Spoiled By My Overprotective Brothers

The rain came without warning.

Liana sat by her apartment window, her chin resting on her palm as fat droplets chased each other down the glass. The storm outside mirrored the turbulence in her chest.

Cassian Carver’s words still echoed in her mind: “Protecting you is more than a duty.”

But why? She had never met him before. She couldn’t fathom why one of the country’s top lawyers would take her case so personally, as though her pain were his own. And yet, every glance of his sharp eyes had carried the weight of something unsaid, something buried.

Her phone buzzed again, this time not with Victor’s fury but with a new number. The message was short and precise:

Ms. Liana, I request your presence at my office at Carver Global Holdings tomorrow morning at nine. Do not be late. — L.C.

She frowned, her lips pressing together. L.C.?

She didn’t recognize the initials, but there was something in the tone—authoritative, commanding, like the sender was used to obedience. For a brief second, she considered ignoring it. After all, she owed nothing to anyone anymore.

But something deep inside whispered that she couldn’t afford to ignore this.

>>>>>>>

The following morning, she found herself standing before one of the tallest skyscrapers in the financial district. The polished steel gleamed like a sword piercing the sky, its nameplate reading in bold letters:

CARVER GLOBAL HOLDINGS.

Her steps faltered. Carver.

Her heartbeat quickened as she stepped through the revolving doors into a lobby of glass and marble, where businessmen and women hurried past like soldiers marching into battle. A receptionist, perfectly composed, glanced up at her.

“Ms. Liana?”

“Yes.”

“You’re expected. Twenty-fifth floor. Executive office.”

The elevator ride was silent except for the rush of her own pulse. The higher the numbers climbed, the heavier her chest felt. When the doors finally slid open, she was greeted by silence—thick, commanding silence.

The floor was minimalist, decorated with sleek black wood, chrome, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. At the end of the hallway stood a set of double doors, half-open.

“Come in.”

The voice was deep, steady, and absolute.

Liana stepped inside.

Behind a desk of dark oak sat a man whose presence filled the room more than any expensive furniture could. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his tailored suit fitting like armor. His black hair was slicked back, his jawline sharp, his eyes—dark, cold, and unyielding—lifted from a document to study her.

Leo Carver.

Even Liana, who knew little of the corporate world, recognized the name. He was the tycoon whose empire stretched across industries—shipping, real estate, energy, finance. Ruthless. Untouchable. A man whispered about in boardrooms, feared in courtrooms, envied in newspapers.

And he was looking at her as if she were not a stranger but something far more important.

“Sit.”

His tone left no room for refusal. Liana lowered herself into the leather chair across from him, her palms clammy against her knees.

“I don’t understand,” she began carefully. “Why am I here?”

Instead of answering, Leo reached into a folder and slid a stack of documents across the desk toward her. His movements were precise, efficient, like a man who wasted neither time nor words.

“These are share certificates,” he said. “Effective immediately, you own fifteen percent of Carver Global Holdings.”

Liana’s breath caught. She blinked, certain she’d misheard. “…What?”

Leo’s gaze didn’t waver. “Fifteen percent. That equates to roughly twenty billion dollars in assets. Consider it… your shield.”

She shook her head, stunned. “This—this must be a mistake. I don’t even know you. Why would you—”

“Because you’ll need it,” Leo cut her off, his voice like steel striking steel. “Victor Hale will not stop. He will use every resource he has to drag you down. The only way to face power that corrupt is with greater power. These shares make you untouchable.”

Her lips parted, but words refused to come. Twenty billion? A fortune beyond anything she could imagine. And it wasn’t a gift she could lightly refuse—this was a throne, a weapon, a lifeline.

Her hands trembled as she pushed the documents back toward him. “I can’t accept this. I don’t want to be someone else’s charity case.”

For the first time, Leo’s expression shifted. Not softened—he wasn’t a man who softened—but something flickered in his gaze. A warning, edged with something dangerously close to… protectiveness.

“This isn’t charity,” he said. “It’s justice. What Victor stole from you was more than money. He stole years of your life, your dignity, your freedom. If you think you can fight him with nothing but pride, you’ll lose. And I don’t intend to watch you lose.”

Liana’s throat tightened. “Why do you care? You don’t even know me.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy, suffocating. His eyes locked on hers, steady and unflinching, as if weighing how much truth he could allow her.

Finally, he spoke, low and deliberate. “You’ll understand soon enough.”

Her breath caught. That wasn’t an answer—it was a promise, or perhaps a warning.

Leo leaned back, tapping the desk once with his fingers. “The shares are already under your name. Whether you accept them or not, the world now knows you hold them. If Victor wants to come after you, he’ll find the Carvers standing in his way.”

Her heartbeat thundered. The Carvers. Again. Cassian Carver, her lawyer. Now Leo Carver, giving her shares worth billions. A family of titans moving around her as though she were at the center of a chessboard she didn’t even know existed.

“I don’t understand any of this,” she whispered.

“You don’t need to,” Leo replied, his tone final. “All you need to do is stand your ground. The rest—we’ll handle.”

Before she could protest, the door opened and a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped inside. His suit was impeccable, his presence commanding, though his expression carried a faint warmth.

“Leo,” he said, his voice smooth, charismatic. His eyes flicked toward Liana, lighting up with recognition. “So this is her.”

Leo’s expression didn’t change. “Dante. You’re early.”

Liana froze. Dante Carver. The face was unmistakable—she had seen it on billboards, in music videos, on screens watched by millions. The nation’s superstar, adored and worshiped by fans across the globe. And he was looking at her not like a fan would, not even like a stranger would—but like he already knew her.

Dante smiled faintly, stepping closer. “Early? Please. I’ve waited my whole life to meet her.”

Liana’s heart skipped. His whole life?

Leo shot him a warning glance, but Dante ignored it, pulling out the chair beside her and sitting down with casual grace.

“I’m Dante,” he said softly, his voice carrying that lyrical warmth that had made him famous. His gaze held hers, unwavering.

“And you, Liana, are my little sister.”