Before Christmas Eve, all of Nowevik was betting.

Not on money. On me.

Would I finally pull the winning lot?

Would Leon Fabian finally take me to his family estate for Christmas?

The Fabians had a rule.

A new bride had to attend the Christmas Eve dinner with the whole family before she counted as one of them.

I'd been married five years.

Five years. The lot never landed on me.

I'd become Nowevik's favorite joke.

This year, the winning ticket went to a nightclub hostess. She lounged on Leon's lap and flicked it onto the table in front of me, smiling like she'd already won.

The room went silent.

Everyone waited—

for me to lunge at her like I had the last four years.

Claws out. A scene.

But I didn't move.

"Congratulations."

Leon leaned in, breath warm at my ear, smiling like he'd just proved something.

"Wynne, you're finally learning how to behave. Keep this up and you might actually become a proper lady of my house."

I lowered my eyes and tore the ticket in half.

My face stayed blank.

Leon had no idea the five-year deal between my brother and me was already over.

Soon, he'd come take me home.

The crowd roared as Leon Fabian clasped a two-million-dollar gemstone bracelet around the wrist of a nightclub hostess—Chloe Sutton.

Not long ago, he'd chased that same bracelet at any price for me.

"Wynne, happy birthday. Let this be your present. Sound good?"

He'd said it with that smug, confident smile.

Now the bracelet glittered on the wrist of a girl he'd met five minutes ago.

A sharp ache spread through my chest.

Leon caught my expression and casually pulled out a necklace, tossing it my way.

"Bad luck. The bracelet was the winner's prize. But you behaved tonight, so here's your reward."

The pendant was a gemstone too.

Just flawed.

The second it touched my skin, the rough edge dug in. My eyes stung.

Chloe drifted over, a glass of wine in hand.

Then she "stumbled."

The full glass of red splashed straight across my face.

The room went dead quiet.

For five years, every side chick who won the draw pulled the same stunt.

And every time, I'd lost it like a maniac—once badly enough to land myself in the hospital.

Chloe dropped at Leon's feet. Her dress slipped low, eyes glossy with tears.

"Mrs. Fabian, I didn't mean to! You can throw a hundred—no, a thousand—glasses at me. Just please don't hurt me!"

Leon's throat bobbed.

He stepped in front of her instantly, shielding her like I was about to lunge.

I paused.

Then I pulled out a tissue and wiped the wine off my face.

"Relax. I never said I'd blame you. Those heels are brutal. No wonder you couldn't stay upright. I'll have my assistant bring you another pair."

Leon stiffened. One brow lifted.

The assistant hurried over with a pair of flats. I crouched and slipped them onto Chloe myself.

My fingers brushed her bare neck.

I unclasped my necklace and fastened it around her throat.

"Jewelry belongs on a beauty. When you have Christmas Eve dinner with Leon's grandmother, at least you'll look the part."

Chloe looked flattered.

Leon frowned. Irritation flashed across his face.

"Wynne Wronski, who said you could give something I bought you to an outsider?"

"How is she an outsider? Would you take an outsider to Christmas Eve dinner with your grandmother?"

Leon went quiet. His gaze turned dark, unreadable.

The wine-soaked fabric clung cold against my skin.

"Excuse me. I need to change."

As I walked away, I could feel his eyes burning into my back.

The second the bedroom door shut, everything I'd been holding in crashed down. My chest tightened, wave after wave.

I changed quickly.

My phone buzzed.

Bernard. My older brother.

[Wynne, he won't take you to the family estate for Christmas again this year. You lost. Come home with me.]

My eyes burned. Tears slid down my face.

Before I could reply, a pair of hands suddenly settled on my waist.

Leon leaned against my shoulder and scoffed.

"I knew you were just playing hard to get. If you really don't care, why are you crying?"

I said nothing. Just turned off my phone.

"I was just thinking... the way I used to act was like a madwoman."

Looking back at those hysterical five years, I barely recognized the person I'd been.

Leon grabbed my chin and turned my face toward him. Then he kissed away my tears, rough, almost like punishment.

"Now you finally get how much you've embarrassed me all these years."

His breathing grew heavier.

Then Chloe's voice called from outside the door.

Something sharp flashed in Leon's eyes.

"How about the three of us... together?"

My expression froze.

Like the moment had soured, he brushed his thumb across my lips.

"Wynne, being my wife isn't the same as being the Wronski family's heiress. You need to be a bigger person. Behave a little better, and next year I'll take you to my family's estate for Christmas with my parents."

I dropped my gaze and watched him leave—Chloe already tucked in his arms.

But there wouldn't be a next year for us.

I met Leon my freshman year of college. We dated four years.

He was the most popular guy on campus. Love letters never stopped.

Leon never shut them down. He'd just smile and say he liked watching me get jealous.

Somehow, over those four years, I turned into someone insecure.

Like a trapped animal guarding its turf—teeth bared at the swarm of girls circling him.

I couldn't stop myself from grabbing onto something.

So on graduation day, I proposed to Leon.

He lit a cigarette first. "Wynne, I'm not done having fun yet. If we get married, you can still be my wife. But can you live with me keeping mistresses?"

I thought he was joking.

Six days into our marriage, I walked in and found him in bed with another woman.

Leon didn't even pause. He saw me—and just kept going.

Something in me snapped.

I went full psycho and trashed the whole house.

The girl got scared so bad she landed in the hospital, and Leon and I made front-page headlines.

After that, Leon came up with the Christmas draw. His brilliant idea to make me "behave."

Bernard made a bet with me. If Leon didn't take me to his family estate within five years, Bernard would come drag me back to Solmierz.

I took the bet without blinking. Easy win, right?

First year, the winner was some random spa girl.

And Leon actually took her to the Fabian estate.

Me? Locked out.

My hands froze until they blistered. I walked down the mountain all night before I finally made it home.

Second year, the winner was some country girl.

In the family photo Leon posted, she stood right in the center.

I sat in front of the cold Christmas Eve dinner, crying until my chest hurt.

After that, I got desperate. Praying day and night, begging for the winning lot.

Third year. Fourth year...

Now the fifth. The last one.

Still not me.

By then, I'd basically turned into Nowevik's favorite gossip story.

Fine. Whatever.

I didn't want to be a Fabian anymore anyway.

[Bernard, come get me early. The Christmas Eve dinner in Nowevik... yeah, I never got used to them.]

I took some hangover meds and headed to the mansion's little bar to find Leon.

Through the glass window, I saw him inside with his buddies.

"Leon, whoever wins the draw is just you saying the word. Wynne's been the punchline for five years. Aren't you worried she'll figure out you've been rigging it the whole time?"

My hand froze on the doorknob.

My chest tightened.

Leon sounded totally unconcerned.

"She still doesn't know how to be Mrs. Fabian. How could I bring her to my family's estate? And even if she finds out, so what? I'll sweet-talk her a little. She won't make a fuss."

The heated floor warmed my feet, but the rest of me felt like I'd dropped into an ice pit. I shivered.

All the tricks I'd used trying to win that draw...

Turns out I was the joke.

"Maybe Wynne won't make a fuss," someone said. "But what about her family?"

Leon paused. Then his voice came back, easy and sure.

"They're too far away. The Wronskis can't do anything."

Three thousand kilometers lay between Nowevik and Solmierz.

The distance—and everything I'd crossed for love at eighteen—had become the reason people looked down on me.

I let go of the doorknob and smiled at my own stupidity. Bitter.

I turned to leave.

The door swung open from the inside.

Chloe stepped out holding two bottles of wine. Surprise flashed across her face, then melted into sweetness. "Didn't expect you here too. Come in and join us."

Before I could refuse, she shoved me inside.

I stumbled. The hangover meds slipped from my hand and scattered across the floor.

Chloe casually dropped onto Leon's lap and sighed.

"You're so thoughtful. I'm not like that. I just think Leon holds his liquor well, so I always make him drink a couple more glasses."

Leon looked pleased and reached for the medicine.

I kept my face cold, ignored his hand, and dumped the pills in the trash.

"If his tolerance's that good, he probably doesn't need hangover meds."

Leon's hand froze midair.

Like payback, he slid his hand into Chloe's collar. "Baby, you're right. I can handle my liquor. I don't need certain people worrying about me."

The room went stiff until someone suggested Truth or Dare.

The bottle spun... then stopped, pointing at Leon.

The guy asking the question looked between him and me.

"Pick a woman here to spend the night with."

I didn't react. I just stared at my phone.

Text from Bernard.

[Everything's ready. Christmas Eve, I'm taking you home.]

Before I could reply, my phone suddenly got knocked to the floor.

Leon grabbed my wrist. Anger flashed in his eyes, his grip tight enough to hurt. Then he sneered.

"I choose Chloe."

The room fell silent.

Every look thrown at me carried the same mix—mockery and pity.

Leon scooped Chloe into his arms. When he passed me, he paused, eyes sliding toward the master bedroom.

"Give us the master bedroom."

His tone made it clear. Not a request.

He knew I had severe germophobia.

I met his punishing stare and nodded, calm.

Then I opened a drawer, pulled out a sealed box of ultra-thin condoms, and set it on the cabinet beside them.

Quiet. Casual.

After that, I closed the door.

A slow breath left my chest.

Three days left.