An Illicit Obsession (Mila and Killian) novel Chapter 1

“Do as your mother says.”

Stepmother, you mean, I wanted to say.

Instead, I stood silently, my lips pressed into a thin line, as my father informed me that I had to go on this so-called weekend trip they had planned with his friend. I know why exactly this trip was planned and I would rather stay away from it.

The plan is to go on a weekend getaway in the vacation house of My father’s dangerous, mafia friend. Killian Knight. If you’re smart, you stay out of his way. If you’re wise, you become his friend—if you can manage it, that is. I’ve never met him, only seen photos, but I know enough. And what I know is enough for me to decide that he is too dangerous and too close to my father for comfort. He kills people for a living, and I’ve decided I’d rather live my life without the constant threat of being snuffed out in my sleep. Besides, I can’t go on this little family-friendly trip. I’ll never have an opportunity like this again: three days alone, unsupervised. There are things I need to do and people to expose.

“But Father…”

“No buts!” I refrained from rolling my eyes.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Adeline—my dearest stepmother—wearing a smug expression. She tried her best to suppress it in front of my father. She wants this, she wants to secure her son's position as the next chairperson of Anderson Cooperate Empire and also doesn't let anyone know that she is stealing my rights.

The look on my father’s face told me it was pointless to argue.

I am so not in the mood to play Happy Family charade.

“Understood,” I said, trying my best not to roll my eyes or give a sigh. I think I partially lost in the end.

“Don’t look like I’ve just killed your cat. This is a family vacation, and Mr. Knight and his wife have so graciously chosen to host us. I don’t want anyone backing out. We’ll enjoy it like a family,” he said, his rough voice sounding like he had something stuck in his throat.

“Yes, my dear, we most certainly will,” Adeline added, placing her hand over his in what seemed like a loving gesture. My father smiled at her sweetly. I held back my gag reflex.

“I’ll excuse myself, Father.”

He nodded without looking at me, and I slowly walked out of the study.

The devil’s spawn—my stepbrother—was leaning against the wall, waiting with a smirk on his face. I was sure he was there to gloat over my failed attempt to escape this hell trip.

“Told you it’d never work. Father holds the Knights in high regard, and Mr. Knight invited the whole family, little sis,” he sneered.

“It’s bold of you to assume I consider you family,” I shot back.

“Be careful, sister. If Father hears you talking like that…” He put a hand to his chest in mock injury, then his expression darkened as he cocked his head.

“You’ll be out of here.”

I gave him no response to his obvious threat. It was a threat that could very well come true any of these days considering my 21st birthday day is exactly one month away. It will be my end or I will be free from this prison I am forced to call home.

I slipped away down the hallway, past the lobby, and toward the giant staircase leading to the South Wing of the mansion. This is the Andersons’ ancestral house. My father, Tommen Anderson, is the third-generation Chairman of Anderson Group Of Companies, a multinational company worth over $3 trillion. As his firstborn, I am technically the heir to this corporate empire. But if my stepmother’s scheming works, my stepbrother might end up taking over the company.

I remember it quite clearly when this legacy became a shackle to me. “Only an Anderson will sit on this chair. You must promise me, Mila,” my grandfather said when he first made me sit on the chairman’s chair behind the large, old mahogany desk at Anderson Tech’s headquarters. I was ten years old and had only recently learned that I was an Anderson. I still remember him kneeling in front of me, looking me in the eye as I sat in the highest chair at Anderson Tech. His light sea green eyes—Anderson's eyes, the same eyes I see in the mirror every day— were cold, just like my father.

“You are the only valid candidate,” I didn't know what to think until it became clear that I had just transferred from an iron cage - my orphanage to a golden one - the Anderson Mansion. He was nothing but a jailer.

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