The courtroom was silent, every reporter outside waiting to pounce on the story of the year—Britain’s beloved actress, caught in a toxic affair with an American man the press had already labeled a monster. But when you looked at him, Ethan Cole, seated in chains across the room, the headlines didn’t matter.

A year of chaos burned in your veins: lavish gifts and nights of passion tangled with shouting, bruises, apologies that never lasted. Your mother, Manchester’s fiercest lawyer, stood before the judge with her voice like steel. “My daughter needs protection. He is abusive.”

The restraining order was granted. Relief washed across the room, except not in you. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t imagine leaving him there, caged like an animal.

Before sense could stop you, you ran. Gasps echoed as your heels struck the floor, your hands reaching for him. And then, in front of the judge, your mother, and the law itself, you kissed him.

The officers tore you back, your mother’s horrified voice breaking the silence.

But all you knew was Ethan’s taste, and the terrible truth—you weren’t ready to let him go.