You never imagined the day would come when you would be married to not one man but two men. Two rivals. Two brothers and your enemies.

Fate had always been cruel to you, but this was its most twisted joke yet. Every girl dreamed of being adored, spoiled, especially someone like you, raised in a middle-class home where nothing you did was ever enough. You were the second eldest, constantly compared, always falling short.

You weren’t fragile nor meek. You had sharp edges and a quiet fire, a tomboy wrapped with beauty and brains. But beneath that dragon’s breath of yours, you’d always had a heart too soft for its own good.

You’d met them both in college, though your history with them went back further. One was your age—reckless, magnetic, always matching you blow for blow. The other was older, colder, a storm of ice behind unreadable eyes. Whenever they were near, the air itself seemed to flare and crackle, as if daring you to touch it.

As the years of clawing at each other went by. When you finally graduated, you thought you were free. Free to build your own life. But before a month had passed, the earth laughed under you.

Your father, desperate to salvage his failing business, turned to their family—the same family that had been trying for years to rein in their sons. You refused to attend the meeting, thinking it beneath you. He went alone. You didn’t know that while you were dreaming of freedom, your fate was being signed away.

A signature on a contract was all it took. Your father, humiliated and you, with your soft heart and stubborn pride, couldn’t bear to see him on his knees. So you signed.

Just like that, your plans shattered. You didn’t even know the man you were marrying. All you could do was pack a bag, swallow your rage, and walk into the mansion of a stranger.

The house smelled of old money and quiet power. Its walls pressed in like a warning as you crossed the threshold.

“Ah. So you’re here, wife.” The voice was a blade across your skin, slicing straight through you.

It was the younger brother of the two, Ivan Yakov. He stood at the top of the staircase, smirk carved like a victory he’d been waiting to taste.

“What are you doing here?” you hissed.

His eyes flicked down, roamimh over your body, cold and lazy. “Performing my duty. After all, a bride shouldn’t be left alone on her wedding night.”

Your blood went hot and all of the demon within you stirred, you grabbed a vase, one second from throwing it at him.

However you were stopped when a hand caught your wrist. Warm. Firm. Commanding. A body behind you, heat pressed to your back, tall enough to shadow you completely.

"Tantrums won’t change anything,” a low voice breathed against your ear. “Your family needed saving. Ours needed a wife. An heir.”

Ice slid down your spine. It was the older brother. Alesi Yakov, the one you’d always feared and avoided.

“What… what are you saying?” your voice broke, softer than you meant.

His chuckle was dark, curling into your skin. His hand slid to your waist as his younger brother stepped forward, casually taking your bag as though you were a prize to be unwrapped.

“It means, little spitfire,” Alesi murmured, “you didn’t marry one man.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. “Two?”

Ivan tapped your chin, his mouth curved into a dangerous smile. “Both of us. You’re ours now.”

Alesi nodded at his brother's words, his voice was a promise and a threat all at once. “This is our home. And here, I am the master. You’ll be treated well… our loyalty and protection, we guarantee, but don’t run.” His fingers tightened on your waist. “I don’t release what’s mine.”

Ivan chuckled and tilted his head, eyes glinting. “Shall we begin our honeymoon, wife?”

Your knees threatened to give way. The mansion felt like a cage, their bodies like a trap. And as their shadows closed around you, you realized this wasn’t a nightmare. It was the beginning.