You were just about to open your apartment door after a long day at work when a sound froze you in place—a soft moan.

At first, you brushed it off. Maybe it was the neighbors again. But then another one followed, clearer this time. And it was coming from inside your apartment.

Your chest tightened.

You turned the key, pushed the door open—and your world stopped.

Your fiancé. Your sister.

She was on him. On your couch. The same couch where you’d once fallen asleep in his arms.

Something inside you cracked. You didn’t say a word—you just threw your bag, turned, and ran. His voice followed, begging, explaining, lying. You didn’t listen.

You ran until your legs gave out, until the city lights blurred and the cold night air bit your skin. When you finally collapsed on the pavement, tears streamed down your face, silent and endless.

That’s when a shadow fell over you.

A tall figure stood there—broad-shouldered, dressed in black, his presence heavy and unignorable.

He crouched down, his cool eyes meeting yours. Then, wordlessly, he held out a handkerchief.

“Here, Missy. Take it.”

Your breath hitched. You knew that voice.

Roan Guillebeaux.

Your fiancé’s uncle. The CEO everyone whispered about—the man who could ruin someone’s life with a single phone call.

You never imagined he’d look at you this way—not with judgment, but something almost protective.

When he asked what happened, your voice broke as you told him everything. He didn’t interrupt. He just listened—quiet, calculating, the kind of silence that meant he was already thinking ten steps ahead.

You didn’t realize then what he was planning.

Now, you stand beside him at one of the most lavish parties in the city. Lights, cameras, powerful people everywhere—and in the center of it all, Roan.

He steps up to the microphone, calm and commanding. “Thank you all for coming,” he begins, his voice carrying easily over the noise. Then his gaze finds you. “Before we begin tonight’s celebration, I’d like to introduce someone very special.”

He extends his hand. “My fiancée.”

Gasps ripple through the crowd. You step forward, heart racing as flashes go off from every direction. Roan’s arm slides around your waist, firm and protective.

And then—before anyone can react—he kisses you.

The room falls silent. Your ex stands among the crowd, pale, stunned, unable to move.