Married to my sister's fiancè

The room smelled faintly of lemons and rosemary. It was supposed to be calming, but to me, it felt suffocating—like every breath was a reminder of the life I had been pushed into. Xavier’s father, Mr. Russell, had been surprisingly composed about the entire scandal. He hadn’t humiliated my parents; he hadn’t lashed out in public. Instead, he had kept his voice steady, his dignity intact, only admitting quietly that he was “deeply disappointed in Yuri.” Then, in front of my mother, he had said that once the public’s memory faded, a divorce could be arranged. But Xavier— he didn't speak a single word. Only glances that threw daggers at me. Yuri and Xavier knew each other since past six months. It was so out of nowhere when she called a month back telling me she's getting married to someone she met 6 months back. But that's who Yuri was. Always chaotic, always the adventurous one. And look now, she's gone. Ran away. I shouldn't think about it so much and yet the silence made my ches

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was the ceiling—high, white, unfamiliar. The sheets beneath me were soft, expensive, scented faintly of cedar and linen. For a fleeting moment, I forgot where I was. And then my gaze shifted.He was there.Xavier Russell.Lying beside me, his arm resting lazily against the pillow, his face calm, unreadable. His side of the bed looked untouched, as if he had been there only to watch me, not to sleep.A shiver slid down my spine. This wasn’t my room. It was his. His world. His rules. I didn’t belong here—and yet I was bound to it by vows spoken in panic and duty.“You’re awake.” Xavier’s voice was smooth, deep, but edged with his familiar, icy detachment. He rose with effortless grace, pulling on his jacket. “There’s someone here to see you.”My throat tightened. “Who?”He didn’t answer. His dark eyes brushed mine for a fraction of a second before he stepped out.My pulse quickened, my mind racing through possibilities. My parents? My sister?

(Xavier’s POV)The crowd parted for me without a word. They always did. Power had a way of making space for itself, and I wore mine like a second skin. But as I closed the distance, my focus wasn’t on the investors, the cameras, or the whispers trailing behind me.It was on her.Laila.Head tipped against Adrian’s shoulder, drowning in his jacket. My cousin’s jacket. Her skin flushed, her movements slack, her perfume—wild and sweet—muddied with the sharp sting of whiskey.And Adrian… standing there like she belonged to him.A muscle ticked in my jaw as I shrugged off my tuxedo jacket. The weight of it slid down my arms, but the pressure in my chest only grew heavier.I didn’t stop until I stood in front of him. He didn’t move. Didn’t even look ashamed. His eyes locked with mine like a challenge.My voice was calm, but the edge was razor-sharp. “She doesn’t need your jacket.”I slipped it from her shoulders, slow, deliberate. My fingers brushed silk and skin—her skin—warm and tremblin

[Xavier's POV]Her body writhed under my mouth, every sound she made burning me alive. She was so close—too close. I could feel it in the way her thighs trembled, in the way her fingers tugged my hair like I was her lifeline.And then I stopped.Her gasp was sharp, her pout instant. “Why…?” Her voice cracked, half-cry, half-demand.I kissed the inside of her thigh instead, rolling my sleeves down with a curse under my breath. “Because you’re drunk, Laila. And tomorrow, you’ll hate both of us if I don’t stop tonight.”Before she could argue, I scooped her up into my arms bridal-style. Her head fell against my chest, her body already heavy with exhaustion. She mumbled my name, soft, needy, and it carved straight through my chest.“Sleep,” I whispered, carrying her through the halls.The maid hurried to open her door. I gave her a single look. “Change her into something comfortable. Make sure she rests.”The girl nodded quickly, and I laid Laila gently on her bed before leaving. My fists

#Xavier's POVThe echo of her heels faded down the hallway, and for the first time in years, I felt something I hated—hollow. Empty. Like something vital had been carved out of my chest with a rusty blade.She didn't look back. Not once.‘God, please look back. Just once.’But she didn't. And that single act of indifference shattered something inside me that I didn't even know could break.Layla had placed the ring in my palm as if it weighed nothing, as if 'I' were nothing. The gold band felt impossibly heavy now, like it carried the weight of every moment we'd shared, every glance, every breath we'd stolen together. My fist closed around it, the metal biting into my skin until I bled. The pain was welcome—it was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality."Finally."The voice behind me was trembling, weak, pathetic. Yuri. Her swollen eyes were red from tears, her face pale but daring to smile through the aftermath of her destruction."You're free now, Xavier," she whispered, and