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Sloane's POV

That midnight, I was in a bedroom that wasn’t mine.

The darkness felt thicker here, heavier somehow, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.

I sat at the edge of the bed wearing a white wedding nightie so transparent it barely deserved the name.

The thin fabric clung to every curve, the hard points of my nipples clearly visible even in the low light, the hem brushing the tops of my bare thighs.

Nothing underneath. Not even a scrap of lace.

My skin prickled with awareness, every soft shift of the nightie against me feeling far too intimate for a room that still smelled faintly of polished wood and unfamiliar cologne.

The door creaked open with a soft click, and the lights flared on, flooding the room in sudden brightness.

I squinted against it. The man who stepped inside was tall, his dark hair slightly disordered, his tie loosened and hanging crooked around his neck.

The top buttons of his white shirt were undone, revealing a strip of tanned skin and the faint shadow of his collarbone.

He staggered once as he moved toward me, the motion unsteady but purposeful, like a man who had been drinking steadily all evening and no longer cared who noticed.

The sharp, expensive scent of whiskey reached me first.

I had to stand up quickly with the same quiet obedience that had carried me through the entire day.

But he was faster, in three long strides he closed the distance between us, one strong arm snaking around my waist and yanking me hard against him.

His mouth landed on the side of my neck—hot, open, wet.

He kissed me there with deliberate pressure, lips parting, tongue tasting the skin just beneath my ear.

The wet heat of it sent a strange, unwanted shiver straight down my spine.

God. Something stirred inside me that I couldn’t explain.

A low, treacherous heat that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the way his body pressed against mine. Before I could even think of pushing him away, he moved.

He spun me with surprising strength, my front body hitting the wall with a dull thud. The nightie was shoved roughly up over my hips. Cool air kissed the bare skin of my ass for half a second—and then the thick, blunt head of his cock pressed against me.

He pushed inside my ass in one long, relentless stroke.

My eyes widened.

A sharp, broken sound tore from my throat as the stretch burned deep and sudden, forcing me open around him.

He was big, thicker than I know, and he didn’t stop until his hips were flush against me. One hand gripped my hip hard enough to bruise. The other came down in a stinging spank across my ass that made me jerk forward onto him.

He pulled out of me slowly, the drag of it making my breath catch, then turned me roughly to face him.

His mouth smashed against mine in a fierce, whiskey-sour kiss—all teeth and demand.

I tried to push him off, palms flat against the hard wall of his chest, but he was far stronger than me.

His hands held me easily, body pinning mine to the wall, the heat of him still pressed between us as if the interruption had only made him more determined.

My name is Sloane Vex, the eldest daughter of the Vex family. The last option. The daughter they could dismiss at any time without anyone losing sleep over it.

I wasn’t the type to be forced into marrying someone I had never wanted. I have always believed that particular fate would simply pass me by.

But thanks to my parents, it happened successfully—quietly, efficiently, and without a single thought for what I might have wanted.

It started three weeks earlier.

An ordinary Tuesday afternoon when the late summer heat made the old house feel stifling.

I was in the small sitting room no one else ever used, trying to lose myself in a book I had already read twice, when Lark appeared in the doorway.

She looked perfect, as always—golden hair falling in soft waves, a pale pink dress that somehow made her seem both delicate and expensive. For once she wasn’t wearing the usual expression of mild contempt she reserved for me.

“Please can you do me a favour?” she asked.

That was the first time she had spoken nicely to me in years.

I stayed silent. I didn’t want to talk to her. Years of careful distance had taught me that answering her only invited more trouble.

She stepped farther into the room and closed the door behind her with a quiet click.

“I know I’ve always been rude to you,” she said, her voice softer than I had heard it in a long time. “But I can’t marry Kaelan. I love Maxwell and I want to run off with him.”

She went straight to the point.

I lowered the book slowly. “What? Aren’t you in love with Kaelan?”

She rolled her eyes, a flash of the familiar Lark returning for a second. “I don’t love him. Don’t you know I have a boyfriend? Oh come on, are you going to help me or not?”

Kaelan Thorne was the only son of the Thorne family, the richest family in the city.

My father owed them a debt large enough to ruin us completely. But because Kaelan had taken a liking to Lark, his family was willing to erase the entire amount in exchange for her hand in marriage. The arrangement had been presented as a perfect solution. No one had asked Lark how she felt about it.

“I cannot go against Father and Mother,” I said carefully. “You and I know very well that all the blame will fall on me.”

“Sloane, please just help me,” she pleaded.

“I can’t help you if it’s about Kaelan and Maxwell stuff…”

“Please help me,” she said again, this time with a small pout that looked almost genuine.

I stared at her. “What do you even want me to do?”

She reached out and held my hand, her fingers cool and insistent. “Take my place at the altar, please.”

My eyes widened in shock.

“What?” I shook my head hard. “I can’t do that. No, no, Lark, that’s impossible. I can’t even imagine doing that.”

“Please,” she said, tears suddenly gathering in her eyes. “I need to run off. I need to go. Maxwell is the one I love.”

“No, Lark. It will cause a lot of trouble.” I pulled my hand free of her grip and shook my head again.

“I’m begging you, Sloane. You know I’ve never begged you for anything before.”

She was right. Lark had never asked me for anything in her life. She had demanded, ignored, dismissed but never begged me. The fact that she was doing it now felt strange and almost alarming.

I couldn’t even imagine going against my parents, especially not by taking my sister’s place at the altar. They would never forgive it. They might never even believe it had been her idea.

“If you’re going to do something like that,” I began, “I guess I’ll tell Mom and Dad…”

“Hey, don’t be foolish,” she cut in, confidence flooding back into her voice. “You know they won’t even believe a single word you say.”

She wasn’t wrong. My parents had always believed Lark over me. They always would. My word carried almost no weight in this house.

She put both hands on my shoulders and smiled, the expression soft and persuasive. “Sloane, you’re my big sister. I don’t want us to have issues, so just help me this one time. And besides… you’ll get to be free. Kaelan is rich. He’ll take care of you.”

Yeah. I wanted to be free. More than almost anything. But freedom through marriage to a stranger didn’t feel like freedom at all.

“You will do it, right?” she asked, searching my eyes carefully for the answer.

Even though I didn’t want to get married yet, even though the thought of standing in front of all those people as someone else’s bride made my stomach twist, the idea of finally being free from a family that had never once cared about my feelings was what I wanted most.

Slowly, against every instinct that told me to refuse, I nodded.

“Yes,” I said quietly. “I’ll help you.”