Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé. Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now—billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn’t mind. I’d crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one? Wrong. One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That’s when it hit me—he didn’t love me. He didn’t even see me. Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Enter him. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised. But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I’d ever made. Because my one-night stand isn’t just some random guy. He’s richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he’s not letting me go.

Chapter 1 Breakup Over A Damn Mug Cracks！My fiancé hit me.Three minutes ago, I had been daydreaming about how to decorate our ridiculously expensive penthouse apartment, where every corner looked like it belonged on the cover of a magazine.Two minutes ago, I accidentally broke a mug.Then, Rhys slapped me across the face—hard.My cheek burned like it had been seared by fire. It took a full thirty seconds before my brain restarted, slowly piecing reality back together.“Are you fucking insane?” I gritted my teeth, forcing the words through the cracks of my jaw.Rhys’s lips were pressed into a cold, tight line, his expression dark and resolute. “It was just a mug with Katherine’s face on it,” he said, like my reaction was an overblown performance, not the result of something horrifying he had just done.“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” I stared at him in disbelief, chest heaving as rage and humiliation churned violently inside me, ready to explode.For half a second—just half—something like guilt flickered across his face. Then it vanished, consumed by a storm of fury.“No, you’re the insane one!” he roared. “I already agreed to marry you—what more do you want? Katherine’s gone, but you still broke that mug on purpose!”His voice trembled with anger. “She was your sister! She had to leave because of you! And now you're jealous of her? You won’t rest until every trace of her is erased, will you?”The hatred in his eyes cut deeper than the slap.My cheek throbbed. My hand was still bleeding. But nothing hurt more than my heart.I forced myself to unclench my jaw and made one last attempt to explain. “It wasn’t me. I never asked her to leave.”Technically speaking, I understood why someone might say that. Katherine had left behind a letter. In it, she said she’d seen my diary, realized I had a crush on Rhys, and decided to “let go,” to “let him be yours.”I don’t think she ever understood that a diary meant privacy. I never meant for anyone to read it, but not only did she read it—she told everyone.No one cared about the pain I felt when my secret was exposed. I was dragged out, nailed to a pillar of shame, forced to pay for her so-called noble sacrifice.To my family, it was like I’d been bumped up to the starting lineup out of nowhere, replacing the golden girl—I should’ve been grateful. Even if Rhys had stabbed me in the gut, they’d still find a way to excuse it.It was as if my parents had always hated me. No matter how much better I did than Katherine, they always saw me as bitter, as someone who couldn’t protect her fragile pride.The searing pain on my cheek intensified.My fingers clenched tightly around the engagement ring. A wave of heat—anger, humiliation, resentment—rose in my throat.Hot tears welled in my eyes, blurring my vision. I blinked fast, wiping them away before they could fall.I would not cry. I would never show weakness in front of him.I took a heavy step toward the door, struggling to move. I had to get out of there, or I would completely fall apart. Whatever shred of dignity I had left—I couldn’t let it be destroyed in front of this man.Rhys suddenly grabbed my wrist and yanked me back. “Clean it up.”I looked up at him in disbelief, needing to confirm I’d heard him right.“You broke the mug. You clean up the pieces.” His voice was icy, absolute.He had to be insane.“No.” I lifted my chin and spat the word without an ounce of compromise.His face tightened, jaw clenched. “You sure you want to do this?”“Yes. I said no.” My eyes were red, but they blazed with defiance as I stared him down without flinching.If love meant I had to grind my self-respect into the dirt, then it was worthless to me.The air between us was taut enough to snap. I could almost hear it crackling. The fury in his eyes was an uncontrollable blaze, threatening to consume me. And beneath that fire, I saw something else—disbelief. The once-docile little lamb had bared her fangs.He took a step closer, menace radiating from him. “Last chance. If you don’t obey me, then we—”“—are over,” I finished for him, cold and final.Shock froze his face. For a moment, the air went still. He hadn’t expected me to actually say it.While he was caught in that moment of confusion, I wrenched my arm free from his grip. The taste of freedom hadn’t yet bloomed in my chest when he snapped back to life, grabbing my arm again with brutal force.Now.I spun around without hesitation and raised my hand—Smack! A resounding slap landed hard across Rhys’s handsome, arrogant face.The air froze again, thick with silence.My palm tingled slightly, but it brought a rush of fierce, unprecedented satisfaction.Rhys staggered back a few steps, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief—not from the pain, but from a world turned upside down. He never thought I would dare. After all, I had once loved him so deeply.I lowered my hand, lifted my chin, and looked calmly at his stunned expression. I gave him a faint smile. “Now we’re even.”Without waiting another moment, I dragged my feet away from that suffocating hell.If I stayed even one more second, I would break down. I’d rather choke on my own tears than let him see them fall.Then—thud—I fell.High heels and emotional chaos are a terrible match.Pain shot through my palms and knees as they scraped against the hard marble. Blood surged out instantly, but I barely felt it.I got up, grabbed my purse, and kept walking.Home. I just wanted to go home. Away from all of this. Away from him.Like a woman fleeing the scene of a crime, I burst out of the building—only to slam into a wall of muscle and the intoxicating scent of expensive cologne.I looked up—and saw sharp, sculpted features with an aura so commanding it could silence a room. He looked like the kind of man who, if you pissed him off, wouldn’t just ruin your life—he’d erase your entire existence.Unfortunately, that only made him more attractive.For a second, I wished he would throw me over his shoulder and carry me to his lair—my face flushed red instantly. If this were a porno, the camera angle would be an absolute disaster.I snapped myself back to reality.“Sorry,” I mumbled and rushed into the elevator of my apartment building.Back upstairs, I rummaged through my bag. My heart sank.No keys.Of course. The universe had clearly declared today The End of Mira Day.Frustration and helplessness surged in my chest. I kicked off my heels and shook the doorknob violently. It didn’t help—but I needed to let it out. Why did everyone always choose Katherine?! Hadn’t I done enough?I collapsed against the wall, sliding down to the cold floor as sobs tore from my throat. The tears came in a flood, impossible to stop.Just as I was nearly choking on my own cries, a voice—low, smooth, like black velvet—cut through the air behind me.“Your key.”Fury sparked in my veins. Why did someone always interrupt me just when I was about to get it all out?Annoyed, I turned, ready to glare—only to freeze.Through tear-blurred eyes, I saw him again. The man I had bumped into downstairs—the one who looked like he had stepped out of a Renaissance painting.“Your key fell,” he said, raising an eyebrow as his gaze landed on the scattered contents of my purse. “That’s probably why you couldn’t find it.”I stared at the key resting in his elegant hand, my face flushing so hot it could’ve lit a match. I snatched it from him and fumbled to unlock the door, stumbling inside without a word.It wasn’t until my back hit the door that I realized—I hadn’t even thanked him.Great job, Mira. You absolute idiot.Hesitating, I crept toward the peephole. Through that tiny lens, I saw him calmly turn, unlock the door directly across the hall, and stroll inside.He lived across from me?He must’ve just moved in. With a face like that—and that aura—there’s no way I wouldn’t have noticed before.Wait, Mira. What are you doing? You’re seriously letting a hot new neighbor make you forget the hell Rhys just put you through?No. Absolutely not. All men are trash. Always.I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to steady my racing heartbeat, reminding myself not to be so stupid again. But no matter how hard I tried, that sculpted face kept flashing through my mind.I needed ice—for my racing pulse, and more urgently, for the stinging pain on my cheek.Just as I forced myself up to head to the kitchen, my phone rang, shrill and sharp.One glance at the screen made my whole body go cold.Mom.I couldn’t ignore the call. If I did, she would destroy my career without hesitation. She was absolutely capable of it.The moment I picked up, her voice sliced through the air—cold and merciless.“Mira, you must be insane! How dare you do something so disgraceful to Rhys! You apologize to him right now or you’re no longer our daughter!”I opened my mouth to explain, stunned—but she hung up before I could get a single word out.I gripped my phone tightly. Why was it that no matter how hard I tried, I still couldn’t earn even a sliver of their love? And Katherine—she never had to do anything, yet she was their perfect, precious jewel.Enough.I thought if I worked hard enough, my family, my fiancé—they would love me.But that’s never going to happen.I have to reclaim the self-respect I lost long ago.I have to break off this engagement with Rhys—no matter the consequences.

Chapter 2 Plan B For the next forty-eight hours, I became one with my bed.No calls. No outside world. Just me, a pile of blankets, and the crushing weight of humiliation.That slap from Rhys wasn’t just a blow to the face. In so many ways, it was a slap across my entire life—one steeped in desperation, delusion, and pathetic longing. It forced me awake. It forced me to look back on everything I’d ever done to make him notice me, everything I did for a fantasy called “us” that had never truly existed.God, where do I even begin?Like the time he casually mentioned he liked girls with smooth, silky hair. That night, I ordered three bottles of the shampoo he’d once praised. My scalp broke out in hives. I smiled through the pain and said, “It’s fine—some allergic reactions are worth it.”Or when he told me he was too busy with work to grab dinner, so I stayed up learning how to bake and brought him a box of pastries in the rain. He didn’t even open the door—just had the receptionist tell me, “Don’t bother next time. I don’t like sweets.”Then there was that night at his friend’s dinner party. I forced down oysters—my most hated food—just to seem “graceful and agreeable.” I spent the entire night crouched over a toilet, writhing in pain until 3 a.m. He didn’t ask if I was okay. He laughed and said, “Can’t even handle seafood? That’s just dramatic.”But the worst?That time he quoted a line from The Godfather he liked. I stayed up all night reading film essays just to casually drop the quote at a party. I got it wrong. He corrected me in front of everyone, sneering, “Don’t pretend to like things you clearly don’t understand.”And I laughed. I laughed and said, “You’ve got such a good memory.”What a joke. I never realized I was never the person he wanted.He never really saw me. To him, I was nothing more than a low-rent version of the “perfect and untouchable” Katherine. A cheap stand-in.I wasn’t her, but I could offer him the faint illusion of having her again. That was all I was good for.I buried my face in the pillow and laughed until I shook. Not because it was funny—but because the pain had gone too deep for tears.Thankfully, after my parents delivered their final ultimatum two days ago, they hadn’t contacted me again.A small part of me wondered—did Rhys intervene? Did he finally realize what he’d done?Suddenly, the doorbell rang.And it didn’t stop ringing.For a full five minutes.I groaned into my pillow. Oh god. Social interaction.Dragging my exhausted body to the door, I opened it.Ivan Carlisle—my best friend and the only person who had the legal right to yell at me—stood on the other side, hands on hips. Then her eyes landed on my face.Her expression froze. The light in her eyes dimmed. “What the hell happened to you?”“I’m fine,” I said, trying to sound casual. She wasn’t buying it.She reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Her jaw clenched.Then—silence.Not the awkward kind. The dangerous kind. The kind that comes right before something explodes.“Who hit you?”“Come inside,” I muttered quickly, trying not to draw the neighbors’ attention. That would be mortifying.Ivan didn’t move. She gripped my arm and spoke through gritted teeth. “Mira. Who. Hit. You?”As soon as the door clicked shut, I collapsed into her arms. My face buried in her sweater, and within seconds, the fabric was soaked.She didn’t flinch. She just held me, her hand moving in calm, soothing circles across my back.I didn’t know how long I cried. Long enough for my throat to burn and my nose to turn bright red like Rudolph. Eventually, I managed to force out a single word.“Rhys.”Ivan didn’t move.Everyone in Sky City knew that name. Rhys Granger wasn’t the kind of man who needed to throw punches to destroy someone. One phone call to the right person, and your life would be over. Reputation, money, status—he had it all.Every move he made was deliberate, timed to perfection—like the ticking of a Rolex. When he chose to go to war, he was a nobleman wielding cruelty like fine art, probably with a glass of aged Scotch in hand.People called him arrogant. No one ever called him violent.That’s why, when Ivan processed what I’d just said, I could practically hear the gears in her brain screaming in protest.“No way,” she muttered under her breath, as if denying it out loud might somehow make it untrue. “Rhys? Your Rhys? He couldn’t have…”I got it. I really did. Rhys was supposed to be the gentleman. The golden boy. The flawless, elegant, untouchable good guy.“It was him,” I said quietly.She exhaled sharply, then started rubbing my back again, this time slower. “Tell me what happened.”I swallowed. “I was at his place. I, uh… accidentally broke a mug.”Her entire body tensed. “Just a mug?”I nodded.Silence. Then she clenched her jaw and said, “I swear to God, if you tell me it was some priceless, hand-crafted, one-of-a-kind family heirloom—”“It was Katherine’s mug.”Ivan’s hand froze mid-pat.Everything shifted. One second, she was my concerned best friend. The next, she was a woman plotting murder.I grabbed her wrist before she could get ahold of something worse. “It’s over between Rhys and me.”“Really?”“Really. Even if the earth split in two and Sky City sank into the ocean, I wouldn’t marry him.”That stopped her from storming out to commit homicide.“Katherine. That venomous snake—” Ivan spat the name like it physically hurt her. “She’s not even here anymore and she’s still managing to wreck your life! And your parents? They just stand there watching! I swear, they could watch her light your house on fire and they’d hand her the matches. It’s unbelievable!”I felt like a balloon someone had just popped—deflated, exhausted. That all-too-familiar ache settled deep in my chest. I knew some parents would always love their firstborn more. And there was nothing I could do about it.“I’m sorry, Mira.”Ivan sat down beside me and gave my head a firm push toward her shoulder. I pulled away and managed a weak smile. “Actually, I think it’s a good thing. At least I found out what kind of man he is before we got married. Better now than after the vows, right?”She let out a long sigh, her eyes softening. “Mira, you know no matter what happens, I’ve got your back.”Right then, my stomach growled loud enough to interrupt the moment. Loudly.Like a magician, Ivan reached behind her and pulled out a takeout bag, giving me a look that practically screamed: I knew you’d be like this.I wanted to hug her, but I was too busy eating like a ravenous little goblin.After dinner, she pushed me into the bedroom and went off to clean up. I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, drained and overwhelmed. What now?Through the half-open door, I heard her on the phone. I didn’t catch every word, but the ones I did hear… were iconic.“A pile of shit.”“Total fucking psycho.”“Oh, you think that’s bad? Wait till I tell you what this violent bastard actually did—”She was probably talking to Zane Hasterton. And unlike Rhys, Zane would never raise a hand to her.The way Ivan so instantly, so fiercely chose me—without hesitation, without question—made my throat tighten. She believed me. No one else did. But she did.This wasn’t something she did lightly. Rhys’s family sat at the very top of the food chain—untouchable. And I had no doubt her parents wouldn’t be thrilled to see her go up against them.I curled deeper under the blanket and let out a slow breath.Why couldn’t my parents love me like that?Ever since their favorite daughter Houdini’d her way out of their master plan, I became Plan B. But that didn’t mean they forgave my existence.Let’s be honest: the only reason they’d stopped actively berating me was because I got engaged to Rhys. That little arrangement somehow elevated me from “irreparable family disgrace” to “potential saving grace.”Part of the reason I agreed to the engagement—and I know how pathetic this sounds—was because I thought maybe I could finally get something Katherine had: a sliver of parental affection. A crumb of approval.But now that the engagement was off?I was disposable again.Last I heard, they were boxing up my things, ready to ship me off to some remote jungle where I’d spend the rest of my life befriending anacondas and repenting for my sins.They were absolutely capable of that.I groaned into my pillow. What the hell do I do now?Unless… I married someone more powerful than Rhys.The idea was so ridiculous I snorted. Right. Because billionaires are just wandering around Sky City hoping to marry a 23-year-old orphan with no patience for their bullshit.And yet—A face flashed in my mind.Three days ago. My new neighbor.I remembered, quite inappropriately, thinking I wouldn’t mind being alone with him in his apartment where he could do all sorts of rated-R things to me.I shook my head, quickly banishing the thought. I didn’t even know his name. Just that he had the kind of aura that could slice a person in half.No. Way too dangerous.I groaned again.If I hadn’t broken that stupid mug, everything might’ve been okay.But it wasn’t. And it’s not. And there’s no going back.Fuck! Why am I the one trying to fix this when I wasn’t even the one who messed it up?! I sat up—and bam, the door burst open.Ivan marched in. “Sleep is just going to make you feel worse. We’re getting up, and we’re going to find a dick worth loving—one that’s better than Rhys’s.”WHAT?!While I gaped, she had already changed me into a new outfit.Just like that, we were off to Sky City’s most exclusive club—members only.

Chapter 3 Rebound Night “Is this really necessary?” I stood at the end of the line, shivering, tugging desperately at the hem of my tragically short skirt. I could practically feel it—if I opened my mouth to speak, my underwear would be on full display.“Sweetheart, we paid a fortune to get into this place. Of course we’re going all kill. Do you not get it?” Ivanna declared like a mafia queen, standing tall against the icy wind in her five-inch heels without the slightest trace of fear.“But isn’t this a little too—” I didn’t even get to finish before a brutal gust of wind slapped me across the face like it had a personal vendetta. I immediately yanked up the zipper of my puffer jacket and curled into myself like a frozen shrimp.Ivanna let out a dramatic groan. “Mira, come on. We’re going to a bar, not an Arctic expedition.”“I’m just glad I won’t be hospitalized for hypothermia tonight, thanks,” I snapped back.She rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might fall out of her head, gave me a once-over full of disappointment—but said nothing more. Small victory. My puffer jacket was safe—for now.I’d thought we’d have to wait in line like everyone else. That was the whole reason I wore this thermal fortress of a coat. But clearly, I had underestimated Ivanna.She had zero plans to follow the rules.With the ease of someone who’d done this a thousand times, she slipped a rolled-up bill into the bouncer’s hand, her palm casually grazing his rock-hard chest like a Bond girl who’d forgotten her martini.Ten seconds. That’s all it took. We were in.Ivanna was the kind of beautiful that made men forget protocol—and ethics—in an instant.And just like that, we breezed into Roxanne.The place was thick with heat, perfume, and the effervescent scent of champagne. I ripped off my coat the second we stepped inside, only to be met with a “are-you-trying-to-embarrass-me?” glare from Ivanna.She handed her coat off to a passing server with a flick of her fingers, like she’d personally hired the man. Regal, effortless, born for this.I tried to copy her moves. Failed miserably. Nearly dropped my purse and stumbled like a hamster who’d just woken up from a freezer nap.Graceful? No. I looked like roadkill in Gucci heels.If I hadn’t known each cocktail here cost about the same as my checking account balance, I might’ve even convinced myself I was pulling it off.“Jesus Christ!” I gasped, eyes glued to the menu like it had just insulted my entire bloodline.Ivanna gave me a sideways glance and scoffed. “Relax. Tonight’s on me.”I exhaled with something dangerously close to gratitude. Considering I’d nearly broken off an engagement, risked being exiled to some remote tropical island by my parents, and needed to budget for anti-snake spray, I needed all the charity I could get.Price tags aside, the view was elite: ambitious young actors, outrageously good-looking models, and a legion of finance bros who looked like they gave TED talks while wearing Burberry.It was a glittering buffet of vanity and hormones, wrapped in velvet lighting and the illusion of power.We found a table near the bar and hadn’t even ordered drinks when a bartender locked eyes on us.Well. He was hard to miss—tall, sculpted features, sleeves rolled to the elbows just enough to show off well-trained forearms.He shouldn’t be mixing drinks—he should be in the Louvre. Or at the very least starring in Dior’s newest fragrance campaign. Maybe that’s why this club was so expensive: even the staff had to be perfect.“Two 75s, French brandy,”Before I could even locate the cheapest drink on the menu, Ivanna had already tossed her order at the bartender. “Make it strong.”And of course, she didn’t forget to flash her signature smile—the one that balanced perfectly between sexy and innocent, chin tilted just enough to say “Oops, didn’t mean to flirt”.The bartender reached effortlessly for the gin, giving her a half-smile. “Rough night?”“More like an engagement-level disaster,” she said, casually pointing her thumb at me. “And it’s wrapping up real soon.”I glanced at her. “Thrilled that my personal life is now public broadcast.”She patted my hand with mock sympathy. “Sweetie, this place runs on romantic catastrophes. Without bad decisions, no one would be buying drinks.”Then she turned away and melted into the crowd, flipping into Social Queen Mode like someone had hit a switch.In under ten seconds, she completed a visual sweep—like a hawk zeroing in on prey—before spinning back around and pointing her perfectly manicured finger toward the edge of the dance floor.“Okay, listen. You need a rebound. Exhibit A: Six-foot-two, hair neater than your ex-fiancé’s moral compass, shirt unbuttoned just enough to scream sexy without slipping into cheap. He either owns a yacht or, at the very least, a VIP card.”I shook my head. “Nope.”Her eyes flicked to a new direction. “Exhibit B: struggling musician. Dressed like payday hasn’t happened yet, but he’s hot enough you’d forgive him. You’d fund his next album and still sleep like a baby.”“Pass.”She sighed, then pointed again. “Fine. Exhibit C: total dad vibes—but the good kind. Like ‘books your doctor’s appointment and your breakfast’ dad, not ‘calls the waitress ‘sweetheart’ and thinks climate change is a myth’ dad.”I groaned into my hands. “Ivanna, please.”She didn’t back down. “Mira, you cannot sit here like a decorative wall gecko. Tonight is about rebooting your life, not stitching up emotional wounds.”Just as she geared up for a fourth round of rebound recommendations, she suddenly froze. It was like someone had hit mute on her entire system.Then, far too casually, she said, “Hey, want to hit the bathroom?”I narrowed my eyes. “No?”“…Or maybe let’s move tables? The vibe here’s weird.” Her smile was tight, and her voice cracked like a pair of worn-out heels.Weird vibe? We’d only been sitting for ten minutes, and we just ordered drinks. By Ivanna’s standards, we hadn’t even made it past the opening credits.Then I followed her gaze.A half-private booth.Rhys.He had his arm draped around a woman. Her head rested on his shoulder, makeup flawless, smile polished and effortless.I didn’t need more details.That face—I would never forget it.Four years ago, a girl vanished under mysterious circumstances. I, in all my naive glory, believed she had simply “stepped aside,” choosing to selflessly walk away from a future with Rhys.And now, here was Katherine—perched on my ex-fiancé’s lap, locked in a pose so intimate it looked less like a casual bar date and more like a budget version of Fifty Shades of Grey.I had told myself I was over it. Over him. We’d broken up. It was done. Time to move on.Until I heard what came next.“Honestly, I didn’t think she’d fall apart over a coffee mug.”Katherine’s voice was soft, full of false pity—the kind that sounded like she’d just killed someone and was now gently tucking a blanket over the body.She gently swirled the wine in her glass, her lips curling into a near-perfect smile. “Of course I put that mug somewhere obvious. I wanted her to notice. After all, she still doesn’t know you’ve been seeing me behind her back. It was time she caught a little hint, wasn’t it?”She looked up at Rhys, eyes glowing with admiration. “Honestly though, darling, your performance was spot-on. Even I almost believed you were worried she’d find out about us, instead of just helping me pull off the scene. She’s so stupid—of course she thought you were upset about the mug, not terrified of exposing your affair.”Rhys chuckled softly, smug and relaxed. “I had to act like I cared. She spends every day trying to be the perfect girlfriend. If she found out all her effort still couldn’t compete with you, she’d lose it.”Katherine laughed under her breath and patted his chest. “Don’t worry. Knowing Mira, she’s probably still scrambling to fix things. She’s the type who always believes that if she just tries hard enough, people will finally see her worth.”Her laugh turned soft, laced with pity so sharp it felt like a blade. “But the harder she tries, the more pathetic she looks. And me? I just ‘happened’ to return home. Her parents don’t know a thing. They didn’t even get the chance to stop me. Tomorrow, I’ll be seeing them in broad daylight—because she gave up the engagement herself, and you, dear, are blameless.”Katherine leaned back with a triumphant sigh. “Isn’t this the best ending? I never gave up on you. I was just waiting for her to step aside.”Rhys nodded slowly, a small smirk on his lips. “You’re right. You always are.”A loud roar filled my ears, and my heartbeat pounded against my skull like a war drum.Ivanna must’ve been saying something—pleading with me to stay calm, not to do anything stupid—but I didn’t hear a word.I wasn’t the same Mira who swallowed her pride for praise anymore.I slipped free from Ivanna’s grip and turned to the bartender. “Your best red. Put it on Rhys Granger’s tab.”The bartender—bless his beautiful, rule-breaking soul—didn’t even flinch. He handed me the bottle like I’d just ordered mineral water.With the bottle in hand, I had a mission. A singular, burning purpose.The bouncer moved to stop me, but one look at my face—like a vengeful goddess straight from hell—made him wisely back off, hands raised in surrender.I marched straight toward Rhys and Katherine. They were lip-locked in some dramatic, second-rate soap opera make-out scene.I raised the bottle—and smashed it, with all my strength.Glass shattered with a sharp crack, spraying across the table. Rhys’s forehead split instantly, a trail of blood beginning to drip down between his brows.Katherine screamed and leapt off his lap. “Mirabelle?! Are you insane?! What are you doing here?!”She scrambled to find a lie, panic rising in her voice. “You’re misunderstanding, it’s not what you think—”Rhys cut her off, his hand gripping her arm, his gaze dark and frigid. “Don’t bother explaining, Katherine. It doesn’t matter. My parents will take your side, no matter what. We’re just correcting an old mistake.”Katherine’s panic twisted into smugness in an instant. She curled into his side with sickening sweetness and cooed, “Oh, honey, your head’s bleeding. We have to get to the hospital.”Before I could say anything, Ivanna rushed to my side, fury radiating from every pore. She raised her hand, ready to slap Katherine straight back to whatever pit she'd crawled out of. “You disgusting, two-faced bitch—!”I grabbed her wrist, steady and cold. “Ivanna, let them go. If they stay here one more second, I might lose my appetite permanently.”I locked eyes with Katherine’s smug little face and raised my voice deliberately. “After all, the theme of this place is premium taste, not some clearance aisle for secondhand trash.”Katherine’s smile froze on her lips. Rhys’s face darkened, but they had no chance to respond.Ivanna, emboldened, lifted her chin and sneered at the bouncers. “Well? What are you waiting for? Kindly escort these two walking health code violations off the premises.”

Chapter 4 Key Guy As soon as they were gone, Ivanna dragged me out of the club.Damn it. I hated that Katherine had predicted every single thought running through my mind.Yes, I had still been considering salvaging my relationship with Rhys.But now? The truth was right there, unmistakable and raw—they’d been sleeping together behind my back all along. And me? I was just the foolish, unnecessary third wheel in their twisted little story.What I couldn’t wrap my head around was—why had Katherine faked her disappearance four years ago? What exactly had she been hiding? And why come back now?My eyes stung. I tilted my head toward the sky, forcing the tears back.Fine. Katherine’s back. Perfect. Now they could all reunite like a happy little four-piece family™, and I… I was finally free.“Mira… I’m so sorry. I had no idea they’d be there tonight. I didn’t even know Katherine was back.” Ivanna’s eyes were full of regret.I gave a bitter laugh and shook my head. “Neither did I. But I heard it loud and clear—they’ve been screwing around for a while. To them, I was just in the way.”“Those goddamn assholes!” Ivanna hissed through clenched teeth. “You should tell your parents. Let them know Katherine’s not the perfect angel they think she is. What about Rhys’s parents? No way they’ll tolerate a scandal like this.”I was quiet for a moment. Ivanna had a point—Rhys’s parents were the only people who had supported me. But he was their son. They wouldn’t choose me over him. Not in the end.And my parents? I let out a breath, heavy and tired. “You know better than anyone—they only care about Katherine. No matter what I do, I’ll never replace her.”Ivanna grabbed my shoulders, worry darkening her gaze. “So what now? You’re just going to let them humiliate you?”“Maybe.” My voice dropped to a whisper, a weariness weighing it down. “Maybe if I accept it, it’ll finally be over.”Suddenly, Ivanna’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, brows knitting in frustration. “Mira, my agent just called. There’s a last-minute ad shoot—I have to go now. Can you get home on your own?”I nodded, managing a faint smile. “Go. Don’t worry about me. I’ll call when I get back.”After she left, I hailed a cab. Instinctively, I gave the driver my home address. But barely two minutes into the ride, a wave of suffocating pressure settled over me.“No, wait,” I said quickly. “Take me to a bar. Any bar. Just… far away from Roxanne.”The driver didn’t blink—clearly used to the erratic demands of Sky City’s broken-hearted.We eventually pulled up outside some unfamiliar nightclub. Velvet ropes. A crowd of influencer-types wielding selfie sticks. I didn’t bother checking the name. I handed the bouncer some bills and strode inside.Straight to the bar.“Whiskey sour. Large. Keep them coming.”“Ma’am, maybe you should slow down,” the bartender said gently, with concern.I slammed my empty glass on the counter and shoved my card across. “Did I stutter? Top me off.”The bartender sighed, but obliged.“That guy’s right,” a smooth, magnetic voice murmured beside me. “Too much alcohol can impair cognitive function and judgment. Unless you want to wake up in a stranger’s bed tonight—”I turned, irritated—then froze.It was him.The man from last night. My new neighbor. The one who’d handed me my keys with all the casual elegance of a Renaissance statue.“Well, well. You again.” I raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at my lips. “You really can’t resist other people’s business, huh?”He chuckled softly, completely unfazed. “Think of it as a well-developed instinct for being helpful.”I gave an exaggerated sigh. “You’re a hero, truly. But I don’t need saving, Mr. Key Man.”“I know,” he said calmly, lifting his glass and taking a slow sip. His eyes were clear and sharp. “But you do seem in desperate need of clarity.”I frowned. “Is this how you treat all your neighbors? First their keys, then their dignity?”He laughed—a low, rich sound. “Only when the neighbor looks like she’s on the verge of self-destruction.”“…But I am always self-destructing,” I muttered, suddenly quieter. “Doesn’t it seem kind of pathetic? Like my whole life is just one mess after another?”He didn’t laugh. He didn’t rush to reassure me, either. He didn’t even deny what I’d just said.He just looked at me. Calm. Quiet. Like he was watching a slow-motion disaster unfold—but had no intention of stopping it.“You’re not wrong,” he finally said, voice low and steady. “You are pretty good at making a mess of things. Like right now—you can’t even stand properly and you’re still demanding more alcohol.”I froze, frowning instinctively.But he went on, his tone unhurried—like he was flipping through a book and had landed on a sentence he already knew by heart:“But strangely, you always seem to meet someone who refuses to walk away... right before everything falls apart.”I stared at him, half in shock, half in suspicion. “Are you… flirting with me?”He gave me a slow smile, his eyes lazily curving with just the right amount of mischief. His voice came out smooth and provocative, like velvet wrapped around steel. “Does it make you feel any better?”His voice was low and warm, like whiskey being poured into a glass at midnight—just a little dizzying, just a little dangerous. He looked at me with an intensity that felt nearly uncontrollable, like he might lean in close and whisper things in the dark, on a bed, asking if his touch was hard enough.My heart skipped a beat. My cheeks flushed instantly. My fingertips tightened against the edge of the bar.I had to look at him properly. Really see him.That face—it wasn’t just handsome. It had the kind of quiet, devastating maturity that no amount of cologne and hair gel could fake. Not the kind you’d find among the over-groomed boys who danced to house music like they were owed the world.A wild, uninvited thought flashed through my mind.If I let him walk away tonight, maybe I was rejecting one of those rare, merciful moments when fate offered a second chance.Before I could stop myself, my hand wrapped around the sleeve of his suit jacket. I rose from the barstool, heart pounding.“So, Mr. Keys,” I said, my voice hoarse but firm, “since you’re so committed to helping… why not help all the way?”He clearly hadn’t expected that. His brow lifted slightly, surprise flickering across his face—but he didn’t step back. He didn’t laugh. He simply said, calm and steady:“Of course. As long as this is something you won’t deny when you’re sober.”“I’m sure.” I answered without hesitation.Gripping his wrist tighter, I pulled him through the crowd and out of the bar.The night wind struck us like a cleansing slap, city lights flickering above.I didn’t let myself pause. No time to think, no space for regret.We crossed the street. Entered the nearest hotel lobby.Because tonight, I needed to know if I had the courage to accept what fate had placed in front of me.It must have been one hell of a night, because when I woke up, sunlight was spilling through the curtains, and the red LED numbers of the digital clock blinked 10:07 AM at me with the judgmental smugness of a nun catching you sneaking out of the church.The sheets still carried his scent—bergamot and sin—and my body buzzed from the lingering aftershocks of what we’d done.I stared at the ceiling and thought: That was absolutely phenomenal sex.The kind that wrecks you, delights you, and makes you stupid enough to want another round.I ached everywhere—in the best, most regrettable way.But my head… my head was a battlefield. It felt like a hundred tiny jackhammers were drilling through my skull. The alcohol from last night had declared mutiny, and my brain was paying the price, like someone had jammed a red-hot poker through my temple.I had no idea how much I drank—definitely more than I should’ve.The details had vanished into a fog thicker than a London morning.Groaning, I rolled out of bed. Groaned again. Began gathering the scattered pieces of my clothing.The plan was simple: Get dressed. Sneak out. Pretend this never happened.I had just picked up my skirt when a voice stopped me.“Leaving so soon?”Shit.I turned—very slowly, thanks to the hangover and the shame—and saw him standing in the bathroom doorway, a towel slung low on his hips.Droplets clung to his abs, catching the morning light, trailing down the deep V of his torso.I stared. Unashamed.Images from the night before surged back into my brain. I suddenly felt… very, very thirsty.“We need to talk,” he said.

Chapter 5 Proposal “We need to talk.”He stood in front of me, voice disturbingly calm—like he was announcing the fridge had broken, not that I had thrown him onto a bed the night before.Talk?My brain instantly began filtering keywords. Talk about what? A debrief? A review? Or was he proposing some sort of… “long-term sexual partnership”?Definitely not a proposal. That only happens in soap operas written by people with chronic romance brain.Was he worried I’d cling to him?After all—it was me who started this.I was the one who dragged him out of the bar.I was the one who opened the hotel door.I was the one who pinned him down without a second thought.“Look,” I said, adopting the most adult, accountable tone I could muster, “last night was a mistake. A reckless, impulsive, but… undeniably enjoyable mistake.”I tried not to look at his shoulders. Not at his chest. Not at the water droplets sliding down his clavicle, tracing the path over sculpted muscle.“I’m not going to ask you to take responsibility. I won’t call you crying about emotional trauma. I’m not that kind of girl.”He didn’t say anything.Seeing no reaction, I turned to the door—cue graceful exit, complete with closure monologue.But just as my hand reached the doorknob, a warm, wet palm landed on the back of mine.I froze. Slowly turned around.He was looking at me with an expression I couldn’t place—somewhere between surprise and… seriousness.“You don’t remember me?” he asked softly.I blinked, thrown. I answered quickly, almost defensive: “Of course I do. You’re my new neighbor. Helped me find my keys the other night.”Technically true. Totally accurate.What I didn’t say—and never would—was that even without those trivial interactions, I remembered him.That face was unforgettable.Or, to be more precise, that face, standing in front of me in just a white towel, with water dripping down those abs… yeah. Not something easily erased from memory.I swallowed hard.The trick was: don’t look directly at him. Like an eclipse.Too bad that strategy had completely failed.Worse still, even though I was fully dressed and he was practically naked, somehow under his gaze, I felt like the one completely exposed.I tried to speak—say something, anything to shift the attention.But he didn’t ask again. He just stood there, watching me, as if waiting for the moment my real reaction would finally arrive.The silence stretched.Then he said, “It’s fine. Doesn’t matter.”I blinked. What?“Can I go now?” I asked, my voice dry. His hand still hadn’t moved.He looked at me again, then—unhurriedly—said:“Will you marry me?”…WTF?!“You’re not serious.” I finally found my voice.“I’m completely serious,” he replied, like he was announcing a quarterly investment plan. “I just returned to the country. My parents want me to get married as soon as possible. In their eyes, a married man means stability. And only a stable man can inherit the family business.”I fell silent.Two days ago, I swore I’d bring home someone better than Rhys.Someone impressive enough to shut my parents up.And now, the universe had delivered an answer—just with a thick layer of irony.But I knew.Marriage shouldn’t be like this.I’d already lived through a love-less engagement once.What it left behind was a house full of silence, intimacy that felt hollow, and a slow, brutal erosion of my self-respect.I opened my mouth to say no.But at that moment, my phone rang.The sharp ringtone sliced through the quiet like a knife.I glanced at the screen—and felt like a bomb had gone off in my chest.Caroline Vance.My mother.Katherine was back.She must’ve called to announce the beginning of something.I looked at that face—familiar yet foreign—then back down at my phone.And finally, I said the words:“I can’t accept.”I walked out of the hotel suite, the ringtone still shrieking behind me.I answered not because I wanted to, but because I needed—desperately—to sever this umbilical cord that kept dragging me back into the past.“Why didn’t you answer your phone? Were you trying to give me a stroke?”My mother’s voice came rapid-fire, like a machine gun.“I thought you were dead in a ditch or kidnapped by some maniac! Get home. Now. We need to talk.”“I’m already on my way,” I said coldly, and hung up before she could launch into round two.I gave the driver my parents’ address and collapsed into the backseat, like someone bracing for a colonoscopy without anesthesia.Okay. Let’s get this over with.My neighbor—aka my one-night stand—was probably insane.But while I still had a drop of alcohol-induced courage left in my bloodstream—while the old Mira, desperate for love, hadn’t crawled back in and taken over—I had to move fast.I had to throw this shattered mess back in their perfect little faces.The Vance family estate sat in the kind of suburban enclave that didn’t welcome anyone who couldn’t afford a BMW. No subway stops. No bus routes. Just an elegantly phrased “keep out, poor people.”At the wrought-iron gate, I inhaled deeply. I felt like a boxer walking into the ring. Shoulders squared. Chin lifted. Emotional armor locked and loaded.The moment I stepped into the living room, I could smell the ambush.My father—Franklin Vance—sat alone in his leather chair, wearing the same expression he probably used to fire underperforming hedge fund managers.Beside him, my mother, Caroline, with her flawless hair and perfectly aligned pearl necklace, smiled the way a doctor does when saying, “The cancer’s spread.”To their left, Rhys sat on the sofa, all solemn and brooding, as if waiting for a divorce lawyer to direct his next pose.And on the right?Katherine, obviously.All we were missing was a gavel and a court reporter.This was a trial.I was the defendant.And the verdict had already been written.Mother struck first.“What took you so long? I called you hours ago.”She crossed her arms, her tone colder than the AC.“Traffic,” I lied.If I told them I’d just escaped from a man in a towel, they’d have me institutionalized.“So? Why am I here?” My tone was sharp, iced over.No one answered.Not until Rhys stood, bandage still across his forehead.The sight of him looking vaguely wounded brought me the tiniest flicker of grim satisfaction.“You left this at my place,” he said slowly, holding something in his hand.“Your bear alarm clock.”I stared at it.A cheap, scuffed electronic clock shaped like a cartoon bear, its plastic face scratched and faded from over a decade of use.And now, this relic was their opening move?Rage crawled up my throat, but I forced it down.“Thanks,” I said flatly. “That’s… thoughtful.”I snatched the ridiculous little clock and turned to leave.Come on. No one calls a full-blown family meeting just to return a damn alarm clock. I knew better. This was about humiliation. About putting me in my place.They were the real family.I was always the outsider—invited in only when they needed a benchwarmer.“Wait,” my mother said, her voice even colder than before.I paused. Didn’t turn around.She folded her arms again and smiled—that tight, poisonous kind of smile you only see when a doctor says “Stage four.”“Now that Katherine’s back,” she said, “and since you and Rhys have broken up, we believe it’s time—he and Katherine should be engaged.”I gave a short, humorless laugh. Turned around slowly, letting the sarcasm drip from my mouth.“By all means. Plan whatever you want. Not like you’ve ever asked for my opinion before.”“We used to ask,” she said, voice turning sharp, “back when you were still the sensible daughter. The one with potential.”She stepped closer.“You’re too emotional, Mira. Your insecurity made you paranoid—accusing Rhys, trying to control him. You didn’t trust him, and that’s what destroyed the relationship.”Her words were blades.Featherlight in tone.Ruthless in effect.“So this is on you.And you’ll make that clear in the press.Tell them you fell for someone else.That’s why you ended the engagement.”I froze.Something tore inside my chest—like they’d ripped it open with their bare hands.I looked at them, all of them—my parents, Rhys, Katherine.So calm. So calculated.Like a script they'd rehearsed for weeks.What had I done to deserve this?Where had I gone so wrong?I was ready to explode. To storm out.But that’s when my father finally stood.Like a judge preparing to read the sentence.“You don’t have to worry about finding someone new,” he said with absolute finality.“We’ve already made arrangements—”

Chapter 6 Family Showdown I don’t even remember how I got out of that house.All I had was one single, sharp conclusion echoing through my head—I must not be their daughter.And I had to find out the truth.It was the only explanation I could cling to—because otherwise, how could I live with the idea that my own parents were capable of being this cruel?The moment I got back to my apartment, I collapsed into bed. I didn’t move until my phone started ringing.It was Ivanna.I didn’t wait for her to ask anything—I just blurted out everything my parents had done.And, yes… I also told her about the one-night stand.I left out the proposal.Ivanna let out a scream so high-pitched it could probably shatter glass and murder all the plants in my apartment.“You had a one-night stand?! And you didn’t FaceTime me live from the scene?!”I switched the phone to speaker and tossed it onto the couch, slumping back into the cushions with my eyes closed.Her voice kept going like fireworks:“Who is he? What mythological realm did this man descend from? Are you telling me you actually, finally, let Rhys go? Don’t tell me—he looks like Michelangelo carved him, or…”She paused. I could picture her sitting up on her sofa, wrapped in a blanket, making that infamous, exaggerated gesture.“A wand of unnatural proportions?”“You are—so. Incredibly. Annoying,” I groaned, dragging a pillow over my face.“You’re dodging the topic,” she snapped back instantly.Yes.Yes, I was.I never hid things from Ivanna. Not even the ugliest parts of my story.Not even… last night.I slept with a man whose last name I couldn’t remember.Just to peel Rhys’s residue off my skin—for a minute, an hour, a night—whatever it took to feel free again.Was it liberating?No.It was revenge, escape, a cocktail of both with a guilt chaser.But Ivanna wasn’t here to judge me.She was here to douse the flames—even if it was only through the tiny speaker in my living room.“At least tell me this,” she said suddenly, her voice lowering, softer. “Was he hot? Like, close-your-eyes-and-you-can-still-see-his-brow-bone hot?”“…Hot,” I muttered into the pillow.“And when he touched you… did it feel like he knew you were something rare? Like you were a limited edition made just for him?”I clenched my jaw. Didn’t answer.“Oh my god,” she breathed.“You actually slept with someone who was worth it.”I kept my eyes closed, and for some reason, that one sentence felt like a suture pulled gently over the tear in my chest.My parents’ voices still echoed in my head—sharp, suffocating, like burnt toast you couldn’t scrape off.The way they’d discarded me—so clinical, so composed. Like tossing out a baby bottle that had outlived its use.“Mira,” her voice shifted again, quieter, steadier. “You can do anything. Screw up, break down, love the wrong person—it’s all fine. But you can’t carry all of this alone anymore.”I said nothing.Just pulled my knees to my chest and pressed my face into them.“I’m here,” she whispered. “Wherever you go. Whatever you do. I’m here.”I didn’t cry.I swear I didn’t.I just clenched my jaw, shut my eyes tighter, and swallowed the words thank you like a pill I couldn’t quite get down.I glanced at the time.I had to go to work.Now that my parents had made it clear I was disposable, my job was the one thing I couldn’t afford to screw up.Of course, they believed I worked as a barista.They’d forbidden me from having a corporate job.In their minds, once married, I should be home full-time—a perfect little housewife.So I never told them what I really did.Dragging my exhausted body out the door, I headed to Ground & Pound—my workplace.The name? Chosen because the owner figured it had no real brand potential. Was it a sexy coffee shop? An underground MMA gym? Who knew? Who cared?But it was decent.Stable.And for now—safe.Well… until it no longer existed.“Mira.”My boss, Benny, greeted me like I was his parole officer—nervous, sweaty, probably two seconds away from peeing his pants.He was in his forties, wore a man bun that did no favors for his hairline, and his arms were covered in tattoos best described as regrettable—one of which included a goat wearing sunglasses.“You don’t need to be here today. I was just about to call you…” He stared at the floor. “You’re not on the schedule anymore.”Excuse me?“You’ve been… let go. I’m really sorry. I didn’t want to, but… I got a call. From your mom.”My stomach dropped.“She threatened to report us, said she’d have our license revoked if I didn’t fire you.” Benny kept staring at the floor. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t do anything.”“She runs a luxury skincare company, Benny. Not the goddamn FBI.”He shrugged helplessly. “She said she’d report us for health code violations. And you know she’s got connections. She could actually pull it off.”I took a deep breath. Yelling at Benny wouldn’t do anything. This wasn’t his fault.Before I did something stupid—like hurl a milk jug out the window—I stormed out.I didn’t hate that job. Being a barista was just a side hustle.What really paid the bills—what no one knew except Ivanna—was my jewelry design.Ever since I was a kid, my mom had told me I was average. Ordinary. Talentless. Every time I tried to shine, she dragged me back into her shadow.Eventually, I learned to obey. I buried my ambition, wore gray feathers like a peacock pretending to be a pigeon.So no, I didn’t care about losing the coffee shop job.What infuriated me wasn’t unemployment. It was that this—this power move—was her.Her fingerprints were all over it.It was her punishment. A response to me trying to escape Rhys. Trying to escape her.She was sending me a message:You don’t get to walk away.I can destroy any scrap of pride you think you’ve earned—with one finger.If she thought I’d come crawling back, like I used to, begging for her approval…She could go to hell.I wasn’t her puppet anymore.I was done playing the good girl.Thirty minutes later, I shoved open the front door of the Vance estate.No knocking. I didn’t care.I had come ready to start round two of our family war.What I found instead was something far worse.My parents were sitting on the ivory couch in the living room, sipping wine worth more than my rent, laughing—laughing—with a man I didn’t recognize.The scene was picturesque. Like they’d stepped right out of How to Host the Perfect Suburban Power Dinner.The man looked like a slimy, watered-down version of a 1950s mogul—maybe one who’d spent time in white-collar prison and came out with a tailor.Custom suit. Shirt unbuttoned to mid-chest, revealing a patch of chest hair that looked like someone had just trimmed a Christmas wreath.His teeth were too white, his smile too polished—like greed dipped in varnish.“Darling,” my mother cooed, sweet as syrup, “come meet Mr. Leonard Shaw, CEO of Alcott Shipping. A true self-made man. There’s so much you could learn from him—about turning raw talent into real success.”It hit like a scented hammer to the face.Leonard grinned ear to ear. His eyes—no, his eyes went straight under my skirt.“Lovely to meet you, Miss Vance,” he said. “I do hope we get to talk more. I always enjoy mentoring young women. Especially smart, beautiful ones like yourself.”I didn’t bother hiding my expression.It wasn’t disgust. It was nausea.He was practically licking his lips.I could hear the soundtrack of Indecent Proposal playing in his head.“Mira,” my mother warned in that sugar-coated threat tone, “don’t be rude. Shake Mr. Shaw’s hand.”I didn’t move. I didn’t even blink.If someone had thrown a raccoon at me in that moment, I’d have hugged it over touching Leonard’s hand.Caroline’s laugh rang out, high and brittle, like she was trying to cover up my resistance.“Young people are so sensitive these days, aren’t they?” she said to Leonard, with the practiced tone of someone saying she’ll come around.Leonard just waved it off. “I like a girl with a little fire.”Yeah, and I like dentists who don’t need pliers. We can’t all get what we want.And my father—the same man who, just days ago, told me “we’ll take care of everything”—was now nodding at Leonard like a hotel concierge hoping for a good tip.That’s when I understood.This wasn’t an introduction.It was a presentation.I was the product on display tonight.This wasn’t about meeting a “promising single man.”This was a sale. I was being marketed like a financial package with a bonus gift.When Leonard finally left—leaving behind a cloud of cologne and a trail of sleaze—I turned to face them.“What the hell was that?”My mother raised her wine glass, took a slow, triumphant sip.“That,” she said with a smile, “was your future husband.”

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You never thought you’d break an engagement over a mug. But there it was—chipped, ugly, with your sister Katherine’s face printed on the side. And Rhys, your billionaire fiancé, slapped you across the face for breaking it. Three minutes later, you walked out, engagement ring left on the table. Now, you’re drowning in whiskey at a nameless bar, your body still humming from the slap, your heart shattered by the truth: he never loved you. You were just a placeholder.

Then he appears.

The man from across the hall—tall, dangerous, with eyes that see too much. He doesn’t offer empty comfort. He doesn’t pretend to save you. He just says, 'You’re good at making a mess. But someone always shows up before it falls apart.'

You don’t think. You act.

You grab his wrist and pull him out the door. Into the night. Into a hotel. Into a bed where, for the first time, you feel seen—not as Rhys’s backup, not as Katherine’s shadow, but as you.

When you wake up, he’s standing in the bathroom doorway, towel low on his hips, water dripping down his abs. He looks at you and says, 'We need to talk.'

Then, calmly, as if discussing the weather: 'Will you marry me?'

Your phone rings. It’s your mother. Katherine’s back. And your parents have already chosen your next husband.