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.

Wyatt’s eyes widened in panic as he rushed toward Sloan, gently patting her back while calling for a doctor.

It wasn’t until the private doctor arrived and confirmed it was just normal morning sickness that Wyatt finally relaxed. But the sweat beading on his forehead and soaking the back of his shirt made it clear how shaken he was.

Anyone who didn’t know better would have thought he was madly in love with her.

But Sloan felt nothing but cold emptiness. The happiness she once treasured had dissolved into bitterness and pain.

It was at that moment she finally understood the truth: people only let you see what they want you to see.

Love was no different.

Even the love she’d once been so proud of had been nothing more than an elaborate act from Wyatt.

Wyatt was still talking, trying to explain himself. When he noticed her obvious disinterest, he suddenly smiled as if he had a surprise in store. “Baby, don’t be upset. I’m taking you somewhere special.”

His tone was light, hinting at excitement.

Sloan wanted to refuse, but the very air in the house felt tainted, making her nauseous.

Soon, they pulled up to a quiet shopping district.

Wyatt helped her out of the car with his usual careful attention, as if nothing had happened the night before.

Sloan pulled her hand away from his grip and looked around, avoiding his face.

Her gaze landed on a perfume shop. She froze.

It was Wyatt’s favorite brand — particularly the rose scent. Because he liked it so much, Sloan had swapped all her perfumes for rose-scented ones.

But he had once said, “Baby, I actually prefer the cooler, fresher scent you used to wear.”

At the time, Sloan had felt a surge of warmth, thinking it was because he truly loved her.

But after Carol entered the picture, everything made sense.

Sloan had seen a post on Carol’s social media — a live photo of a man burying his face in her neck like a lovesick puppy. He was holding a bottle of that exact rose perfume.

Sloan had even left a sincere comment: “Wishing you and your boyfriend a lifetime of happiness.”

Looking back now, she realized how pathetic she had been.

Wyatt noticed her lingering gaze on the shop and immediately said, “Baby, you used to love this brand, right? We’ve got time — let’s go take a look!”

Sloan’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “Used to. Not anymore.”

Wyatt hesitated for a second, then quickly recovered. “That’s okay, baby. Just tell me what you like now — I’ll buy you anything you want.”

There was a time when such sugary words would have made Sloan’s heart race.

But now they only made her stomach churn.

Especially after last night.

Sloan’s voice was flat. “No need. I’m pregnant, so I can’t wear perfume anyway. And you said before that this scent didn’t suit me, right? No point in forcing it.”

Neither of them spoke on the way to the bridal shop.

As soon as they walked in, a smiling sales assistant greeted them. “You must be the future Mrs. Grant. You’re stunning!”

Wyatt’s smile brightened. “Baby, our wedding is just around the corner. Your custom dress is ready and the necklace I ordered for you has arrived too. You’re going to love it.”