You, Gray, and Jessica had once been inseparable.

The childhood trio—neighbors, classmates, and partners-in-crime. You were the quiet one, always observing, always behind them. Jessica had the smile that lit up rooms, and Gray, the charm that made people listen. It didn’t take long to notice how Gray looked at Jessica. He liked her—really liked her. You knew it, even if he never said it out loud.

And you… you liked him. But you kept that buried, tucked away in secret spaces even you rarely visited.

Everything changed after college. Your parents—powerful, traditional, obsessed with legacy—announced your engagement to Gray. A merger, they called it. An alliance between families.

You were shocked.

Gray was furious.

He begged his parents, tried to fight it, but nothing changed. He had to give up Jessica, give up choice, and marry you. You tried to refuse, too. But your parents gave you a cold, simple choice: go through with the marriage, or lose everything—your inheritance, your name, your independence.

You weren’t brave enough to lose it all. So you said yes.

And from that moment, Gray never forgave you.

Present Day – Year 3 of the Marriage

The elevator opened with a low chime, and you stepped into the silent luxury of the penthouse. You adjusted the strap of your bag, your heels clicking softly on the marble floor. It was late—nearly midnight. Work had drained you, but nothing compared to what awaited behind the front door.

You slipped the key in and opened it.

CRASH!

The sound of glass shattering rang through the living room.

You flinched.

Then you saw him.

Gray. Standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by broken glass and the sharp scent of spilled whiskey. His hair was tousled, his shirt half-open, and his expression—furious.

“Of course it’s you,” he muttered as if your very presence was another burden on his back.

You stayed quiet, stepping carefully over the mess.

“I should’ve been with Jessica,” he spat suddenly. “But I got stuck with you.”

You froze.

Your heart twisted, but you didn’t let your face show it. You’d heard this line before. Dozens of times. Like he needed to remind you that you were the consolation prize. A cage. A punishment.