Lies Were Your Game, Vengeance Is Mine

The wine glass slipped from my hand and shattered against the tiled floor, the sound louder than expected. Water splashed across my dress, but I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t. My heart was too busy trying to make sense of what I’d just heard.

Warren’s laugh—cold, mocking—echoed in my ears.

“She’s clueless,” he said in Italian, assuming I wouldn’t catch it. “She doesn’t even know she’s just a pawn. This was always about revenge—for what her mother did.”

Wendell’s wary gaze flicked to me. “Are you sure she doesn’t understand us?”

Warren just snorted. “Come on, Wendell. She’s too naïve.”

He turned to me with feigned concern, the same sweet voice that used to whisper I love you in the quiet of the night. “Baby, are you okay?”

I gave him a brittle smile. “Yeah. Just a bit clumsy.” My voice barely held steady.

I stood quickly, knees trembling, and headed for the restroom. But I didn’t stop there. I didn’t even pause.

I walked straight through the hallway, past the front doors, and into the open night air. The wind stung, but not nearly as much as his words. I yanked the key from my coat pocket—the one to the luxury car I had planned to surprise him with—and tossed it into the trash can without hesitation.

Just hours ago, I was buzzing with excitement, eager to see his face light up when he saw the car—his dream car. I had pictured the moment so vividly, imagining his arms around me in gratitude, his lips brushing mine. Back then, I still believed he loved me.

But that was before dinner. Before the betrayal unfolded in a language he didn’t know I had secretly mastered.

When I first overheard Warren and his friends speaking Italian, I felt like an outsider—so I learned the language in secret. I never wanted to feel left out again. Now, I wished I hadn’t understood a single word.

I hailed a cab, barely managing to give the driver an address. My throat burned with unshed tears, and when the dam broke, I couldn’t hold anything back. I cried until my chest hurt. Every memory played on loop—our stolen kisses, the whispered promises, the illusion of safety in his arms.

Lies. All of them.

Warren had been my stepbrother long before he became my secret lover. Our relationship had bloomed in the shadows, after our parents married and blended our broken families. I thought he had seen me—not just as his stepsister, but as someone he truly cared for.

I thought wrong.

The car came to a stop, but I wasn’t ready to go home. Home didn’t feel safe anymore. I reached into my bag, pulled out my phone, and scrolled through my contacts. My thumb hovered over one name—Professor Vince.

She answered on the second ring.

“Maryann? It’s late. Are you alright?”

I took a shaky breath. “I’ve made a decision. I want to join the research project. I’m ready to leave.”

A pause. Then her warm, steady voice: “Are you absolutely sure? You remember the terms—three years, no personal contact, no outside distractions.”

“I remember,” I whispered. “And yes. I’m sure.”

When the call ended, I looked out the window, the city lights blurred by my tears. My heart ached, but beneath the pain, something stronger had begun to stir.

Resolve.

I had been his game. But this—this was my first move toward freedom.

I sat at the long dining table, wearing a simple black dress and a carefully composed expression. Around me, laughter floated and silverware clinked against porcelain, but I felt like I was a ghost in my own life—present, yet invisible. My mother chatted animatedly across the table, unaware of the storm I was bracing for.

Then the door opened, and she walked in like she never left a trail of heartbreak behind her.

Monica.

Her entrance commanded the room—elegant and unapologetic, the kind of woman who wore betrayal like perfume. My chest tightened the moment I saw her. And before I could even begin to process why she was there, my stepfather rose, lifting a glass for a toast.

“I have some joyful news,” he announced. “Our family is growing. Warren and Monica are engaged!”

A thunder of applause erupted around me. Cheers, claps, congratulations. All of it blurred into a low drone in my ears. I barely managed to push my chair back without knocking it over and excused myself, my heels clicking too loudly as I walked swiftly to the bathroom.

The second I closed the door behind me, I gasped for air and splashed cold water onto my flushed face. My grip on the sink was tight—my knuckles white, my breath shaky. I stared at my reflection, trying to hold myself together.

But the door creaked behind me.

I didn’t need to look to know who it was. Her voice confirmed it anyway.

“I think it’s time you stopped chasing what doesn’t belong to you.”

I met her eyes through the mirror. Her pleasant smile was gone, replaced by something sharper.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied evenly, turning around.

“Don’t pretend,” Monica sneered. “Warren told me everything—how you’ve been clinging to him, how desperate you are. It’s disgusting. You might be ‘family’ now, but if you don’t back off, I’ll make sure everyone knows what you've been doing.”

She took a step closer. The malice in her gaze sent a chill down my spine. I turned to leave, unwilling to engage further, but her hand clamped around my arm.

“Let go,” I said.

She didn’t.

I jerked away—harder than I meant to. Her heel slipped on the damp tile, and she toppled to the ground with a theatrical scream.

The bathroom door flew open again.

Warren stood there, eyes wide, and in an instant he was kneeling beside her.

“She shoved me,” Monica whimpered, holding her wrist like it was broken. “I don’t understand why. I was just trying to make peace.”

“That’s a lie!” I shouted, my voice cracking. “She grabbed me—she—”

But Warren didn’t hear me.

Didn’t see me.

He cradled Monica in his arms, whispering reassurances. As they moved past me, his shoulder bumped mine. I stumbled back, lost my balance, and hit the floor with a harsh thud.

The pain in my arm throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my heart.

He didn’t even stop.

The cold morning light poured through the windows, and I lay still, trying to ignore the weight of the arm draped around me. His chest rose and fell behind me, his breath tickling the back of my neck.

“I missed you,” Warren whispered, his fingers curling slightly against my skin.

I wanted to believe him. To fall into the warmth of his embrace and pretend his words weren’t poisoned. But I remembered everything—every syllable I wasn’t meant to hear the night before. His cruel laughter. His confession in another language, thinking I was too ignorant to understand.

I twisted away from him suddenly, shoving him back with both hands. He landed on the bed, confused and startled.

“What’s going on?” he asked, sitting up.

I kept my expression blank. “I thought I heard someone near the door. What if our parents see us like this?”

He smirked lazily. “They’re occupied. You worry too much. You vanished from the party last night—I looked everywhere for you.”

“I needed fresh air,” I said stiffly, backing toward the edge of the bed.

He reached for me, but I stood. “I think I need more sleep.”

“Don’t forget we’re having dinner as a family tonight,” he called as he left.

Once the door clicked shut, I let my mask fall. My hands shook as I pulled out my suitcase. I couldn’t breathe in this house anymore.

Not long after, my mother walked in, frowning when she saw my halfpacked bag. “Going somewhere?”

“I’ve accepted Professor Vince’s offer,” I told her. “I’m leaving for the research fellowship.”

She blinked, then smiled wide. “Finally! I knew you’d go. This is what you’ve always wanted.”

It was. Once.

I had almost turned it down—for Warren. The idea of being away from him for years had terrified me. Now, the thought of staying suffocated me.

“Don’t say anything at dinner, please,” I said quickly when she suggested we make an announcement.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to make it harder on anyone. I might… change my mind if I see their faces.”

She seemed to understand, though her eyes were full of questions. “Well, at least show up tonight. Your stepfather has something to share.”

I nodded, even though my stomach churned.

Much later, long after the bathroom incident and Monica’s dramatic fall, I sat alone in my room. I stared at the crumpled dress on the floor and the halfzipped suitcase on the bed. My hands hovered over my phone before I picked it up and scrolled through my contacts.

Professor Vince.

I tapped the screen.

She answered quickly. “Maryann?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice steady for the first time in hours. “I’m ready to go. I’ll take the research position.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Everything will be arranged within the week. Just remember—you’ll be out of contact for the full three years.”

“I understand.”

And for the first time in a long time, I meant it.

I sat on the edge of my bed, gently tending to the scrape on my elbow. Suddenly, the door slammed open, crashing against the wall with such force it made me jump.

Warren barged in, his face stormy with anger. "Apologize to Monica," he demanded, his voice cutting through the air like a sharp blade.

I froze, the cotton swab slipping from my hand. "What?" I muttered, confusion lacing my voice.

He took a step closer, his eyes cold and unwavering. "You heard me. Apologize. You hurt her ankle—she can’t even walk properly now. You know she’s a model. You could’ve ruined her career!"

I stood up, fury rising within me. "I’m not apologizing because I didn’t do anything wrong. She slipped. That’s not my fault!"

His jaw clenched, fists balled at his sides. "You’re being unreasonable."

That was the tipping point. The last straw that broke whatever was left of my control.

"Unreasonable?" I shot back, stepping toward him, the space between us crackling with tension. "You’re the one marrying her, Warren. What about me? What about us? What happened to all those promises you made?"

For a moment, he looked conflicted—caught between the truth and the lies he had spun so effortlessly. Then, his face hardened again.

"I’m doing this for us," he spat. "Don’t you get it? If I don’t marry her, they’ll start asking questions. Monica is just… a distraction. She’s good for business and appearances. That’s it. You’re still the one I want."

I stared at him in disbelief, my heart pounding. "A distraction?" I whispered, my voice trembling—not with fear, but with anger.

He must’ve seen it in my eyes, because his expression softened. He reached for me, pulling me into his embrace. His warmth, his scent—comforting and familiar—only intensified my fury.

"I’m sorry," he murmured into my hair. "I didn’t mean to yell. I just don’t want us to get caught. Even if I marry her, nothing changes between us."

I pushed against his chest, my heart screaming for me to believe him, but my mind refused to be fooled again. I’d heard it all before. It was too late for me to pretend anymore.

"Just apologize to her," he urged softly. "Fake it. For us."

I exhaled heavily, exhausted by the emotional rollercoaster he had put me through. "Fine." The word was bitter in my mouth.

His face lit up, a victorious grin spreading across his features as if he’d won some twisted game. "Good. I promise we’ll go out later, just the two of us."

I shook my head, fueled by a sudden, reckless urge. "That’s not necessary. I’ve got a date."

It was a lie, but I wanted to hurt him the way he had hurt me.

His smile faltered, his face darkening. "No, you don’t."

I crossed my arms, a smirk tugging at my lips. "Oh, but I do. I’ve moved on. Unlike you, I don’t need to hide behind fake marriages and business deals."

He stepped forward, his face inches from mine, jaw tight with rage. "You’re not allowed to date."

I laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and hollow. "I’m not allowed? But you’re allowed to get married? That’s not just hypocritical—it’s pathetic."

His hands gripped my arms tightly, not gently this time. "You’re mine, Maryann. You always have been."

I pulled away with a surge of anger, my pulse racing. "If that’s what you think, then make a choice. Me or her."

His face twisted in frustration. "That’s ridiculous."

Taking a deep breath, I gathered my courage, my heart pounding as I delivered the final blow.

"I’m not yours, Warren. Not anymore. From now on, I’m going to do whatever I want."

Without saying another word, I spun around and left, slamming the door behind me.

And this time, I didn’t look back.

The cab ride was a blur, the city lights streaking across the rainspeckled window as they danced across my face. My mind replayed Warren’s furious expression, his possessive words echoing in my head like a broken record.

The weight of his words felt suffocating, like chains tightening around my chest. I needed to escape. I needed to forget. My phone buzzed on my lap, lighting up with his name—Warren. Again.

I ignored it. The buzzing didn’t stop. A call. Another call. Then came a flood of messages.

Where are you?

Come home. Now.

I’m serious, Maryann. Answer me.

Whoever that man is, he’s dead if he touches you. Only I can.

I stared at the last message, my chest tightening as the words registered. And then—I laughed. A bitter, hollow laugh. The irony was suffocating. He wanted me to be his while he was marrying someone else? What an asshole!

The cab pulled up outside a bar lit by red neon lights. I paid the driver, stepped out, and was immediately engulfed by the thumping music and the hum of latenight chatter. The bass vibrated through my body, offering a welcome distraction from the storm raging in my mind.

Inside, the bar was packed, the air thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat, and broken promises. I moved through the crowd, seeking solace in the anonymity of the strangers surrounding me.

And then I saw him.

Edward.

He was sitting at the far end of the bar, his dark hair slightly messy, a glass of whiskey in hand, and that familiar smirk playing on his lips. Warren’s former best friend, turned sworn enemy. The man Warren despised more than anyone else.

A wicked thought flickered in my mind.

I couldn’t approach him—not yet. But I didn’t need to.

I pulled out my phone, adjusted the angle, and snapped a photo of Edward, leaning casually against the bar, unaware of my presence. The picture was perfect.

Without second thoughts, I typed a message to Warren.

"Meet my date."

I hit send. The screen stayed lit for a moment before the message was delivered.

My phone wouldn’t stop vibrating, buzzing incessantly. It was Warren, over and over. Calls, texts, voicemails—his name flashing on my screen like a constant reminder I didn’t need. But I ignored it, just like I had ignored every sign, every warning that screamed he was never truly mine.

I sat silently in the backseat of the cab, my hands shaky as I clutched my purse. Hours had passed since I left the bar, and I hadn’t even bothered going home. There was nothing left for me there anymore. I had already arranged for my luggage to be packed and sent to the airport.

I was leaving. And this time, for good.

The cab finally arrived at the terminal. I paid the driver, my fingers freezing cold despite the warmth of the night air. Just as I stepped inside the airport, my phone buzzed again—another call from Warren. Without even glancing at it, I silenced the device.

The airport was full of energy and people, and I found an empty seat near my gate, staring blankly at the bright, flashing screen ahead of me. And then I saw it.

"BREAKING NEWS: Warren Hester and Monica Anderson Announce Their Engagement."

Time seemed to freeze. My heart lurched painfully in my chest. The photo on the screen displayed Warren and Monica standing together, their smiles wide, perfect, and utterly familiar. His arm was around her waist, like it belonged there, and her hand rested on his chest, an engagement ring glinting mockingly at me.

A sharp pain twisted in my chest, and before I could stop it, a tear escaped, trailing down my cheek.

Quickly, I wiped it away, glancing around to make sure no one had noticed. No one had. After all, why would they? To them, it was just another love story. To me, it was the final, undeniable blow.

How could he? How could he text me, call me, act like I was the one in the wrong while publicly flaunting his engagement? Maybe he just couldn’t accept that I had moved on—ignored him—and found someone else to date.

I pulled out my phone, my fingers moving before I could even think. I dialed my mom’s number, and she picked up after just two rings.

“Maryann? Where are you? Warren’s been looking for you all day,” she said, her voice soft with concern.

I closed my eyes, steadying my breath. “I’m leaving.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Leaving? Wait, is it today? You didn’t tell us.”

“I’m going away. I don’t want anyone to know where I’m going. Especially not Warren.”

There was silence. Then, softly, “Is everything okay with you and Warren?”

“No,” I whispered. “He’s hurt me, Mom. I can’t keep doing this. I need peace.” My voice cracked, and I swallowed hard, the weight of everything closing in. “We’re stepsiblings now. It was wrong from the start. It was wrong to love him.”

She sighed heavily. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry, Maryann… I didn’t know. But are you sure about this? We can talk about it, we can—”

“Yes.” My voice was firm, cutting through her words. “Please, just respect my decision. I’ll see you in three years when I come back.”

Just as I was about to end the call, I heard his voice in the background—Warren’s voice, desperate and frantic.

“Where is she? Mom, where’s Maryann?”

Panic surged through me like a wave.

“She’s already gone,” my mother said softly, her words sharp and final. “And she’s not coming back.”

“What do you mean she’s not coming back? Where is she? Is she with that jerk Edward? Why didn’t she tell me?” Warren’s voice was loud and frantic, pushing through the phone like a storm.

I ended the call before he could say more, but my screen lit up again—his name flashing relentlessly. My thumb hovered over the decline button, but something inside me snapped. This time, I answered.

His voice was angry, demanding. “Where the hell are you?”

I closed my eyes, letting the anger flood me, the hurt and betrayal boiling to the surface. And then, in perfect Italian, I said the words I had been holding back for so long:

“Enough. I already know everything. You said you’d get rid of me? Well, I’ll do it first.”

I hung up, my heart pounding with finality. Without hesitation, I blocked him.

My phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.

Unknown number after unknown number flashed across the screen as I settled into my businessclass seat. But I wasn’t stupid—I knew exactly who it was. Warren. Probably calling from every number he could find.

I clenched my jaw, hit power off, and tossed the phone into my bag like it burned my fingers. I refused to let him ruin this. Not now. Not when I was finally leaving.

The plane’s engines hummed softly as passengers shuffled to their seats. I pulled out the thick stack of documents—my research project—trying to focus. Pharmaceutical trials, drug efficacy rates, lab protocols.

It should’ve grounded me, pulled me into the world I was desperate to escape into. But the words blurred. All I could see was Warren’s face, his piercing eyes filled with something between rage and possession the last time we spoke.

I exhaled sharply, burying the ache. This was my fresh start.

Just as the plane doors closed, someone slid into the seat beside me. I didn’t bother looking up. I could feel his presence—a tall frame, the faint scent of leather mixed with something sharp like citrus. I kept my gaze glued to the pages, pretending to be engrossed.

Then a low, familiar voice broke the fragile calm.

“I think you owe me an explanation.”

I froze. Slowly, I turned my head.

A man wearing a cap sat next to me, but it was his smug grin that made my stomach flip. He tugged the cap off, revealing tousled dark hair and—bruises. A nasty one on his cheekbone, another just fading along his jaw.

I knew that face.

Edward.

The same man I’d snapped a photo of at the bar. The same man I’d sent to Warren with a petty text—Meet my date.

Edward’s grin deepened, amusement flickering in his eyes.

“Not sure why you did it, but your dear stepbrother didn’t appreciate the photo. Got himself worked up enough to punch me in the face.” He rubbed his bruised jaw lightly. “I mean, did we sleep together? Because if we did, I must’ve blacked out. And trust me, I wouldn’t forget letting you out of my bed.”

Heat flooded my face. My mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “I—I’m sorry,” I blurted. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I just wanted… I wanted Warren to leave me alone. I didn’t think he’d actually—” I gestured vaguely toward his bruises.

Edward laughed softly, leaning back in his seat. “Relax. I got him back. Punched him straight in the mouth. Fair trade.”

I blinked, unsure whether to feel relieved or guilty. Maybe both.

“But,” Edward continued, his tone shifting, “you owe me. And I intend to collect.”

I frowned. “What? I said I was sorry.”

“Apologies are cheap. I want something better.” His grin was infuriatingly charming.

“What do you want? Dinner?” I offered, halfjoking, trying to defuse the tension.

“Dinner?” He chuckled. “No, sweetheart. I want a bride.”

I choked on air. “I—what?”

“A bride. Specifically, you.”

I stared at him, convinced he was joking. But there was no humor in his eyes—just sharp calculation.

“That’s ridiculous,” I snapped. “I’m on a threeyear research project. I don’t have time for… whatever game you’re playing.”

Edward shrugged. “Not a game. See, I’m competing with my brother for my family’s inheritance. Having a wife—and maybe even a kid—would make things easier. And lucky me, you’re the perfect candidate.”

“Absolutely not.”

“What if I tell you that you can manage both? Because,” he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “I’m actually your boss. Heading to the same place you are.”

My jaw clenched. This couldn’t be happening. He is my boss? I didn’t think of who my boss would be, although I knew their family deals with pharmaceuticals, but there were other companies—and him? I wasn’t sure if that would sound great.

“I’m not marrying someone I don’t love,” I shot back. I won’t let anyone fool me again. All I want is peace of mind and finally have control of my life.

“Fair. But if you say no…” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I might just call Warren. Let him know I’m not your boyfriend after all. Or wait, what about telling your parents that you have a secret relationship with Warren?”

My heart skipped. No, that’s not going to happen. I might have hinted my mother about loving Warren but I didn’t specifically tell her about Warren and I having sex behind their back. And that was something I wouldn’t want them to know. My mother would be deeply hurt—and worst, my stepfather would get mad. Warren might have ruined me, but I don’t want to ruin our family knowing my mother truly loves Warren’s father. It was real for them.

“That’s blackmail.”

“Yep.” He didn’t even deny it. “Your move, sweetheart.”

I glared at him, torn between punching him and screaming. But I also imagine the idea of Warren smugly realizing I’d faked everything, which made my stomach twist. I couldn’t give him that satisfaction.

“I’ll think about it,” I muttered, gritting my teeth.

Edward just smiled, like he’d already won.

When the plane finally landed, I turned my phone back on.

Dozens of missed calls. Voicemails. Messages from my mother.

Warren knows where you are. He’s coming for you.

Panic surged. I couldn’t let him find me. Without thinking, I spun around in the airport, searching. And there he was—Edward, casually walking ahead like he hadn’t just flipped my life upside down.

I sprinted after him.

“Wait!” I called, breathless. He turned, eyebrow raised.

“I’ll do it,” I said, my chest heaving. “I’ll marry you.”

His grin was slow, satisfied. “Smart choice.”

Anything, I thought bitterly, to keep Warren out of my life.

We headed toward the airport exit, weaving through the bustling crowd after the deal. I forced myself to focus on the future, on leaving Warren behind, on embracing this reckless, impulsive decision. But the universe had other plans.

A firm hand grabbed my wrist, yanking me to a sudden stop. My breath hitched. I didn’t have to look to know who it was. The warmth, the electric pull—I hated how familiar it felt.

Warren. He managed to follow me all the way here—for what? To beg? I couldn’t believe this! His blue eyes burned with fury and something else—something dangerously close to desperation. My heart betrayed me, skipping a beat, but I buried it under layers of rage.

Without thinking, I slapped him. Hard. The sound echoed, drawing curious glances from passersby.

“What the hell are you doing?” I snapped, yanking my wrist free. My hand tingled from the impact, but it wasn’t enough to erase the ache in my chest.

Warren’s jaw clenched. “Why did you send that photo? And why the hell are you with him?” His glare shifted to Edward, whose smug expression only seemed to provoke him further.

“Oh, you mean my boyfriend?” I said sweetly, savoring the flicker of pain in his eyes. “The one you punched?”

Warren stepped closer, his voice low and sharp. “You can’t be with him. He’s my enemy. I know you’re just mad at me so you’re doing this, but this isn’t right, Maryann.”

I laughed bitterly. “Right? Don’t talk about right in front of me. And enemy, that’s your problem, not mine. He is my boyfriend!”

His hand shot out again, this time grabbing my arm. “You’re doing this because I’m marrying someone else, aren’t you?”

His words were like daggers, sharp and unrelenting.

I ripped my arm from his grasp. “No, Warren. I’m doing this because I’m done with you.” I turned to Edward, who watched the scene unfold with amused detachment. “We’re getting married.”

Warren’s face twisted in disbelief. “I won’t allow it.”

I crossed my arms, defiant. “You don’t get to allow anything. You’re not my father.”

“Our parents won’t agree,” he shot back, desperation bleeding into his words. “I told you, didn’t I? We can talk about this. You know that—”

I ignored his words. “Oh, really?” I pulled out my phone, dialing my mother without hesitation. “Let’s see, then.”

She answered on the second ring. “Sweetheart! Are you okay? What about Warren? He followed you and—”

I cut her. “I’m great, Mom. I just wanted to tell you—I’m getting married.”

A pause. Then an excited squeal. “Oh my God! To who? Is this for real? I didn’t expect this.”

“Edward Smith.”

“Oh! That’s wonderful! The Smith Family? They’re great. We should have a family dinner to celebrate. I’ll arrange everything! But what about the research project? What’s happening?”

“I’ll explain later, Mom. Bye!” I ended the call and slowly turned to Warren, savoring the disbelief etched into his face.

Edward couldn’t resist adding salt to the wound. “Maybe we should have a double wedding. What do you think, Warren?”

Warren lunged, but Edward sidestepped smoothly, laughing.

“Touchy, aren’t we?”

“Why are you so obsessed with us?” I hissed. “Don’t you want me to be happy?”

His eyes darkened. “You’re happy with me.”

I slapped him again, harder this time. “I was never happy being your secret.” My voice trembled with rage and heartbreak. “Don’t ever show yourself to me again. From now on, you’re just my stepbrother. Nothing more.”

I turned on my heel, grabbing Edward’s hand as we stormed out.

Once we reached Edward’s car, he glanced at me, his expression surprisingly soft. “You okay?”

I forced a smile. “Never better.”

But I was lying. My heart still ached. It would take some time before it heals. But at least, I was free from him.

To make things worse—or maybe better—Edward suggested,

“Let’s announce our engagement. Make it official, so he wouldn’t say that we’re just playing with him.”

I nodded. “Sure. Let’s do it.” Anything to drown out the echoes of Warren’s voice in my head.

Later, at Edward’s place, the news blared on the TV. There we were—breaking news: Billionaire Edward announces surprise engagement to pharmaceutical researcher Maryann Hester.

I watched, numb. This was my new life. I had to embrace it.

I wasn’t sure what would happen, but it was better than staying in our house watching Warren marry someone else. And I had already accepted the fact that we couldn’t be together. He will always be my stepbrother.

I busied myself unpacking, determined to ignore the hollow ache in my chest. But then—

A wave of nausea hit me out of nowhere. I rushed to the bathroom, vomiting until my knees felt weak.

And then it hit me.

I hadn’t had my period.

Panic surged as I grabbed my bag, rushing to the nearest pharmacy. Moments later, I was back in the bathroom, staring at the pregnancy test.

Two lines.

Positive.

I sank to the floor, the world spinning around me.

I was pregnant with Warren’s child.