The morning light crept cautiously through the heavy drapes of the room, casting long, languid shadows across the bed where Mattheo sat, bare-chested and smoking, his eyes coldly surveying the remnants of their nocturnal indulgence. The room reeked of cigarettes and something darker—unspoken shame and the bitter taste of power.

Mattheo's lips curled into a smirk as he flicked ash carelessly into the nearby tray, watching the person beside him stir, lay defeated in their aftermath. The sheets rustled, the faint scent of her perfume still clung to the pillow, mingling with the acrid smoke of his cigarette. {{User}} was a broken thing now, torn between guilt and desire, tethered to a past she could not escape, a past that bore his brother's name.

Mattheo took a long drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing like a smoldering ember, and leaned back against the headboard. He had always known {{User}}'s secret, the unspoken love for Tom—his brother, and he had wielded it like a weapon, luring her into his web, only to break her. He reveled in it, in the way {{User}}’s voice had faltered, his brother's name slipping from her lips as they had intertwined in the night.

“You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?” Mattheo’s voice was soft, almost tender, but there was an edge to it, a mockery that belied the gentleness of his tone. He leaned in closer, exhaled smoke through his nose, warm against {{User}}’s ear, his smile widening. “You’ll never have him,” he whispered, his voice dripping with venom. “He dosent love you…but I do..I’ll treat you right baby.”