Chapter 1

Lisa Simpson thought it was strange. What had gotten into Mark Powell last night? Why had he been so rough with her in bed, like he’d lost control?

By morning, she had her answer.

Her brother-in-law was getting engaged.

And the bride-to-be was the woman Mark had never gotten over.

In simple terms, the woman Mark loved but could never have was about to marry his own younger brother.

How ironic.

Thinking back to the way Mark had gripped her waist the night before, eyes red, moving against her like he was trying to prove something, Lisa suddenly felt nothing but bitterness.

She walked downstairs. Mark was already dressed and ready to leave.

At nearly six-foot-three, he had a presence that filled the room without trying. Years in power made people focus on his authority before they ever noticed his features.

But the truth was, Mark was strikingly handsome. Even when his face was cold and unreadable, there was no hiding it. Broad shoulders. Narrow waist. Long legs wrapped in tailored fabric that emphasized strength and control.

Lisa had always known that as the eldest son of the Powell family, Mark was disciplined, reserved, almost rigid in his self-control.

It often felt like nothing in the world could stir his emotions.

Except that woman.

Lisa forced down the sting in her chest and walked straight past him toward the dining room without looking his way.

Mark’s dark eyes swept over her once. Then he lowered his gaze, adjusted his cufflinks, and walked out.

They didn’t exchange a single word.

When the door closed, Lisa let out a quiet, bitter laugh. The ache in her chest spread slowly, thread by thread.

She had thought she could live with a marriage that was polite but cold.

What she hadn’t expected was to fall for him anyway. Slowly. Helplessly.

She picked at her breakfast, barely tasting it, staring off into space.

Her phone rang. She answered, stood up immediately. “I’m on my way.”

By afternoon, Lisa was exhausted at the research institute.

She used to work seamlessly with her former partner, William Lincoln. Out of nowhere, he’d been transferred. The new arrival, Mr. Watsons, wasn’t great with data. That meant Lisa was now doing the work of two people.

On top of everything weighing on her mind, it was draining.

When she finally checked her phone, she saw a message from Mark.

Five short, emotionless words: Come back to the main house tonight.

Lisa could guess why. Nick Powell’s engagement was probably being announced.

Nick was Mark’s younger half-brother.

Annie Mendes was the woman Mark had never stopped thinking about.

Two brothers in love with the same woman.

Tonight’s family dinner… was bound to be interesting.

When Lisa arrived at the Powell family estate, she was just about to step inside when she spotted Mark and Annie near the corner of the courtyard.

They were too far away for her to hear what they were saying.

But she saw Mark hand Annie a gift bag.

Annie’s smile was soft and glowing, sweet in a way that made her look almost fragile. She tilted her delicate face up at him, wearing that helpless, heart-tugging expression Lisa had seen so many times before.

From where Lisa stood, she could see Mark’s profile. The sharp bridge of his nose. The firm line of his jaw. The faint curve at the corner of his lips.

A smile he had never once given her.

Her heart felt like it had been dropped into a bowl of acid—sour, sharp, and burning all at once.

Lisa dug her nails into her palm, forced herself to look away, and started up the steps.

Her heels clicked softly against the stone.

Mark turned at the sound. The faint smile he’d been wearing was already gone. His eyes were cool again, his face unreadable.

Lisa kept her gaze straight ahead and pushed the door open.

Mark stepped aside to leave.

Annie called out softly, “Mark, do you have time tomorrow afternoon? Nick has to see his advisor. Could you take me to the vet?”

Mark’s voice was low. “I have a meeting tomorrow afternoon… I’ll check. Go inside first. It’s cold out here.”

Annie smiled. “You go in first. I’ll call Nick.”

As Mark walked away, Annie’s lips curved upward. There was confidence in that smile. She looked completely sure of herself.

The moment Lisa stepped inside, Jane’s voice cut across the room.

“We invite you to dinner and still have to call you three times? What kind of attitude is that?”

Lisa looked up.

Jane sat on the sofa in a silk dress, perfectly composed, every inch the polished society wife. Only her words gave her away.

You married into the Powell family,” Jane continued. “Anyone watching would think you run the place. You’re a wife, Lisa. But you’re never home taking care of your husband. Cooking for him. Cleaning. You’re not building a family. Instead, you’re out there chasing your own career. What exactly do you think your role is?”

The room went quiet.

The Powell family had built its name over decades. After Mark’s grandfather passed away, it was Mark who stepped up and took over the company. He’d carried the weight of the business ever since.

Jane had never liked that.

As his stepmother, she’d always wanted her own son to inherit more of the power. And if she couldn’t undermine Mark directly, she would start with his wife.

Years ago, when Mark’s grandfather insisted on the marriage, most people thought Lisa’s family background wasn’t a match for the Powells.

Jane had been the only one secretly pleased.

The lower Lisa’s status, the easier it would be for her own son to marry well and gain leverage.

And Annie? Annie was perfect in Jane’s eyes.

The Mendes family had money and connections. Two powerful older brothers who doted on their only sister. That meant influence. Backing. Advantage.

Next to that, Lisa was nothing.

And when no one stopped her, Jane didn’t bother hiding what she thought.

She had just finished speaking when a shadow fell behind Lisa.

Mark.

He stepped up behind her and placed a hand lightly against her lower back. His voice was cool, controlled.

“Why are you standing here? Go inside.”

Lisa moved away from his touch without looking at him. She slipped off her heels and walked further into the house.

Mark’s hand dropped. His fingers curled slowly into a fist.

Jane stood up immediately, her expression smoothing into a practiced smile.

“Mark, you’re back. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Mark looked at her. His tone didn’t rise, but it turned cold enough to freeze the room.

“Why are you in here?”

Jane blinked.

“Shouldn’t you be in the kitchen?” he continued calmly. “Isn’t that what you just said? That once a woman marries into this family, she should stay home taking care of her husband. Cooking for him. Cleaning.”