The second the car rolled to a stop, Malcolm unclipped his seatbelt in a flash, threw open the door, and marched straight for Yara like he had a mission.

I stayed put in the passenger seat, comfortable as can be, watching his urgent strides in the side mirror and shaking my head in amused disbelief.

That’s the unarguable magic the heroine has over the hero, isn’t it?

I’d been scanning the sidewalk myself, dead set on spotting Yara first. But somehow, Malcolm’d picked her out of the crowd of cars and pedestrians before I even had. Makes you wonder if there’s some invisible magnetic pull between those two—otherwise, finding her on this chaotic, packed street would’ve been damn near impossible.

In this story, Yara’s an orphan who worked her ass off to claw her way into a position at Malcolm’s company. She put in endless hours, and over time, she fell hard for her boss. Then she found out Malcolm’s kindness only existed because she looked exactly like someone he’d loved and lost. Heartbroken, she couldn’t bear to keep working there, so she handed in her resignation.

Malcolm begged and pleaded for her to stay, but Yara wouldn’t budge. After leaving her letter on his desk, she headed back to her tiny rented apartment. But when it rains, it pours—she just lost her job, and then her landlord kicked her out over some personal nonsense. No lease, no compensation, and he didn’t even give her time to hunt for a new place. So there she was, dragging her suitcase behind her, wandering the streets alone.

Funny thing is, I’d dragged Malcolm out for dinner that night, and we just stumbled right into her. And Malcolm? Couldn’t have cared less that his fiancée was still sitting in the car waiting for him. He swept Yara right up and was dead set on taking her straight to his place.

Curious as hell, I watched them from the passenger seat through the mirror. They looked stunning together, perfect for each other. Nothing like me—the so-called villain who could never hold a candle to her.

Sensing the timing couldn’t have been more perfect, I smoothed out my expression, getting ready to put on my big performance: wronged, indignant, furious. Showtime.

I pushed open the door and marched straight toward them, fake outrage burning in my steps.

“Malcolm, what the hell are you two doing?”

When she saw me, Yara yanks her hand out of his grip so fast, eyes dropping to the concrete, lips pressed tight. Malcolm’s face went stony, and he glares at me hard enough to cut glass.

Wait, did I know Yara’d be here? Was I somehow behind the eviction? I remembered—Pearl Apartments are owned by the Dunn family, and that’s exactly where Yara was living…

I stepped closer, ready to play my part, but Malcolm’s sharp, icy gaze threw me off for half a second.

[What’s his problem? I didn’t do anything wrong! Why’s he staring at me like I kicked his puppy?]

Malcolm shifted his focus back to Yara, softening his tone. “Yara, it’s late. Come with me. This is for your own good.”

My outer expression flared with fake anger, but inside I was screaming:

[Yes! Exactly that! Hurry up, take her back, cook her dinner, let this thing finally bloom between you two!]

But out loud I snapped, “Malcolm, what are you talking about? You’re taking this shameless woman to your house? I won’t let you get away with this!”

Malcolm frowned, clearly confused by how over the top I was being.

“No thank you, Malcolm,” Yara murmured, rubbing the faint red mark his grip left on her wrist, glancing at me warily. “I don’t want to be a bother. I… I already found a place to stay.”

[She’s lying. She hasn’t found jack. She’s gonna end up sleeping on the sidewalk tonight if you let her go!]

Malcolm just stared, quiet.

He glanced at my red-faced, visibly angry act, then spoke in that soft, steady way he does. “It’s no trouble. You can stay with me until you get back on your feet.”

“Malcolm!” I clutched my chest like my heart just broke, all wide-eyed disbelief. “How could you do this to me? Did you forget what you promised Mom?”

He’d promised Mom he’d take good care of me, after all. A wave of that stupid obligation washed over him, and his frown deepened. Yeah, it was wrong to bring another woman home when he was engaged to me—but he couldn’t just leave Yara out on the street, could he?

“I won’t let you down,” Malcolm said, all serious. “But Yara was my secretary. It’s my job to make sure she’s okay.”

The meaning was clear as day: he was going to fix her problem, no matter what.

I clenched my fists, my eyes sparkling under my fake scowl:

[Let me down! It’s totally fine! I don’t care! Just be good to Yara, that’s all that matters!]

[Aaah, my OTP is finally getting together! This is everything I’ve ever wanted!]

Malcolm just blinked, confused as hell. Wait—she’s shipping me with Yara?

Even with my internal screaming of joy, I kept my wronged act going full force. “Malcolm, Yara resigned! She’s not your employee anymore. Why do you have to be this nice to her?”

Malcolm’s eyes dropped to my fists, crumpling the fabric of my dress. He paused a second, then said firmly, “I never accepted her resignation. She’s still my secretary.”

“Malcolm!” I stomped my foot, fake frustration bleeding into my raised voice. “I’m your fiancée! You’re really going to let another woman stay at your place when I’m right here?”

[Yes! That’s perfect, keep going! Just take her back already!]

Malcolm went quiet again. This woman says one thing to my face and means the exact opposite. What is going on with her?

He lifted his head, that dark, intense gaze pinning me in place.

[What are you waiting for? Just go already! Do I have to spell every single step out for you?]

He turned away, jaw set in a hard line, and led a quiet Yara back toward the car.

“Malcolm,” I tugged on his arm, my face set in stubborn lines with just a hint of fake pleading. “I won’t let you take her.”

He looked down at me, at my bright eyes all wide and pleading, and for a split second he felt a twinge of reluctance. Maybe he should just put Yara up in a hotel instead, he thought.

He paused, opening his mouth to suggest just that, when he’d have heard my internal cheer:

[A real man doesn’t hold back! If you love her, take her home, show the whole world she’s the one for you!]

Malcolm went quiet.

He immediately tossed that hotel idea right out the window.

Keeping his stony expression, he shook my hand off his arm, and led a silent Yara straight to the car.

“Malcolm…”

My voice trailed off after him, all weak and wronged, and Malcolm paused.

[You two hurry up and go already! I don’t wanna miss my dinner rolls—that place gets packed, remember?]

Malcolm’s gaze swept over me, cold as ice, and I froze, confused for a second what I’d done wrong. He just climbed into the driver’s seat and peeled off with Yara before I could say another word.

I pouted, still confused about that last look he gave me.

Come on. I’m over here playing the bad guy just to get my favorite couple together. The least they could do is be grateful, right?

I treated myself to a rich, spicy pasta at a cute little bistro all on my own, then caught a late movie before heading back to my parents’ place. My phone stayed dead silent all evening—eerily so. It wasn’t surprising, though. Even if Malcolm doesn’t remember me anymore, I still have to stick to the script. I have to live through the heartbreak, I have to mess up all the sweet little moments between him and Yara.

Before I walked in the door, I smoothed my face into the right expression, forcing it to look as broken-hearted and gloomy as my role calls for.

Stepping into the living room, I found my parents—Olivia and Gustavo—getting ready to call it a night. When they saw I’d come back alone, that curiosity and worry immediately pricked at them.

"Jolie, honey, what’s going on with you tonight?" my mom asked, craning her neck to peek behind me hopefully. When she didn’t spot Malcolm’s familiar frame, she added, "You came home alone? Where on earth is Malcolm?"

My chest heavy, I tossed my purse onto the couch and wrapped my arms around her, letting the frustration spill out. "Mom, don’t even get me started. I was with Malcolm today, and we ran into Yara. He just dumped me right there on the street and took off after her."

"That Malcolm boy, how dare he pull something like that?" Dad frowned deep, his displeasure plain as day.

Mom paused, thinking it over for a minute. "Yara… Is that the woman you mentioned earlier, the one crying all over Malcolm?" she asked, her tone serious.

I nodded, my throat tight with that wronged ache. "Yeah, that’s her."

"Unbelievable," Gustavo slammed his palm down on the coffee table. "You’re engaged. He’s supposed to act like it. How can Malcolm treat you this way?"

I nodded right along with him. "Exactly! He left me, his own fiancée, standing alone on the street just to run off with another woman."

This wasn’t just an insult to me—it was a slap in the face to both our families, who’d arranged this engagement together.

"Mom, Dad," I sniffled, fanning the flames a little more, "you have to stand with me on this."

"Don’t you worry, honey," Olivia soothed me. "I’ll talk to Malcolm’s family first thing tomorrow."

As their only cherished daughter, who’d never been disrespected like this before, of course my parents weren’t going to let Malcolm walk all over me. True to her word, Mom called me the next morning, urging me to head straight over to the Salazar family home.

I was a little caught off guard—I hadn’t expected things to move this fast.

Malcolm had disrespected everyone by dragging another woman home without a single care for my feelings, and my parents had made sure his family knew every last detail.

When I walked into the Salazar living room, Malcolm was already standing there, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

"Malcolm, how could you do something so hurtful to Jolie right in front of her?" Malcolm’s mom snapped, clearly fuming. "Do you even remember what you promised me yesterday?"

He stayed totally calm. "What I promised you doesn’t get in the way of helping a colleague."

That almost sent her over the edge. She tugged hard on his sleeve, reminding him my mom was right there in the room—he could at least pretend to feel bad.

Glancing over at my mom, who wasn’t looking any happier than his own was, Malcolm softened his tone. "Olivia, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have left Jolie alone on the street. It won’t happen again."

Even after his little apology, Mom’s face stayed just as stiff as before.

He’d totally side-stepped any mention of Yara, like bringing her home to the family estate was no big deal at all. In his mind, he was just doing a coworker a favor.

"Malcolm, fix that attitude," his mom ordered, clearly fed up with him.

Her irritation was obvious, and it just kept growing with how dismissive he was being.

"Malcolm!" she finally blew up, furious at his constant indifference when this was such a serious matter.

Malcolm stood there, a faint frown on his face, watching his mom get angrier and angrier.

She couldn’t hold back anymore—she reached for that old wooden spoon she’d used to discipline him since he was a kid, ready to knock some sense into him right then and there.

My mom stepped in just in time, stopping her before she could move, and called me over to them.

When I got there, I saw Malcolm’s mom was already crying, bemoaning how hard it was raising Malcolm, how he always had her worrying over stupid stuff even when it came to something as big as marriage.

Mom sat right beside her, patting her back and calming her down.

Malcolm plopped down on the sofa across from them, his face as cold as ice.

I glanced at that big, solid wooden spoon sitting on the table, and my heart gave a little jump.

[Oh wow, they’re really about to do the whole mom discipline thing?]

[Ha! He deserves this for once. Serves him right.]

Malcolm snapped a sharp look right at me, that gaze cutting straight through me, no going around it.

I looked away quickly and greeted his mom politely.

When she saw me, she waved me over. "Jolie, honey, what do you think we should do to fix this?" She shot Malcolm a withering glare before turning back to me, "Whatever you decide, I’ve got your back one hundred percent."

I sat down between the two moms, hesitating under Malcolm’s unblinking stare, then finally said, "Auntie, Malcolm didn’t really do anything all that wrong. All we need is for Yara to move out of Malcolm’s place, and we can pretend this whole thing never happened."

"You hear that, young man?" his mom scolded. "I will never let that troublemaker set foot on any Salazar property ever again."

I bit my lip, twisting my hands nervously in my lap under my dress.

[Malcolm, don’t back down now.]

[Yara only has you. Don’t leave her hanging now, come on.]

[Just tell your mom you love her, you can’t live without her, and you want to call off our engagement!]

[Go public with you and Yara, so she can come and go from your place whenever she wants!]

There was a faint, amused glint in Malcolm’s otherwise cold eyes as he watched me fidget. He let out a low, deep chuckle.

That chuckle only made his mom even madder—it felt like he was straight up mocking her authority. She was just about to tear into him again when Malcolm cut her off.

"Mom. Let me talk to Jolie alone."

With that, he headed outside first.

My stomach twisted with a mix of anxiety and curiosity, so I followed him out.

In the garden gazebo, Malcolm stood with one hand tucked into his jeans pocket, the other hanging loose at his side. He had a cigarette lit between his fingers, the cherry glowing bright as pale smoke curled up into the cool air.

"Malcolm…" I started, not totally sure why he’d dragged me out here alone.

Malcolm flicked the ash off his cigarette, his dark eyes locked steady on me.

"Jolie. If I told you there’s nothing going on between me and Yara, would you believe me?"

I said nothing.

[I don’t believe it now. But there will be, soon enough. The future’s already written.]

"Malcolm, you brought a woman who clearly has feelings for you back to your family home. Do you really expect me to believe nothing happened between you two?" I answered with a bitter little smile. "At the end of the day, this is my fault. I was too stubborn. I walked away from what we had, and three years overseas… That was just too long."

"Jolie, that’s not what I meant," Malcolm exhaled slowly, sharp menthol fumes curling around him. "I thought after everything we’ve been through, you’d get where I’m coming from."

I didn’t say a word.

[Seriously? Does he actually expect me to buy that? After everything he’s put me through?]

[This guy is unbelievable. Always hiding behind some stupid excuse for his own garbage.]

Malcolm looked thrown off by my silence. Still, I kept my mask steady. "I don’t get it, Malcolm. There’s no excuse for what you did to me." I forced myself to step closer, lacing my fingers through his, and stared deep into his eyes with all the fake sweetness I could muster. "Malcolm, we’re engaged now. Let’s not let anyone come between us, okay?"

On the outside, I kept the act going. On the inside?

[Ugh, I’m this close to puking all over his nice shoes.]

Malcolm was completely confused.

"Jolie," he said, low and grave, "Yara and I aren’t what you think. There’s nothing between us. I chose you to be my fiancée, and I’m sticking to that. You don’t have anything to worry about."

I stared up at his earnest, stupid-handsome face and nodded slow, my jaw tight enough that my muscles ached from not twitching:

[This man deserves a fucking Oscar. That performance awards-level good.]

[Engaged to me and still stringing another woman along. Who even knows how many times he’s cheated behind my back?]

Malcolm sighed deep, his brows furrowing hard.

He stubbed his cigarette out in an ashtray. Smoke twisted up toward the ceiling before it faded into nothing.

"Jolie, I haven’t done a single thing to betray you," he insisted, his face all sincere as he gripped my shoulders. His dark eyes held my reflection clear as day. "Yara and I are strictly professional."

"I believe you, Malcolm," I answered soft, my eyes wide and bright. "It’s just Yara I don’t trust. She’s too clever for her own good."

[Sorry, Yara, for talking trash behind your back. I swear I didn’t mean it… not really anyway.]

[You’re actually the nicest Yara, I totally don’t think you’re a scheming little fox… okay, maybe I do a little.]

[It’s all his fault! This man is impossible!]

Malcolm was speechless.

Ignoring the little voice in his head that screamed my inner thoughts, he breathed a sigh of relief. "…I’m glad you trust me."

"Yes," I said, grinning wide. "Malcolm, you’re my man…"

[Ugh—anyone can have him. I wouldn’t touch this guy for free.]

Malcolm’s face twisted for half a second, but he heard me finish: "I don’t want my man sharing a roof with another woman."

Still reeling from my disgusted inner rant, he blurted out, "So what do you want to do about it?"

"So…" I hesitated, stepping even closer, and let my fingers toy with the knot of his tie. "Either Yara moves out… or I move in with you."

My voice went soft and husky at the end, hanging in the air, and my perfume curled sweet and subtle between us.

[I swear to god, I’m actually gonna gag this time.]

Malcolm snapped out of his daze: "…" Wow. What a hypocritical woman.

Furrowing his brow, he tugged my hand away from his tie and spoke cold. "That’s not possible."

I was caught off guard for a second.

"Like I said, I haven’t betrayed you. You’re overreacting."

With that, he turned and walked out.

Behind his back, I muttered under my breath:

[Of course it’s fine for him to live with another woman, but not his fiancée. What a total jerk. All he’s good for is cheating.]

Malcolm stopped mid-step and turned around.

I fixed my face into a soft, vulnerable little mask, letting hope shine in my eyes:

[What are you looking at? Just leave already, I can’t stand being in the same room as you.]

Malcolm: "…"

He’d initially planned to say something else, but some weird, thick tension hung in the air, pulling him back. He ended up just walking away with that cold, blank look on his face.

In the car, Malcolm leaned back against the leather seat and closed his eyes.

His whole demeanor was frosty, walled off behind that cold aloofness he always carried.

The driver hesitated for a minute, then asked careful, "Mr. Salazar, where to next?"

Malcolm rubbed his temples, never opening his eyes. "The hospital."

He needed to check if something was wrong with him.

Why the hell can he hear Jolie’s thoughts?

A little while later, he held the doctor’s report in his hand, his face dark as a thunderstorm.

The report said everything was perfectly normal.

As for why he could hear Jolie’s inner voice, Malcolm kept it to himself. He didn’t want people thinking he was crazy.

When he got back to the apartment after work, he turned the handle and opened the door. Yara was there, grinning, holding a spatula and wearing an apron. "Malcolm, you’re home! I made something really good for dinner."

He followed her gaze to the dining table, and it was loaded with all his favorite dishes.

He tossed his jacket over the sofa carelessly and said flatly, "We have staff for this. You don’t have to do it yourself."

Yara grabbed the jacket off the sofa and hung it on the rack, answering light, "Taking care of your needs is part of my job as your secretary. Besides, I wanted to make you a special dinner to say thank you for letting me stay here."

She smiled and winked playful.

Malcolm’s lips tugged up in a tiny, almost unnoticeable smile. He lifted his hand like he was going to ruffle her hair, then thought better of it and let it drop.

"I’m gonna go wash my hands."

Yara nodded, watching him walk away, a faint shadow of sadness crossing her face.

He’d clearly wanted to touch her. Why did he stop all of a sudden?

When Malcolm came back to the table, Yara was back to her bright, cheerful self. She quickly ladled a bowl of warm soup for him. "Malcolm, I spent all afternoon making this, you have to try it."

"Alright."

Malcolm lowered his head, just about to take a sip, when someone knocked on the front door.

The housekeeper hurried to open it, and I walked in, dragging a big suitcase behind me.

I noticed all their faces drop, but I didn’t feel even a little embarrassed. I just smiled warm and bright: "Hi, everyone!"

[I, Jolie, am back to claim what’s mine!]

Malcolm almost burst out laughing, but he choked it back at the last second.

He frowned, pulling on that stern, serious face he does. "Why are you here?"

I pouted and sauntered over to the table, dropping hard into a chair. "Duh, I came to spend time with my fiancé."

I snuck a glance at Yara, who looked like she wanted to disappear into the floorboards, and let my voice drip with provocation. "I guess I was a little too late. Who knows if someone already tried to steal him away from me?"

The meaning couldn’t have been clearer. Yara shifted uncomfortable, biting her lip so hard it went pale, and stared at her lap.

"Didn’t I tell you not to come here?"