16

His grin didn’t drop. If anything, it widened. “Relax. It’s not like I hacked your files.”

“Then talk.”

He shrugged casually, like I hadn’t just threatened to break his jaw. “Amy’s sister told me.”

My brows furrowed. “Amy’s what now?”

“Her sister. Mia,” he said with a smirk, dragging the name out slowly. “She talks when she’s drunk. And Amy… let’s just say she vents to her sister when she’s not busy being a pain in the ass.”

I let go of his shirt, but my eyes never left his face. “And Amy just casually told her sister about my private marriage arrangement?”

Brian gave a mock-innocent shrug. “Well, apparently, Amy said something about ‘fake marriage drama’ and how she’s tired of pretending like it doesn’t bother her. Mia heard it, Mia told me. Lucky me, huh?”

I stared at him, my jaw tight, head ticking.

Then, the idiot said it again.

“But I’m serious, Nate. Let me date Ivy.”

I blinked. “What?”

“I’ll keep it low-key. No media, no drama just me and her. I like her vibe. And come on, you’re not even—”

WHAM.

My fist met his jaw before he could finish that sentence.

He stumbled back, catching himself against the armrest, one hand on his cheek. “Ooooh,” he said, grinning like a lunatic. “You like her.”

“Shut up.”

His eyes danced. “You so like her.”

“You’re a flirt,” I snapped, stepping toward him again. “You change girls like guitar picks. You’re not going near my wife.”

“But you just said she’s not really—”

I pointed toward the door. “You may be a star out there, Brian, but in here? You’re nothing. Walk out, or I’ll have security bounce your ass.”

He held up his hands, smirking. “Fine, fine. Message received, Big Brother.”

He turned, walked toward the door, but right before stepping out, he twisted around and cupped his hands like a megaphone:

“Ivy, I LOVE YOU!”

The sound echoed through the walls like a fire alarm.

I closed my eyes.

Counted to five.

Scoffed.

Then turned and walked upstairs—because if I stayed one more second in that living room, someone was going through a window.

THREE MONTHS LATER

Ivy’s POV

Three months.

That’s how long it’s been since everything changed.

Since I went from dodging overdue rent and working two jobs… to sleeping on a bed that probably cost more than my entire childhood home.

Three months of penthouse living, silk sheets, and having a husband whose moods change faster than the stock market.

Three months of trying to figure out if I was still me in the middle of all this luxury.

The cup in my hand had long gone lukewarm, but I held it anyway,if only to give my fingers something to do while I smiled at strangers and nodded at conversations I wasn't really part of.

We were at another party. One of Nathan’s business associates, apparently celebrating some new merger or yacht purchase or… I don’t even remember anymore. Somewhere along the line, I stopped keeping count of these events. I swear, rich people throw more parties than college freshmen.

I adjusted the strap of my dress and shifted my weight, letting my eyes drift across the room. Champagne flutes. Glimmering dresses. Too much perfume. Everyone looked like they belonged,except me.

But I was getting better at faking it.

I’d gotten better at a lot of things lately.

Like walking in heels without looking like a newborn deer. Or plastering on that perfect ‘trophy wife’ smile when reporters asked for pictures. Or pretending I didn’t mind that I couldn’t leave the penthouse without Nathan’s say-so anymore.

Ever since the kidnapping, Nathan’s paranoia had gone through the roof. He claimed it was about safety and public image,his reputation.

He didn’t say it outright, but it was there. In the way his jaw ticked when I mentioned going out alone. In the way Desmond suddenly became my unofficial shadow when Nathan wasn’t around.

Still, I couldn’t complain too much.

Nathan had made sure my parents were okay. I got to check in on them now and then, making surprise visits with small gifts and big smiles. I didn’t tell them everything, obviously,how do you explain that your marriage feels like both a golden cage and a stage performance?

In the penthouse, things had fallen into a kind of routine. Quiet mornings. Lavish evenings. Awkward silences and occasional tension so thick you could cut it with one of the overpriced knives in our designer kitchen.

I won't pretend that I don't miss my baby,Tina. She was transferred back to the city she used to work.

Nathan had become more busy with work. Most of the time ,I got to see him only when we are breakfast in the morning and dinner at night. That

And still… it bugged me.

That massive penthouse, five floors high, and only one servant?

Theresa was amazing,sharp, kind, always composed but how could one woman manage that entire space on her own?

It didn’t bother me at first. But now?

Now I have questions.

Like… why were there so many locked cabinets? Why did Theresa always look slightly nervous whenever I wandered too far down the east hallway? Why was there one room, just one, that I couldn’t get into? My key card worked for every other part of the house except that door.

I didn’t even know what was behind it.

And yeah, I get it,rich people like their privacy. But I lived there now. I had my own drawer full of designer lingerie I didn’t pick and a closet Nathan told me to “fill responsibly.” I should at least know what was behind every door in my own damn home.

Right?

I took another sip from my drink, eyes scanning the room once more as laughter bubbled from some corner where Nathan was likely holding court with men who wore watches that cost more than my soul.

Three months.

And I still wasn’t sure if I was growing into this life… or disappearing beneath it.

“Hey there, sunshine.”

I turned at the sound of his voice,smooth, teasing, unmistakable.

Brian Blake.

In all his annoyingly charismatic glory, standing in front of me with a drink in one hand and that easy, star-quality grin that made teenage girls across the country swoon.

If I was told that I would get to meet my celebrity crush just once in my life, I'd argue way more that a lawyer that was promised 90% of a lawsuit proceeds. However,here I am,not once but twice meeting him face-to-face.

“Brian,” I said, blinking. “What are you doing here?”

He looked down at himself, mock-surprised. “I think I clean up well for someone crashing a party.”

I gave him a look.

He laughed. “Okay, okay. I was invited,relax. These events are just rich people patting themselves on the back. I got the invite this morning.”

Of course he did.

His gaze shifted across the room and landed where mine kept drifting against my will,Nathan, standing tall and stoic, surrounded by people in suits and expensive watches. Amy was glued to his side, her hand looped possessively around his arm like she came with the suit.

To be honest,I haven't heard or seen Amy for months until now. I low-key hoped that she had nothing to do with Nathan anymore but ooppps!

Brian chuckled. “You’re not jealous that she’s with him?”

I blinked, snapped out of my stare. “Jealous? Of what?”

He raised a brow, clearly amused.

I folded my arms and forced a scoff. “They’re all probably just showing off about their new acquisitions. Look at them,trading brands, fake smiles, and overpriced compliments like it’s a damn auction.”

Brian tilted his head. “So you’re saying you’re one of Nathan’s possessions now?”

I didn’t answer that because,what reply was he expecting?

Brian kept my company,more like wanting to know what's going on in my marriage. I knew what he was up to so I didn't satisfy his ego until.....

“I like you, Ivy,” he said, voice softer now.

I smiled politely, about to sip my drink. “Thank you, brother-in-law.”

His eyes didn’t budge. “No. Not like that.”

I paused, glass halfway to my lips.

He took a breath. “I mean… I like like you. Love you, actually.”

The drink hit the back of my throat the wrong way.

I choked hard,coughing into my elbow while trying not to spit champagne all over my dress. A few heads turned. I waved them off with one hand, eyes wide, dying a little inside.

“Excuse me?” I rasped, still wheezing.

Brian chuckled lightly, almost like he’d been waiting for that reaction. “I figured that might shock you.”

Shock wasn’t even the word. I was derailed.

“Brian…” I started slowly, choosing my words like they were landmines, “you do realize your brother is my husband, right?”

He shrugged. “Only on paper. Don’t pretend I’m the only one who sees that.”

I stared at him, completely thrown. My heart was racing.

“Look,” he continued, still maddeningly calm, “I know I’m not supposed to say this. I know it’s complicated. But I also know how I feel.

My lips parted but nothing came out.

He sighed, stepping a little closer. “I don’t want to mess things up. I just… needed to say it. Before it eats me up.”

“Since when?“ I didn't even wait to hear his response when I took off. I needed to cool my head.