chapter 6

The Morning After the Lie

The sunlight bled through the thin white curtains in long golden streaks, painting the floorboards with a warmth that felt cruelly out of place.

Ryan stirred first. He shifted on the king-sized bed, the crisp linen rustling beneath him. His eyelids fluttered open, heavy with sleep and something else he couldn’t name yet. For a moment, the world was hazy, silent, soft.

Then his gaze fell to the figure beside him.

Sandra lay curled on her side, her dark hair fanned across the pillow like a shadow against snow. Her breathing was slow, steady, peaceful. The red mark on her neck from his kiss the night before was still faintly visible. The blanket had slipped down, revealing the bare curve of her shoulder.

Ryan blinked twice.

Something dark had stained the white sheet beneath her.

His breath caught in his throat.

Blood

A single, small drop. Deep crimson against the pristine white.

Confusion slammed into him first, sharp and cold. Then shock, thick and suffocating. His mind reeled backward, trying to stitch together the fragments of last night.

The champagne.

The way her lips trembled under his.

The way she had whispered his name like it was both a prayer and a curse.

The way her fingers had clutched at his shirt as if he was the only thing anchoring her to the earth.

The memories flooded back in waves the heat of her skin, the softness of her sighs, the way she had surrendered to him completely, without armor, without walls.

And then it hit him, sudden and undeniable.

She was a virgin.

The realization settled in his chest like a stone. He exhaled sharply, almost a whisper. Sandra

He didn’t know why he said her name. Maybe to convince himself it was real. Maybe to make sure she was still there.

Carefully, almost hesitantly, he reached out and tapped her shoulder.

Sandra stirred. Her eyelashes fluttered, and her eyes opened hazy at first, then instantly alert when they met his.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. The air between them was thick, heavy with unspoken things. Regret. Confusion. Something fragile that neither of them dared to name.

Then Sandra sat up abruptly, the blanket slipping from her shoulders. She didn’t meet his eyes. She couldn’t. Her cheeks were flushed, not from passion, but from shame and vulnerability. Without a word, she slid out of bed, her legs trembling slightly as her bare feet touched the cold floor.

She didn’t look at him as she grabbed her robe and slipped it on, tying it tightly around her waist as if she was trying to hold herself together.

Good morning, she murmured, her voice hoarse, barely above a whisper.

And then she walked toward the door, head lowered, shoulders hunched, like someone trying to disappear.

Ryan watched her go, his jaw tightening. His eyes dropped to the stained sheet again. He didn’t call her back. He didn’t know what to say. Instead, he nodded once to himself and swung his legs over the bed, heading straight for the bathroom. The water needed to wash away more than just sleep.

The house was quiet when Sandra reached the kitchen. Too quiet.

She needed noise. She needed something to drown out the ringing in her ears, the ache in her chest, the phantom feeling of Ryan’s hands on her skin.

She changed into a fitted red dress that clung to her frame like a second skin. The color was bold, defiant. It wasn’t because she felt beautiful. It was because she refused to look broken. _Not sad, not happy. Just… standing.That was all she could manage right now.

She walked into the kitchen, head high, trying to act normal, trying to pretend the night hadn’t shattered something inside her.

That’s when it happened.

Watch it

A cold splash hit her chest before she could react.

Jasmine stood there, a tall glass of iced orange juice still dripping from her fingers. Her eyes were narrowed, her lips twisted into a smirk of satisfaction.

You bitch,Jasmine spat, her voice sharp like broken glass. How dare you splash this on me?

Sandra blinked, water droplets sliding down her red dress, darkening the fabric.

You finally have him to yourself all night, right Jasmine stepped closer, her voice rising with venom. You godforsaken animal. One night with him, and you think he’ll love you? Pathetic.

Sandra’s fingers clenched at her sides. The words cut deep, but this time, they didn’t break her. There were no tears yet. No trembling. Just a cold, steady fire in her chest.

Jasmine jabbed a manicured finger toward the floor. Go get something to clean this up. Now.

For a second, the kitchen held its breath.

Sandra lifted her head slowly. Her eyes met Jasmine’s no longer downcast, no longer afraid. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. It was a small, bitter smile, the kind that came from someone who had nothing left to lose.

I’m sorry I accidentally splashed the juice on you, Sandra said, her voice calm, measured. But cleaning it up that’s something I cannot do.

The words hung in the air like a challenge.

Jasmine’s face turned red with fury. How dare

Kpaa.

The slap came from behind, swift and stinging.

Sandra’s head snapped to the side from the force. Pain exploded across her cheek, hot and immediate. She staggered slightly but didn’t fall. Her hand flew to her face, fingers trembling as tears welled up in her eyes not from Jasmine, but from him

Ryan stood behind her now, his expression hard, unreadable. His hand was still raised from the strike.

Sandra turned slowly, holding her cheek as tears spilled down her face in silent streams. She didn’t cry out. She didn’t beg. She just stared at him, right into his eyes, as if trying to find the man who had held her so tenderly just hours ago.

That man was gone.

A command from her is also a command from me, Ryan said coldly, his voice devoid of warmth. Respect her at all cost.

And with that, he turned away, slipping his left hand around Jasmine’s waist possessively. Jasmine shot Sandra a victorious smirk before deliberately stepping on Sandra’s bare foot as she walked past, her heel grinding down with cruel intent.

The pain shot up Sandra’s leg, but she didn’t flinch.

She just stood there, frozen, as Ryan and Jasmine walked away together, their laughter echoing down the hallway like a dagger twisting in her heart.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Sandra’s knees felt weak. Her heart shattered into a thousand pieces, each shard cutting deeper than the last. She remembered every touch from last night the way Ryan had caressed her hair, the way he had whispered her name like she was something precious, the way his hands had trembled as if he was afraid of hurting her.

Now those same hands had struck her. For her

The tears came harder now, silent and relentless, streaming down her face and dripping onto the red dress, mixing with the orange juice stain. She didn’t wipe them away. She let them fall. Let them remind her that she was still alive, still feeling, even if it felt like her soul was being torn apart.

The same hands that once caressed my body… now hit me to please his beloved.

The thought broke her completely. A sob escaped her lips, quiet at first, then uncontrollable. She collapsed against the kitchen counter, shoulders shaking as she cried without sound, without dignity, without hope.

And then

Her stomach churned violently.

Sandra gasped, clutching her abdomen as a wave of nausea hit her like a tidal wave. She barely made it to the bathroom before she doubled over the sink, vomiting until her throat burned and her eyes watered.

The red dress clung to her soaked body. Her hair fell in damp strands around her face. And there, on her knees in the cold bathroom floor, Sandra finally let herself break.