chapter 2

I couldn’t stop crying.

There I was, sitting at the bar, clutching a shot glass like it was the only thing keeping me from falling apart. People were staring, whispering, probably judging me, but I didn’t give a damn.

“What do they know about me?” I muttered under my breath, my voice cracking. “Like they’ve never seen a miserable woman before.”

Tears streamed freely down my face, and with each one, my frustration twisted deeper into anger. I must’ve said it a little too loud because the bartender shot me a concerned glance from the other end of the counter.

“What?” I snapped, my tone sharp and brittle.

“Are… are you okay, ma’am?” he asked gently.

I rolled my eyes and gave him a glare. “Do I look okay? My idiot fiancé got my even more idiotic cousin pregnant. They’re getting married. So no, I’m definitely not okay. That answer your question?”

Before he could respond, I tilted my head back and downed the shot. The burn scorched my throat, but I welcomed it, welcomed the sting. The sharper the pain, the better. It distracted me from the chaos inside my chest.

I wasn’t even sure how many drinks I’d had at that point. I stopped counting after the fourth. Instead, I simply waved the bartender back over and signaled for another.

“Rafael’s getting married,” I whispered, letting out a bitter laugh that dissolved into a sob. “My stupid, cheating fiancé is going to marry someone else...”

My entire body shook as the reality of it settled deeper. The pain was unbearable, growing heavier with every breath I took, and I hated how pathetically broken I felt.

Seven years. We were together for seven damn years. Two years ago, he got down on one knee and proposed, and I spent every moment since planning our future—our wedding, our home, our life.

And just like that, I blinked and he slipped right through my fingers, into her bed.

Amanda.

My cousin.

She wasn’t just some fling or a stranger. No. She was blood. She was the person I trusted most. And last week, I walked in on them. In bed. Together.

Moaning like animals in her bedroom.

I couldn’t even breathe.

And if that wasn’t enough, she had the audacity—just hours ago—to announce that they were getting married.

She’s pregnant.

And Rafael is the father.

“A whole fucking year…” I murmured, wiping my wet cheeks with the back of my hand. “They were lying to me for a whole year, and I didn’t even notice. God, I’m such a fool…”

“You should get back at them.”

The bartender’s voice startled me. I looked up, blinking through the tears.

“Like it’s that easy,” I scoffed.

“It can be,” he said with a mischievous little smirk. “Just figure out the one thing that’ll hit your ex the hardest.”

I snorted, rolling my eyes. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“You’ve been crying non-stop since you got here,” he replied. “Just thought maybe doing something about it would help.”

“You think revenge is gonna fix this mess?” I snapped, narrowing my eyes.

He simply smiled and nodded like some annoying motivational speaker.

“You gave me a stupid idea. Why the hell am I even talking to you?” I grumbled, turning my attention back to the glass.

But then I paused.

The anger simmering in my chest slowly boiled into curiosity.

But... what if he’s right? What if hurting Rafael the way he hurt me actually makes me feel better?

“It’s possible,” the bartender said. “You know, when we were kids, we’d always feel better after getting even with someone who hurt us.”

I didn’t respond. For a moment, I just sat there in silence, thinking—really thinking.

Then I scowled. “You’re useless to talk to. Just go do your job and let me wallow in peace.”

He chuckled and walked away, but not before placing two more shots in front of me.

“On the house. For the broken-hearted,” he said with a wink.

It was almost midnight, and I was still there drunk, dizzy, spiraling.

“Hey, you’re here,” I heard someone say nearby.

“Yeah. What’s up?” another voice answered.

Then I heard a third.

“Glad to see you here, Ram Jordan.”

I froze.

Ram Jordan?

Wait... Jordan?

My drunken brain did a double take. Was I imagining things? Was I hearing Rafael’s last name, or had I completely lost it?

I looked up.

And wow.

He was tall, with broad shoulders and sun-kissed skin. A well-fitted black coat draped over a designer shirt, an expensive watch gleamed on his wrist, and his hair was perfectly styled. But it was his eyes.was sharp, magnetic, unreadable.that made my breath catch.

He looked like he walked straight out of a billionaire fantasy novel.

“Holy crap…” I whispered. “He’s ridiculously hot.”

I quickly looked away before he noticed me gawking.

“You’re still crying over your cheating ex, and now you’re eyeing a complete stranger? Classy, Lex,” I muttered to myself, shaking my head.

Then I heard someone speak again.

“So, what’s a Ram Jordan doing in my bar?”

Okay, so I wasn’t hallucinating. That really was his name.

Wait. No.

No way.

Could he be…?

“Oh my God. Please don’t tell me he’s related to Rafael.”

I stared at him again, searching his features for a resemblance. Was it possible? My gut twisted into knots.

No, no. That would just be the universe laughing at me.

Suddenly, he turned and caught me staring.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his brows drawn together in suspicion.

I jerked my head back and shook it quickly. “N-no, I just… I thought you looked familiar.”

Total lie. But I had to say something.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “You’ve been staring for a while. Either you know me, or you’re just creepy.”

Rude.

“Look, I just… thought you looked like someone I knew, okay?”

He wasn’t letting it go.

“Well, I’m clearly not him,” he said with a smug grin.

“Yes. Clearly.” I rolled my eyes.

Ugh. He was arrogant. Nothing like Rafael. That jerk was a liar, but at least he wasn’t this… blunt.

“You’re nothing like him,” I murmured before I could stop myself.

His brow twitched. “The hell are you talking about?”

“I said, I thought I knew you. I was wrong,” I huffed, hoping he’d take the hint and drop it.

But he didn’t. He just smirked again. “Clearly.”

The bartender came over and whispered something to him. Ram glanced back at me. Whatever they were saying, I knew I was the topic, but I didn’t care.

I was too exhausted to argue. Too shattered to fight.

I stood to leave, but then I heard him say, “So… your ex dumped you? That’s rough.”

My blood boiled.

Without thinking, I grabbed the shot glass and flung it. The liquid splashed all over his tailored coat.

“What the hell?!” he roared, stunned.

“You’re a jerk. So don’t act like you didn’t deserve that,” I snapped.

His eyes burned. “You’re insane. No wonder your ex left you.”

The words sliced through me. My lips trembled.

I looked at him and whispered, “You don’t get to say that.”

And before I could stop myself, I grabbed the empty glass and hurled it directly at his forehead.

Thud.

He winced. Good.

“You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’ve been through. You have no right to say those things, you arrogant prick!”

He didn’t respond. Just stood there, stunned.

And I completely unraveled, slumped back onto my barstool, sobbing.

A long moment passed. Then I felt his presence again.

He handed me a handkerchief.

“Hey… stop crying. People will think I bullied you or something. I didn’t mean what I said. I was just pissed.”

His voice was softer now. Calmer.

But instead of calming down, I sobbed even harder.

“I’m so stupid… they were cheating on me for almost a year. And I didn’t even know.”

I buried my face in my hands and cried into the silence between us.

He awkwardly patted my back.

“…Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.

I sniffled. Then nodded.

“Okay. Wait here.”

I watched him walk up to the bar and whisper something to the bartender. Moments later, he returned with two glasses of some expensive-looking liquor.

“Here,” he said, handing one to me.

I took it, still unable to look him in the eye.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean those words,” he said again.

“…It’s okay,” I whispered.

“My name’s Ram. Ram Jordan,” he offered, extending a hand.

I hesitated before shaking it. “I’m Lexie.”

“You from around here?” he asked. “You look a little too young to be drinking alone in a place like this.”

“I’m not a kid,” I said quickly, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “And no—I’m not from here. I just came to… attend a wedding.”

He paused, then nodded slowly. “Funny. Same here. My nephew’s wedding, actually.”

I froze.

“…Wedding?” I echoed, dread sinking deep.

“Yeah. His name’s Rafael Jordan. Do you know him?”

I didn’t answer.

I couldn’t.

My entire world tilted.

Oh. My. God.

This drop-dead gorgeous man…

was Rafael’s uncle.