I knew something was wrong the second I stepped into his apartment.
It was too quiet.
He always had something playing, jazz, old R&B, sometimes even classical when he was working late. Tonight? Nothing. Just silence. Except… no. Not silence.
A laugh.
I froze in the middle of the living room, the gift bag biting into my palm. It was muffled, soft, but I knew that laugh. I'd grown up with it, I'd heard it across hallways, in the middle of fights, in the background of family dinners.
My sister's laugh.
No. No, I was imagining things. It couldn't be. It couldn't.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to breathe, forcing my legs to move. My My throat was so tight it hurt to swallow.
And then I heard what sounded like a moan. A moan.
My stomach turned cold. The bag slipped from my hand, crashing onto the marble, the bottle of whiskey shattering, glass skittering everywhere, liquid pouring out like it was mocking me.
My feet carried me forward before my brain could catch up. I knew I should turn around. I knew I should leave. But I couldn't. I had to see.
The door was open just a crack.
And I pushed it open
And my world shattered.
He was there. The man I was supposed to marry, the man I thought was mine. His body tangled with hers. Sheets twisted around their legs. His mouth on her throat. His hands gripping her like he couldn't get enough of her.
And her face, my sister's smug, satisfied face eyes half-lidded, lips parted, smiling when she saw me.
The sound that tore out of me didn't even sound human.n
They froze. His face went pale, scrambling like a coward, fumbling for the sheet. "Wait—baby—"
But she didn't even flinch. She leaned back against the pillows, hair messy, lipstick smeared across her cheek, like she'd won a game she'd been playing all along.
"You....." My voice cracked, my chest heaving like I couldn't drag in enough air. My hand gripped the doorframe so hard I thought I might snap the wood. "How could you...."
"It's not what you think I promise, it's not what it looks like. " he stuttered, his face panicked, desperate.
It sounded so funny I laughed. A sharp, broken sound that scraped out of my throat and burned. Because he sounded so cliche with what he just said. "Not what it looks like? Should I wait outside so you can finish and then maybe explain it better?"
Her smile widened. She tilted her head like she pitied me. "Don't act surprised. You never knew how to keep him. Someone had to."
Her words sliced me open. My knees buckled. My lungs burned, and all I could think was this can't be real. Not him not with her. Not like this.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to claw her face until that smug little smile was gone. I wanted to punch him until his mouth bled the way mine did on the inside. But I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. My whole body was shaking too hard.
I swallowed the tears burning in my throat and forced my chin up. If they were going to break me, they wouldn't get to watch me shatter.
"You two," I whispered, my voice raw, shaking. "You deserve each other."
And then I walked out before they saw me collapse.
The bag was still on the floor. My heel caught a shard of glass, slicing through the thin sole. Blood filled my shoe with every step, warm and sticky. I didn't care and I didn't stop.
I drove without seeing. The city lights blurred, my hands gripping the wheel so tight my knuckles turned white. I bit down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, anything to stop the sobs clawing their way up.
By the time I got to my parents' house, my face was dry. Hollow. Like there was nothing left inside me to cry.
The butler opened the door. His eyes flicked to the blood on my ankle, then away, pretending he hadn't seen.
I walked into my father's study. He didn't even stand. He sat there with a glass of scotch like always, his expression calm, cold.
"So," he said, taking a slow sip, "the engagement is over."
I stared at him, my throat raw. "I caught him. With her father. "
My mother didn't even blink. She adjusted her bracelet, diamonds catching the light like they were the only thing that mattered. "Your sister has always had… charm. She knows how to keep a man. You should've tried harder."
I staggered back like she'd slapped me. "She betrayed me! He betrayed me! And you're just..."
"Enough." My father's voice cut through mine, sharp and final. He set the glass down with a soft clink. "You think the board will take you seriously without a husband? Without stability? No marriage, no company. You're not ready."
My nails dug into my palms, the pain grounding me. "You're taking her side?"
His eyes finally lifted to mine. Cold. Flat. "You lost him. You weren't able to keep him she did."
I looked to my mother. Begging, stupidly, silently. But she only gave me a thin, dismissive smile. "Your sister has always been stronger than you."
The knife twisted. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't cry. I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But not in front of them.
I forced the words out, low and shaking. "Fine. I'll marry someone else."
My father smirked, lifting his glass again. "Good girl. Do it quickly. You know you have only a few weeks left before the board decides to give the position to someone else."
That night, I lay awake in my apartment, staring at the ceiling. The silence pressed down on me until it roared in my ears. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw it again—his body over hers, her satisfied little smile, my parents' cold, cruel faces.
Tears leaked into my pillow. My chest hurt so badly I thought it might split. I pressed my fist against my mouth to muffle the sobs that broke out anyway.
But underneath the grief, underneath the humiliation, something else was taking root.
Rage.
Hot. Sharp. Alive.
If they wanted me to marry someone powerful, fine. I would. But it wouldn't be their choice. It would be mine.
And I knew exactly who.
The boy I once humiliated. The boy I'd been told wasn't good enough.
He wasn't a boy anymore.
And when I walked back into his life, I would ask him to marry me.