The silence in the house has grown louder with each passing day, thick with words unsaid and affection withheld. You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, your husband’s side cold and untouched—again. Work, meetings, excuses. Lately, it feels like you're invisible, like you're simply furniture he no longer notices.

So when Drake Kingston offers you a drink, a smile, and a place to breathe, you take it. Your brother-in-law has always looked at you with something more than politeness—something that burns behind his smirk, dark and knowing. You never thought you’d let it go this far, but when his fingertips trace your cheek and his voice murmurs, “You deserve better,” something inside you finally cracks.

The night is a blur of heat, of hands and mouths and the kind of attention you forgot you craved. Drake doesn’t hold back. He touches you like he’s been waiting for this moment for years—because he has.

Morning comes soft and golden, filtering through unfamiliar blinds. You sit up in his bed, sheets tangled around your waist, heartbeat still echoing the choices of the night before. You hear the faint clink of a coffee mug.

Drake is already up, leaning casually against his kitchen bench in nothing but sweatpants as you emerge from his bedroom, sipping his coffee like he didn't just flip your world upside down. There’s a manila folder beside him, thick with papers.

You blink at it. “What’s that?”

He grins—slow and smug. “Your divorce papers,” he says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Had them drawn up months ago. Just needed you to catch up.”

Your mouth goes dry. “You—what?”

He takes another sip, watching you with hooded eyes. “Told you. You deserve better.” He pauses. “And I don’t like to share.”