The Obedient Lie (The Crow Dynasty #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

EMILIA

At the Academy, we didn’t just know the rules.

We were the rules.

Wealth, sharpened like a weapon. Every girl here was born into a future someone else had already chosen. Every boy was bred to protect—or destroy—for his family’s name.

And I’d played my part perfectly . Because I wasn’t just like the rest of them.

I was Emilia Adams—twelfth-generation daughter of the Adams bloodline. One of the oldest families in the country. My name wasn’t just whispered.

It was watched .

Bred for influence. Polished for alliances. Trained to smile, to speak, to strike—in that order.

And the Caplans had been circling since I was fifteen.

Two years beside Griffin Caplan. The dynasty golden boy. Quarterback. Future political heir. The boy everyone expected me to marry.

And I’d done what was expected of me.

The loyal girlfriend. The untouchable cheer captain. Destined for marriage, legacy, and clean headlines .

The Adams Crown Jewel .

Obedient. Loyal.

Until tonight.

Until I walked in on Griffin with his hands on my stepsister’s hips. His tongue down her throat. The same stepsister who publicly humiliated me any chance she got.

Leaked private files to the press. Spread rumors sharp enough to tarnish even the darkest of reputations.

And something in me snapped.

Quiet. Clean. Final.

I didn’t cry or scream, no, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

I did something a lot worse, especially, in our world.

I chose .

I crossed the lawn like I was walking into battle. The thump of music warped around me. Phone screens lifted.

And I felt it. What is she doing over here.

Because I wasn’t walking toward Griffin.

I was walking toward them .

And I knew better, hell everyone knew not to cross family lines. Especially not between the Caplans and the Crows.

This wasn’t just an old rivalry. It was dynasty warfare .

Decades of blood-borne hate, forged in backroom betrayals and front-page silence. The kind of hate whispered through dinner parties, branded into surnames like tattoos.

The Crows .

They didn’t merge with families.

Didn’t need power.

They were power.

Unbothered. Untouchable. Unforgiving.

No alliances. No arranged engagements.

The Crows never played the dynasty game. They rewrote it.

Bastion and Luca Crow stood like they owned the night .

All black hoodies and post-game bruises.

Identical twins. But you could still tell them apart.

Bastion was all instinct and impact—quick to strike, quicker to ruin. He didn’t hold back. He exploded.

Luca was quiet. Measured. Lethal in stillness. He didn’t react. He calculated, then let you walk into the blade yourself.

Their cousins flanked them. Cups in hand. Scarred knuckles. Wolfish grins. Like normal the Crows were the centre of the party without including anyone.

And right now, I was walking straight into enemy territory. Where I most definitely didn’t belong.

Bastion saw me first. His eyes going up and down me slowly. His jaw clenched. Fingers tightened around the bottle in his hand.

Luca’s head tilted slightly. His expression unreadable.

And I didn’t stop.

I stepped into Bastion’s space. Grabbed the collar of his hoodie. And kissed him.

Hard.

Gasps sliced through the yard. Someone cursed.

His mouth didn’t move at first. Then his hand found my back, low, brutal, and pulled .

Bastion held me so tight, it felt like he could leave a bruise.

The kiss turned deadly .

I broke it. Slightly breathless, only to turn to look at Luca.

Luca stared like his twin had failed to tell him something. Before he could speak, I reached for him. Grabbing a handful of his shirt, I went up on my toes and kissed him too.

The crowd cracked open. Noise erupting like a wave behind us.

Luca didn’t move for a second. Then he did.

One hand cupped my jaw.

His lips pressed to mine .

Slower. Deeper. Certain.

Like he knew this moment would live forever. With the amount of cameras on us right now, it probably would. Marked forever as the day Emilia Adams lost her goddamn mind.

Bastion’s arm stayed around my waist. While I kissed his twin.

Finally, I pulled back. And I smiled. The one I’d been trained to wear in mirrors and media training since I was twelve.

The dynasty daughter smile.

“Thank you,” I said.

I let go of them and walked away—straight toward Griffin Caplan, who looked like he’d just been slapped.

Like he couldn’t quite process the fact I’d humiliated him in front of everyone.

And beside him, my stepsister, wearing a smug grin too big for her face.

Like she already knew what headline she’d sell to a gossip column in the next five minutes.

“Don’t message me,” I said, calmly, “We’re done.”

And I walked away.

Past Griffin’s rage.

Past the whispers and camera phones.

Knowing damn well, I’d be facing the consequences tomorrow.