CHAPTER 3: The Man I Hate

Maya

The silence stretches long enough that someone clears their throat behind me. I yank my dress free from the tablecloth and take a step back, my bare feet sliding on the scattered wine stains.

“Maya.” My mom’s voice is closer now, she’s weaving through the crowd toward me, her silver dress catching the light with every step. “I didn’t think you’d come. I’m so glad you did.”

“I didn’t come for you.” My eyes stay locked on him as he moves beside her, his steps slow and calculated. “I was tricked.”

He stops just a few feet away, close enough that I can see the way his tuxedo fits perfectly, tailored to every line of his body. He’s even taller up close, and the height makes me tilt my head back to meet his gaze. The angle sends a strange jolt up my spine that I push down hard.

“Monica,” he says, his voice low and smooth as whiskey. “You didn’t tell me your daughter was so… striking. The photos you showed me don’t do her justice.”

“Don’t.” The word comes out sharper than I mean it to. My hands clench at my sides, nails digging into my palms hard enough to leave marks. “I don’t need compliments from you. I don’t need anything from you.”

His eyebrows lift just a hair… barely noticeable, but enough to make me feel like he’s looking right through me. “I wasn’t aware we’d met. I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.”

“You ruined my family.” The words burst out before I can stop them, hot and raw. “You’re the reason she left my dad. Don’t pretend you don’t know what you did. Don’t stand there acting like you’re some kind of hero.”

My mom reaches for my arm, her fingers cool against my skin. “Maya, that’s not true, you don’t understand what happened…”

“Is it?” I pull away from her touch, taking a step closer to him. “Two months after the divorce and you’re engaged to him. How long were you two together before she signed the papers? A week? A month? Did you take her to fancy restaurants while Dad was sitting at home wondering what he did wrong?”

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t raise his voice. Just looks at me with eyes the color of dark coffee, steady and calm in a way that makes me want to scream.

“I understand you’re angry,” he says, his voice even but firm. “And I understand why you’d blame me. But you’re wrong about what happened. Monica and I didn’t start seeing each other until after her divorce was final.”

“Am I supposed to believe that?” I laugh, but it comes out sounding more like a sob. “You expect me to think you just happened to fall in love with her the day after she left my dad? That’s some fairy tale you’re selling.”

“I don’t expect you to believe anything right now.” He takes a small step forward, and I can smell his cologne, something intoxicating and expensive like pine needles and rain after a hot day. “But I’d ask you to give me a chance to explain before you make up your mind about me.”

“I don’t need a chance. I already know what you are.”

“Maya, please…” My mom starts, but a voice cuts in from behind us, warm, easy, and identical to his.

“Now, now. No need for fireworks at a party, right? Especially not when there’s perfectly good champagne to be drunk.”

I spin around so fast my dress twists around my legs.

Standing there is another man. Same silver-streaked hair, same sharp jawline, same height and build. The only difference is his clothes—he’s in a dark velvet jacket over an open-collared white shirt instead of a tux, and there’s smudges of blue paint under his fingernails. He grins as he looks me up and down, his eyes lingering on the slit of my dress before meeting mine with a spark of something I can’t place.

“Wait… there are two of them?”

My mom laughs—a little nervous, a little relieved as she moves to stand between us. “Maya, this is Ethan. Philip’s twin brother. Ethan, this is my daughter.”

Ethan steps forward and takes my hand before I can pull away, bringing it to his lips and pressing a light kiss to my knuckles. His lips are warm against my skin, and the touch sends a jolt through me that has nothing to do with anger.

“Pleasure to meet you, Maya,” he says, his gaze never leaving mine. “Though I wish it were under better circumstances. My brother has a habit of making a bad first impression.”

“I’m not the one causing a scene,” Philip says, his voice sharp now… sharper than I’ve heard it yet.

“Causing a scene is better than causing silence.” Ethan winks at me, still holding my hand. “Would you like a drink? I promise I’m much better company than this one.”

I pull my hand back like I’ve been burned. When I look at Philip again, his jaw is tight.