9. Lies

I changed into my fifth outfit of the evening, staring at myself in the mirror with frustration tightening my chest. Dresses, skirts, jeans, blouses—everything either felt too much or not enough. I didn’t know why I cared so much. This wasn’t a date. This was Xavier. My husband. The man who wore his indifference like armor and barely spared me more than a few clipped words.

And yet, there was this foreign warmth in my chest. A restlessness that made my palms sweat and my heartbeat race. It didn’t feel like dread. It didn’t feel like hatred. It felt… like home.

I hated it.

Finally, I settled on a soft cream dress, simple but delicate. My hair fell loose, brushing against my collarbone. My hands wouldn’t stop fidgeting, and I hated myself for waiting—like some lovesick fool—for the sound of his footsteps.

And then he came.

Xavier Russell walked into my room like he owned the air itself, his expression carved from stone. His white shirt clung to his shoulders, the sleeves rolled up, veins tracing his forearms. His tie was missing, and a faint trace of woody cologne followed him in, clean and sharp and devastatingly him.

Zero expression. Zero effort. And still, my heart forgot how to beat.

“Ready?” His deep voice broke through my haze.

I nodded, too fast, and grabbed my bag. He didn’t offer his arm. Of course, he didn’t. He shouldn't. He just walked ahead, and I followed, pretending it didn’t sting.

---

The drive was silent, the city lights bleeding into the tinted windows as we left the familiar behind. I wanted to ask where we were going, but something about his profile—sharp, unreadable—made me swallow the words. He looked like a man who had already decided everything.

The car slowed before a gated house tucked away in quiet seclusion. My brows furrowed as Xavier stepped out, circling the car, and opened my door. His hand rested lightly against the roof as he looked down at me.

“Why are we here? Who lives here?” I asked, suspicion thick in my voice.

“You’ll see,” he replied, his tone giving nothing away.

My stomach twisted as I followed him inside, heels clicking against polished wood floors. The moment my eyes landed on the figure in the living room, my world tilted.

Yuri.

My sister.

Her eyes widened before tears spilled down her cheeks, and I felt my own breath shatter. “Yuri…” My voice cracked as I stumbled forward and threw my arms around her. For one wild second, I held her close, my chest aching with relief and betrayal all at once.

Then I turned to Xavier, my gaze sharp, accusing. “What the fuck, Xavier? Did you know about this?”

His eyes flickered with something I couldn’t read. “I think I should leave you both to it. It would be better if your sister tells you herself.”

And just like that, he walked out, leaving me and Yuri standing there in a silence heavy enough to crush me.

“Layla,” Yuri began, her voice trembling. “There’s… so much I need to tell you.”

I crossed my arms, bracing myself. “Then tell me.”

She bit her lip, tears sliding down her cheeks. “I fell in love. I thought he was the one. And then I got pregnant. But he left me, Layla. He disappeared. I had no one. I wanted to run away from it all, but I couldn’t. That’s when Xavier stepped in. He told me we’d pretend to get married. At the last moment, I was supposed to disappear, and he promised he’d take care of everything. It wasn’t love. It was… an arrangement. He wanted his father off his back. I wanted a way out.”

I stared at her, my hands curling into fists. “And you never thought of me? You made a mistake, Yuri. You could have told me. I would’ve—”

“Oh, please, Layla!” she snapped, wiping her eyes. “Told you? You know how obsessive Mom is. If she found out, she would’ve forced me to get an abortion. You know she only cares about image. And look where you are right now! Even when I got away, she didn’t care about you. She only cared about what people would think.”

My chest burned. “Oh, so it’s Mom’s fault now?”

Yuri reached for me, her voice softer. “Layla, I understand. You’re a victim right now—”

“No, you don’t!” My voice cracked as the floodgates broke. “You don’t fucking understand! Every night when I close my eyes, I hear Liam’s voice calling me a cheater. You don’t know what that feels like, Yuri!”

Her lips trembled. “Layla, I think you have abandonment issues. Liam was never good for you. Xavier is. You should be hap—”

My blood boiled. “What the fuck?! The girl who got herself pregnant and abandoned by a man is now telling me to be happy—”

Slap.

The sting exploded across my cheek before I even registered her hand moving.

Yuri’s eyes blazed with anger. “I knew you would never understand.”

Tears blurred my vision, but I refused to let them fall. “After you ruined my life, I don’t think I owe you understanding anyway. Take care of yourself and your child, Yuri. But don’t ever come in front of me again.”

I spun on my heel and stormed out of the room, my breaths jagged, my chest heaving.

Xavier was waiting in the hallway. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes—those cold, unreadable eyes—were softer than I had ever seen them. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just studied me with an intensity that stripped me bare.

“Home?” he asked finally, his voice quiet.

A bitter laugh slipped out of me, sharp and broken. “You told me I can end this whenever I want, right?”

His jaw clenched, but he nodded once.

My fingers trembled as I slid the ring from my finger. The weight of it was heavier than I’d ever realized. I pressed it into his palm and forced the words out, my voice raw.

“I do.”

Then I walked past him, out of the house, out of the mess, out of everything.

Or at least, that’s what I told myself.