Spoiled By My Overprotective Brothers

The city’s heartbeat was relentless, a rhythm of horns, voices, and rushing feet. For Liana, every step on the crowded sidewalk felt like a declaration: I am free.

The suitcase she pulled behind her was light—most of her belongings had been left behind in the Hale mansion. Jewelry, gowns, the countless trappings of wealth—all of it had been meaningless, bought to cage her rather than to honor her. The only things she carried now were her documents, a few cherished books, and the determination not to look back.

She had rented a modest two-bedroom apartment on the twenty-first floor of a downtown complex. It wasn’t glamorous, but when she stepped inside and locked the door, the silence felt hers alone. She pressed her back to the door, closing her eyes. For the first time in years, she wasn’t being watched, judged, or dismissed.

No more Miranda’s mocking laughter.

No more Victor’s cold indifference.

No more suffocating pretense of being the “perfect wife.”

Her phone buzzed. It was a text from her lawyer, Sonia:

Victor hasn’t signed. His team is pushing for negotiation. He’s furious. Wants to meet.

Liana’s jaw tightened. Of course, he would resist. Control was Victor Hale’s religion; he wouldn’t surrender it willingly. But this time, she had no intention of bowing.

She typed back quickly:

Set the date. I’ll be there.

>>>>>>

Two days later, the storm broke.

The courtroom wasn’t yet in session—it was only a preliminary meeting in a conference chamber between both parties. But the atmosphere was electric, every lawyer’s briefcase like a weapon drawn.

Victor arrived in a tailored navy suit, radiating arrogance. Miranda clung to his arm, dressed as though she was walking a red carpet rather than entering a legal battlefield. She smirked openly when she saw Liana, her voice pitched sweet and mocking.

“Oh, darling. You look… plain. Freedom doesn’t come with a stylist, does it?”

Liana ignored her and took her seat. She had chosen a simple black dress, her hair neatly tied back. No frills, no distractions. She wanted her strength, not her wardrobe, to do the talking.

Victor leaned back in his chair across from her, lips twisting. “Liana, you’re embarrassing yourself. This circus will end when you drop the papers. I’ll give you a generous settlement. Just sign the NDA and walk away quietly.”

Her spine straightened. “No.”

Victor’s eyes darkened. “You think you can win against me? You’re naive.”

The door opened before she could answer. A man entered, tall and composed, dressed in a charcoal suit that exuded quiet authority. His presence shifted the entire room, and even the lawyers paused mid-whisper. He carried no briefcase—just a folder tucked beneath his arm.

He walked straight to Liana’s side and placed the folder before her. “Ms. Liana, I’ll be representing you from this point forward.”

She blinked. “But—Sonia—”

“I’ve already spoken with her. She agreed to the transfer.” His tone was calm, but his eyes… they were sharp as cut glass, scanning the room with a quiet intensity that made Victor shift in his seat.

Victor’s brows snapped together. “And who the hell are you?”

The man met his gaze with the calm ferocity of a predator. “Cassian Carver. Senior partner, Carver & Associates. And your attempts to intimidate my client will fail.”

A murmur rippled through the room. Carver & Associates wasn’t just a law firm—it was the law firm, known for taking down conglomerates twice Victor’s size.

Victor’s arrogance faltered for the briefest second before he sneered. “So what? Lawyers can be bought. She can’t afford you forever. Then she’ll crawl back.”

Cassian didn’t so much as blink. He slid the folder across the table toward Victor. “You might want to read this before underestimating her.”

Victor flipped it open, scanning the documents. His face paled. These weren’t simple divorce papers. They were financial records—proof that Liana’s dowry had been directly invested into Hale Corporation, proof that without her money, Victor’s empire wouldn’t exist.

Cassian’s voice cut through the silence. “As per contractual law, my client is entitled not only to her full dowry but also to any profits accrued from its use. By our calculations, that accounts for forty-seven percent of Hale Corporation’s net worth over the last three years. Shall I continue?”

Victor slammed the folder shut. “This is—this is outrageous!”

Miranda’s face twisted. “You can’t do this! You’re nobody! She’s nobody!”

Cassian turned his gaze to her, a faint trace of disdain flickering across his features. “If she’s nobody, why are you so afraid?”

Miranda’s cheeks flushed crimson.

Victor shoved back his chair, standing abruptly. “I won’t be blackmailed. You’ll regret this, Liana. Both of you.”

Cassian rose as well, but his calm was unshaken. “No, Mr. Hale. The only one who’ll regret this is you. The court date is set. If you refuse to settle, we’ll proceed publicly. I’m sure the shareholders will be fascinated to learn how much of their empire belongs to my client.”

Victor’s fists clenched, but for once, he had no immediate comeback. He stormed out, Miranda scrambling after him, her heels clattering angrily on the marble floor.

The room emptied, leaving only Liana and Cassian.

She exhaled slowly, tension draining from her shoulders. “You didn’t have to—”

“Yes, I did,” Cassian interrupted, his tone softer now. His gaze lingered on her, steady, almost… protective. “You shouldn’t face this alone.”

Something about the way he said it made her chest tighten.

“Why?” she asked, almost whispering.

Cassian’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker—something raw, restrained—in his eyes. “Let’s just say… protecting you is more than a duty.”

Her breath caught, but before she could press further, he gathered the folder and adjusted his cufflinks. “I’ll keep you updated on the case. Don’t worry, Ms. Liana. He won’t win.”

And then he left, his presence lingering in the room long after his footsteps faded.

>>>>>>

That night, in her modest apartment, Liana sat by the window staring at the city lights. Her phone buzzed with messages—Victor’s threats, Miranda’s insults, media speculation. She silenced them all.

But Cassian’s words replayed in her mind. Protecting you is more than a duty.

Her heart warred with itself. She wanted to believe she was strong enough alone. Yet for the first time, she wondered if maybe—just maybe—she wasn’t as alone as she thought.

Far across the city, in a private penthouse, Cassian placed a call.

“She’s holding up,” he reported.

A deep voice answered, calm and commanding: “Good. Keep her safe until we move.”

And then another, warmer but edged with steel: “If Victor pushes harder, we’ll push back harder. She’s ours to protect. She’s finally ready.”

Cassian closed his eyes briefly. “She doesn’t know yet.”

“She will,” the commanding voice said. “Soon. But for now… let her stand. She’s earned it.”