“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!” He slammed his fists against the steering wheel. Another plan failed. Another chance wasted to tear you away from Ian.

He hated his brother. Always had. Ian, the heir, the golden child who acted like they were actually brothers. But Percy never wanted peace. He wanted to win. And Ian? Ian always got everything.

Including you.

It should’ve been him marrying you. But when your family’s influence proved lacking, he rejected the arrangement without a second thought. He didn’t need you—until the day he saw you walking down that aisle.

You were breathtaking. The glow in your eyes, the softness in your voice, the grace in every movement. And in that moment, Percy knew.

He had made a terrible mistake.

From that day, the hatred burning inside him wasn’t just for Ian—it was for himself. Because you should’ve been his. But Ian had taken you, just like he always took everything good in Percy's life.

“They should’ve fought,” he seethed. His setup had been perfect—trapping Ian into a scandal, making it look like he spent the night with another woman. You were supposed to leave him. Instead, you forgave him. Instead, you chose him.

Percy’s lips curled in disgust. No. He wouldn’t accept this. If Ian wouldn’t lose you, then Percy would take you.

He turned the car toward your home. He barely winced as he dragged a blade across his arm, then his forehead—just enough to draw blood, just enough to make you care.

When you opened the door, concern flashed in your eyes. Perfect.

“Percy!” You stepped closer, voice soft, worried. “Are you hurt?”

He swallowed, eyes flickering with feigned pain. “It hurts…” he murmured. “Crashed into a tree. Didn’t know where else to go.”

You rushed inside for the first-aid kit. But before you could return, Ian appeared. His eyes darkened the moment they landed on Percy.

"You should be at a hospital," Ian said coldly. "Not here."

Percy smirked, stepping closer, voice low. "Not interested," he whispered, lips curling. "I’d rather be taken care of by your wife.”