Chapter 1

1

It was our fourth anniversary, the secret milestone of our love.

I was at home, surrounded by a surprise I'd spent hours preparing. I sat there in the dim light, waiting for him to walk through the door.

Then, my phone buzzed. It was Tristan.

The background noise on the other end was a chaotic roar of a party, but his voice cut through the static like a jagged blade.

"If I wasn't trying to piss off Sienna, do you really think I'd ever be with Willa?"

"Every time I think about being with her, I want to gag. Who the hell falls for their own brother? She's pathetic and shameless."

"But Sienna is back now. I'm going to marry her soon. Until then, I don't mind playing with Willa a bit longer. After all, she's obsessed with me."

The call ended with a burst of cruel, drunken laughter. I stood in the center of the room, shaking so hard I thought I'd shatter.

Four years. For four years, I thought we were building a life.

It turns out I was nothing more than a tool for his petty revenge.

My heart felt like it had turned to ash in my chest. In that moment of total devastation, I finally made the call I had been avoiding.

I agreed to the arranged marriage with the Yale family.

On my wedding day, I looked at Sienna Snow and calmly called her my sister-in-law.

Tristan Thorne, a man who prided himself on his icy composure, completely lost it.

......

It was supposed to be our special night. I had cooked a feast of all the dishes Tristan loved, from garlic butter steak to honey-glazed carrots.

I kept imagining the look of surprise on his face. But the hours ticked by, and the food grew cold.

I called him dozens of times. No one picked up.

Just as my anxiety reached its peak, my phone finally rang.

It was Tristan. I pressed accept instantly, my voice trembling as I prepared to ask when he'd be home.

But I didn't get a chance to speak. Instead, I heard his voice, dripping with a disgusting mix of mockery and hatred.

"If I wasn't trying to piss off Sienna, do you really think I'd ever be with Willa?"

"She actually has feelings for her own brother. It's sickening!"

In that second, it felt like I had been plunged into a lake of ice. I had imagined a thousand reasons for his delay.

I thought he was stuck in a meeting, or maybe he was buying me flowers. I even expected a lame excuse.

I never, in my wildest nightmares, expected this.

I hung up. Outside, a sudden thunderstorm broke, mirroring the chaos in my soul.

I walked to the table and scraped every bit of that gourmet meal into the trash. Then, I stood by the window, staring into the dark.

Tristan's car pulled into the driveway. He must have seen me standing there, looking like a ghost against the glass.

The rain had soaked through the window frame, dampening my clothes, but I didn't feel the cold.

He rushed inside, closing the window and draping his designer jacket over my shoulders.

"Willa? Why are you standing here in the dark? You're freezing."

"Go take a hot bath and change into something dry. I'll handle everything."

He moved with a practiced, familiar tenderness, starting the water and laying out my silk pajamas.

"The temperature is perfect. Go on, before you catch a cold."

When I stepped out of the bathroom, Tristan was waiting. He naturally took the hairdryer from my hand and began to dry my hair.

I watched the man in the mirror. He looked so gentle, so caring.

I couldn't reconcile this version of him with the monster on the phone.

"Do you find it disgusting?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

The hairdryer stopped. His hand froze in my hair.

"Why would you ask that? Did someone say something to you? Willa, listen to me, those people don't know―"

I forced a brittle smile, cutting him off. "No. I was just wondering."

Tristan set the dryer down and wrapped his arms around me from behind.

He nuzzled the side of my neck, his voice a mix of an apology and a plea.

"Willa, I'm sorry about tonight. I got tied up with work. I promise I'll make it up to you tomorrow, okay?"

In the past, I would have melted. I would have turned around, ruffled his hair, and told him all was forgiven.

But now, I just gently pried his hands off my waist.

"Tristan, don't."

He let out a soft chuckle, but instead of letting go, he pulled me tighter.

That night, he held me in bed, his warm breath fanning across my shoulder.

"Willa... I want you."

I felt a flash of the old desire, but the memory of his voice talking to his friends spiked through it.

"I don't feel well today," I said, cutting him off.

His hand went still. He let out a long, frustrated sigh.

"Fine. Get some rest."

I closed my eyes in the suffocating silence.

I was the only child of the Blanche family until my parents died in a tragic accident.

Overnight, I became an orphan. I was sent to a cold, state-run facility until Tristan brought me home.

I was eleven. He was eighteen. He was an orphan too, yet he gave me a home.

From that day on, I was his shadow.

He took me everywhere. He told me I was his only real family.

Back then, I didn't understand the difference between gratitude and love. I confused the two.

On my eighteenth birthday, fueled by too much champagne, I confessed.

"Tristan, I love you. Not as a brother."

He looked stunned. He tried to push me away, but I clung to him like a lifeline.

Before he could react, I kissed him.

He turned his face away, his voice strained. "Willa, you're drunk."

"I'm not," I whispered against his skin. "I love you."

That night, Tristan finally broke. He pulled me into his arms and kissed me back with a desperation that terrified me.

After that, we started our secret, illicit life together.

He became even more attentive, managing every aspect of my existence.

I was drowned in the joy of our secret love, believing that "forever" was a promise he intended to keep.