When I was pulled from the icy lake, my fiancé, Nico Valenti, looked utterly shattered, his beautiful blue eyes bloodshot.

A dangerous idea sparked in my mind: I would test him.

"I think I have amnesia. Where is this?"

I stared at him, my expression carefully blank.

He froze for a heartbeat, then seized his older brother, Preston Valenti, shoving him in front of me.

"Preston, take your fiancée to the hospital—now."

My smile faltered.

Preston drew me into his arms.

"Roxanne, I'm your fiancé. Have you forgotten?"

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1

After a series of exams, the family doctor declared my "amnesia" a side effect of a concussion.

I curled my fingers, my nails digging deep into my palms.

Nico’s eyes lit up, his joy barely concealed.

So, he didn't care one bit whether I lived or died.

The realization plunged me into an icy abyss.

Preston, however, carefully draped an expensive cashmere coat over my shoulders, his movements so gentle it was as if he thought I were made of glass.

"Wait for me here. I'll take you home."

I gazed at his deeply chiseled face, as sharp and cold as a sculpture, and nodded numbly.

Then, I quietly followed him.

Nico's sickeningly sweet voice drifted from the study. "Preston, just help me out this once. I can finally be rid of Roxanne, this burdensome political engagement. Pretending to be obsessed with her makes me sick, you have no idea how much I've suffered."

Preston's voice was as cold as a blade. "You're the one with the engagement. If she regains her memory, things will get complicated."

A moment of silence. Then Nico’s voice again, almost pleading.

"You know I've always loved Bianca. But she's just the daughter of a distant relative, and I'm supposed to marry Roxanne. Now that she's 'forgotten,' just let me and Bianca have a few days. You're my brother—I trust you. Just... don't let this charade with Roxanne become real. I still have to go through with the marriage eventually."

I gasped and stumbled back, collapsing into the chair outside the study.

The man who'd once been my shadow, constantly whispering how much he loved me in luxury cars, in bed, even while waiting outside the bathroom door for me... He had just handed me over to his brother like an object.

That fake love? I didn't want it anymore.

Since Bianca was the one he truly wanted...

Fine. I'd let them have their happiness.

When Preston returned, he pulled me firmly into his arms, his hold so gentle it felt as if I might shatter at his touch.

In the car, he leaned over and carefully fastened my seatbelt.

Even lying on the bed in his penthouse apartment, I felt utterly out of place.

Black, white, gray, silver.

No photos, no superfluous decorations. Even the pillows carried a cold, crisp scent.

The entire place was like a sterile, priceless fortress, devoid of warmth, let alone a single feminine touch.

I clutched my silk dress, soaked and stiff from the lake water, and stood there, lost.

Preston didn't even blink.

"Go change into my robe."

He leaned in, his lips brushing my forehead, then let out a soft sigh. "Good, no fever. Get some rest. I'll pour you a glass of whiskey to warm you up."

Every time I'd seen him before, he had felt unreachable.

Cold, aloof, decisive, and ruthless.

I'd even heard that a woman once tried to drug him, and he’d had her thrown directly into the Hudson River.

And now?

The look in his eyes... was a drowning tenderness.

This man, who seemed to view all women as the enemy, was now ignoring his brother's warning, holding me, about to kiss me.

I watched Preston's back as he moved to the bar.

He must have felt my gaze, because he glanced back, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Just a moment."

I bit my tongue, trying to fight the feeling of sinking. "I don't want to be a bother."

His smile deepened, genuine pleasure lighting his features. "You are my fiancée. It is my right to have you here."

Preston had always been disciplined, cold, with zero tolerance for betrayal.

And now, he was betraying his own brother—the family's heir apparent.

The next day was a celebration for the Valenti family.

I walked into a lavish private room in an underground club, all crystal chandeliers, velvet, and a champagne tower. On the floor, white roses were arranged in the shape of a heart.

So understated.

Nico’s men, usually so deferential, were all silent.

The door was suddenly thrown open—

"Nico, I got the diamond set you wanted! Don't screw this up—give Bianca a proposal she'll never forget!"

A dead silence fell.

No one spoke.

Everyone lowered their heads, eyes darting between Nico and me, feigning indifference.

So this wasn't a family celebration.

This was the elaborate birthday proposal he had planned for Bianca.

I looped my arm through Preston's and let out a light laugh that cut through the silence like a razor.

"Why is everyone so tense? Nico's lifelong happiness is on the line."

Someone finally spoke, their voice dripping with awkwardness.

"Roxanne… aren't you angry?"

Nico shot them a murderous glare.

I pretended not to see it. As Preston brought a crystal glass to my lips, I suppressed the sting in my heart and took a sip of wine.

"Why would I be angry? I'm his brother's fiancée. It's only natural for me to care about his love life."

Nico stiffened, then forced a smile.

"You're right. I've loved Bianca for years. Now I can finally be with her."

A relieved buzz quickly filled the room.

When Bianca slipped on the massive diamond ring and whispered, "I do," the room erupted in cheers.

Without me—the fiancée in his way—he could finally kiss the girl he actually wanted.

A bitter sting pricked my eyes, and I stood, murmuring that I needed to touch up my makeup in the private restroom.

From inside, a soft, breathless voice emerged.

"Bianca... I can finally have you."

Bianca's voice followed, laced with a practiced grievance.

"Nico, my heart aches every time I see you with Roxanne. I'm just the daughter of a distant relative. Even after being gone for years, she's still the one engaged to you."

Nico quickly soothed her. "You're so soft and sweet. Roxanne's body is covered in scars from shootouts—I can barely stand to look at her. Who knows what kind of hell she's been through? Every time I'm in bed with her… all I can think about is you."

Bianca's voice dropped to a coquettish whisper.

"Even if her amnesia doesn't last... I'll be content with just a few days with you."

A silent, bitter laugh escaped me, followed by a fresh wave of tears.

Back then, in bed, Nico had slowly, reverently traced the shootout scar on my back—swearing it was a badge of courage, that he would protect me forever.

Now he was using that same scar to degrade me, just to comfort another woman.

The muffled sounds of kissing and heavy breathing drifted from the restroom again.

The sounds were like a knife twisting in my heart.

I turned to leave, only to walk straight into a solid chest.

It was Preston.

He looked down at me, his brow furrowed, then roughly wiped the tears from my face with the pad of his thumb.

"Why are you crying?"

His eyes blazed with a dangerous fury, and he leaned in to kiss me.

Just then, the restroom door swung open.

Nico froze, his gaze fixed on my flushed face as Preston kissed me with a possessive heat. His expression darkened instantly.

"Preston, what the hell are you doing?"

His voice was laced with a threat.

I found it laughable. He was the one who pushed me into another man's arms, and now he couldn't stand the sight of it.

Preston let out a low laugh, his hand tightening on my waist.

"My fiancée is upset, so I'm comforting her. Can't you tell?"

Nico was about to speak when Bianca emerged from behind him, taking his arm.

"Roxanne, I heard you have amnesia. I've been so worried. You and Preston look so happy together."

Her words dripped with false concern. When I saw the fresh marks on her neck, my breath hitched.

When the party finally ended, Preston received an urgent call about "family business." He asked Nico to take me back.

But as soon as we got in the car, Bianca pressed a hand to her forehead.

"The lights in there made me dizzy. We should probably go to the hospital."

I wanted to call my own car, but they insisted on dragging me along.

The doctor simply told Bianca to go home and rest, but she frowned, saying weakly:

"Nico, what if something happens in the night and I need a transfusion? I heard our family's blood type is very rare."

The moment she finished speaking, Nico grabbed my wrist.

"You have the same blood type. Draw some, just in case."

I stared at him in astonishment, trying to pull away.

He frowned, his patience wearing thin.

"You've been targeting Bianca ever since you came back. What's wrong with giving a little blood? Roxanne Callahan, how can you be so cold-hearted?"

His grip tightened, and I couldn't break free.

I could only stand there, pale-faced, as he ordered a nurse to stick a needle in my arm.

Bianca watched with a triumphant smirk, her red lips curved in victory.

Nico continued to berate me as if I were the one at fault. "Why couldn't you just cooperate? Why throw a fit? Don't be so petty. It's just a little blood—it's not like you're going to die."

He seemed oblivious to my pale lips and trembling body.

Then—

A heavy fist connected, and Nico crumpled to the ground.

Preston stood there, his face a dark mask, his eyes cold enough to kill.

"Nico, is this how you take care of my fiancée?"

As he spoke, he scooped me up and gently placed me on a chair. Then he hauled Nico, whose face was already swelling, into the nearby emergency stairwell.

Seeing this, Bianca grabbed her purse. "It's getting late, I'm heading home."

She beat a hasty retreat.

I followed them without a sound.

The tension between the brothers was a physical force.

Nico mumbled, holding his face, "Roxanne is my fiancée. I can do what I want. You, on the other hand—don't tell me you've actually fallen for her."

He clearly didn't see the murderous intent in Preston's eyes and continued:

"You've never even touched a woman. A scarred-up tool for a political marriage like her is nothing but trouble. You won't like her. I'm already tired of her, go find someone cleaner—"

He was dead wrong.

Preston's kick sent him flying into the wall. Nico curled up, clutching his chest and coughing.

The next second, Preston's hand was around his throat, pinning him in place.

"Nico, have I been too good to you?" Preston's grip tightened. "As the Underboss, my entire life has been cleaning up your messes. If you're unhappy with the engagement, tell her the truth. Don't you dare humiliate her like that again."

Nico's face turned purple as he choked out, "I get it... I spoke without thinking. But you still need to stay away from her. It'll ruin your reputation. You don't need to get so invested just for my sake."

And that was that.

But a strange look flashed in Preston's eyes. It was far from normal.

Back at the apartment, Preston made me chicken soup.

He watched me finish it, then pulled me into his arms and lay down with me.

The man who said he wouldn't get too close was now holding me as I slept, as if his brother's warning meant nothing.

That night, I dreamed of the day I was captured by Nico's enemies.

He was always so reckless, making enemies as easily as he breathed.

He'd said he would pick me up for a gallery opening. I waited for an hour. Instead, his enemies showed up.

They dragged me to an abandoned factory, their hands roaming over my body, their foul breath on my skin.

The one who saved me was Preston.

As for Nico? He was busy escorting Bianca to a charity piano concert. At the time, he'd told me, "She's your future family. I'm helping you maintain ties."

And I'd actually believed him.

I woke with a start, drenched in cold sweat, tears streaming down my face.

Preston, not yet fully awake, instinctively pulled me into his arms. "Don't be afraid. I'm here."

I looked at his half-asleep face, dazed. He once wouldn't spare me a single glance. Now, this tenderness came so easily it felt suspicious.

Or was he just trying to teach Nico a lesson?