Same old story. That's how men are. They commit mistakes, they realize when they do it and they always apologize—never change.

Wyatt knew Sloan was a clean freak and she hated people touching her stuff, yet he still brought someone into their home and let them touch her personal things.

Was it all for the thrill of it? Testing the waters again and again, pushing her limits just to get her on edge? Did he really not know?

That nightgown was her favorite—the one she had blushed over when he first bought it for her. He had been so young and earnest back then, whispering in her ear over and over, “I love you, Sloan. Having you is the luckiest thing that’s ever happened to me. I swear I’ll never let you down.”

And she had believed him–thought her Cinderella moment had finally come. But not every Cinderella gets her prince.

If she weren’t the daughter of the wealthy Tanner Family, they would’ve split up a long time ago.

Tears spilled down Sloan’s cheeks. Wyatt panicked, fumbling to wipe them away. “Oh, no. Please, don’t cry. Seeing you cry hurts me more than anything. I swear I’ll never let anyone else into our home again, okay?”

Wyatt’s voice trembled with sincerity as he knelt on the floor, his hands clutching hers like a lifeline. His eyes were wide with desperation, silently begging for her forgiveness.

Sloan studied his remorseful face for a long moment, then smiled faintly through her tears. “That’s alright. It’s just a nightgown. I’ll throw it away. Not a big deal.” Her tone was calm, almost too calm. “While I was tidying up, I suddenly remembered that my mother’s death anniversary is coming. I guess I got a little carried away.”

“You scared me for a second there,” Wyatt said, exhaling sharply. He pressed a hand to his chest as if trying to steady his racing heart. His tone softened, almost childlike. “When you started packing without saying anything, I thought you were leaving me.”

He nuzzled her neck, his arms tightening around her as if afraid she might slip away.

“I promised you, didn’t I?” Sloan said softly, pushing him away with gentle firmness. “As long as you don’t betray me, I’ll never leave you.”

Her voice sharpened slightly as she added, “By the way, why are you so nervous? Are you hiding something from me? Did you cheat on me?”

Wyatt’s breath hitched. His eyes widened in alarm. “Of course not! You’re the only love of my life, Sloan,” He quickly held up his hand, his voice trembling. “You have to believe me. I swear to God—if I ever betray you, may I die alone and miserable!”

Then she chuckled softly. “I’m just messing with you,” she said, her eyes glinting with quiet amusement. A soft laugh slipped past her lips. “You love me too much to betray me.”

But deep down, she knew better. Men are greedy. They want the comfort of home and the thrill of something new. Lies come so easily to them.

She wondered if, when the day finally came, he would feel even the slightest trace of regret.

Wyatt rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze darting away. “Yeah, you’re the only one I love.”

The tense moment was broken by the sound of something heavy crashing to the floor downstairs, followed by Carol’s delicate sobbing. Wyatt’s expression remained calm, but his body tensed.

“I’m going to check it,” Wyatt said baring light smile. “Please, stop crying, okay? Or you'll get your eyes swollen and you won’t look good for the wedding.” 

Sloan nodded wordlessly and he left the room. His steps were quick and slightly uneven—a subtle giveaway of his guilt.

Sloan had no intention of going downstairs to watch them play out their little drama.

But the noise from below was impossible to ignore.

First, someone shouted for a private doctor. Then, there was talk of possible amputation. It all sounded like a full-blown emergency.

Curiosity got the better of her.

When she walked downstairs, she found Carol sitting on the couch, her foot propped up on Wyatt’s lap. Her ankle had a faint bruise—barely enough to warrant a bandaid.

Yet Wyatt was handling it as if she were made of glass. He cradled her foot with both hands, gently massaging the injured spot, his face lined with worry.

Carol’s cheeks were flushed, her breath coming out in soft gasps.

An uncomfortable tension hung in the air between them, charged with an intimacy that went beyond sibling affection.

Anyone watching would’ve assumed they were lovers.

Sloan felt like the intruder—the other woman coming between them. Her gaze dropped to her arm, where faint scars trailed down her skin.

All those years ago, Wyatt had said he just wanted to know what it felt like to have a real home. So she had learned how to cook. How to keep their home clean. She had tried to make their house feel warm and inviting.

At first, Wyatt had been touched. He would bandage her cuts, kiss her wounds and tell her to be careful. But over time, his kindness faded. Eventually, he started telling her not to bother cooking because he’d be working late.

She hadn’t seen this tender side of him in a long time. 

Maybe it was her burning gaze that made Wyatt finally notice her standing there. He tensed slightly and set Carol’s foot down, his tone soft as he explained, “Sloan? Why are you come down? The doctor said massaging the ankle would help with the pain.” 

Sloan barely keeping a laugh escaping from her at how pathetic that excuse sounded. The house was full of staff. There was no reason for him to be the one tending to Carol personally.

Before she could say anything, Carol let out a breathy whimper. “Ow! Wyatt, you’re hurting me.”

Her voice was soft and pleading. Wyatt’s attention immediately shifted back to her.

Sloan’s nails dug into her palms, the sting doing nothing to dull the ache in her chest.

Carol ended up staying the night. Even though Wyatt had promised to never let anyone else into their home. But of course, how could he turn away from the delicate rose he had nurtured so carefully?

After all, Sloan was starting to feel like the outsider here.

***

Night fell.

Sloan lay in bed, unable to sleep.

Wyatt finally returned hours later, slipping into bed beside her. But just as he settled in, his phone buzzed. He sat up abruptly, shut off the ringer and checked his messages.

The glow from the screen reflected the curve of his lips. Whatever he was reading had clearly put him in a good mood.

Sloan’s eyes narrowed in the darkness.

Sensing her gaze, Wyatt tucked the phone away and leaned down to kiss her forehead.

“Sorry, Sloan. Did I wake you? Work’s been crazy. I need to head to the study to take care of some work. You’re pregnant—you should get more rest. I’ll come back to bed once I’m done.”

Sloan murmured, “Okay.”

Wyatt waited until her breathing evened out before slipping out of bed.

Once he was gone, Sloan’s eyes shot open. She followed him.

Wyatt didn’t stop at the study. He walked past it and headed to the guest room.

After a brief pause, the door creaked open. A pale hand shot out and caught the front of his tie, pulling him inside.

A flash of black lace peeked from beneath the robe as Carol wrapped her leg around his waist, her tone teasing and seductive. “What’s wrong? You don’t like this outfit? Or…” Her eyes glinted mischievously. “Would you prefer the bunny costume?” 

Wyatt’s dark eyes flashed with desire, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he growled under his breath, “You’re playing your fire. You know Sloan’s just down the hall.”

Carol grabbed his hand, guiding it beneath the lace while her lips curled into a smirk. “Isn’t that what makes it even more exciting? You say no, but your body tells a different story.”

Her words were cut off when Wyatt’s mouth crashed against hers.

Fabric tore as Wyatt pulled at the flimsy lace, leaving it in shreds on the floor. Their moans echoed through the empty house.

Sloan stood in the shadows, her heart shattering into pieces. She had known—somewhere deep down, she had always known about them—but seeing it with her own eyes was an entirely different kind of pain.

Their sounds of pleasure stabbed at her like knives, each one cutting deeper until blood pooled in her chest, squeezing her heart.

She sank to the floor, pressing her forehead to her knees to stifle her sobs.

Six years of devotion—gone in an instant.

Carol had always flaunted her connection with Wyatt, always challenged Sloan with that smug look. Sloan had ignored it, convinced that Wyatt loved her more. She had done everything for him, molding herself into the perfect partner, meeting his every need.

Wyatt had made her feel like the luckiest woman alive.

But this? This was a loss she couldn’t recover from.

At some point, Sloan picked herself up from the floor and returned to the bedroom. She grabbed the carefully wrapped gift she had prepared earlier that day and tossed it into the trash.

Anything tainted should’ve been thrown away long ago. From now on, she would start purging every trace of him from her life.

***

Maybe it was the wild night they’d had—because by morning, the house was swarming with staff. The maids were whispering among themselves, eyeing the closed study door with knowing glances.

When Sloan approached, they scattered, nervously trying to divert her attention.

Ignoring them, Sloan pushed open the door.

Inside, Wyatt and Carol were curled up on the couch together.

Their clothes were intact, suggesting they’d cleaned up and fallen asleep afterward.

Wyatt’s eyes flew open. He bolted upright, barking at the staff, “Get out!”

Then he turned toward Sloan, his face softening into that practiced look of concern. “Babe, don’t get the wrong idea. Carol is my sister. Her foot was hurting, so I gave her some massage. We must’ve fallen asleep afterward.”

The head maid stepped forward, backing him up. “It’s true, Miss Sloan. I brought the ointment myself. Mr. Wyatt was exhausted from work—he must’ve dozed off.”

Sloan’s gaze hardened as it swept over the maid.

So they all knew.

Everyone in this house had known for a long time—and yet they’d all lied to her.

Her stomach twisted with disgust. She rushed to the bathroom and threw up until her throat burned. Her reflection in the mirror was ghostly pale, stripped of the grace and poise she had once taken pride in.