My stepbrother.

Leaning against the wall, arms crossed. One leg bent. Messy hair. Sharp jaw. The same smug face I remembered from pictures. But taller now. Meaner.

“Didn’t think he’d actually make you come,” he said.

“I didn’t come for him.”

He smirked. “Charity case looks different in black.”

I rolled my eyes. “Still a dick, I see.”

Jace chuckled. “Still got a mouth on you, princess.”

“Still got a punch waiting for you.”

He walked toward me, slow. “Try it. I wanna see if you’re still weak.”

“Touch me and I’ll break your fingers.”

He grinned wider. “I like you better in person.”

I shoved past him, ignoring the heat in my neck.

This was hell. I already knew.

One of the maids came over. She was pale, nervous.

“This way, miss.”

I followed her up the stairs. The movers didn’t come. I had to carry one box myself.

The hallway was long. Too long. Too quiet. Everything smelled of leather, glass, and cologne.

The maid opened a heavy wooden door.

“This is your room.”

I stepped inside.

The windows were there, but they were locked shut. The curtains were thick and stiff. A red camera blinked slowly in the corner.

“What’s with the camera?” I asked.

“Security,” she said quickly. “For your protection.”

“Right.”

I dropped the box on the bed and faced her.

“Why is it so cold in here?”

“It’s the master’s order. All guest rooms are kept locked and cooled.”

“Guest?” I raised an eyebrow. “I live here now.”

She gave a tight smile. “Dinner is at seven.”

Then she rushed out.

I sat down slowly, staring at the walls.

I hated it here.

Later that evening, I stepped into the dining room.

Damien. And Jace.

Jace didn’t stand when I walked in. Just stared at my dress.

“Sit,” Damien said.

“Good to see you too,” I mumbled.

I sat across from them, far down the table.

A maid placed soup