“Nice digs,” she said, her voice syrupy with sarcasm. “They look exactly the same way they were when I was here too. I see you’re settling in quite well.” A beat. “By the way, I’m Sloane.”
Her eyes flicked around the room before landing back on me, slow and deliberate. She looked me over like I was an outfit she’d never wear—cheap, laughable, temporary.
I folded my arms over my chest, trying to shield what little peace I’d built in the last hour. Her gaze was cold. Clinical. Invasive.
“What do you want?” I asked, sharper than I intended. But I didn’t care. Not anymore.
Sloane leaned casually against the doorway, arms crossed, as if we were two friends catching up. “Just wanted to see what Hades dragged home this time,” she said. Her smile was all teeth. “Didn’t think he’d go for someone like you.”
I stiffened. “Someone like me?”
“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “You really think you’re different? That you’re special?”
The words landed like a slap—sharp and uninvited.
“I’m not here for your approval,” I said, though my voice felt thinner than it should have. I hated that she got to me. Hated that her presence made the floor feel unsteady beneath my feet.
Her smirk widened, like she could smell the insecurity I was trying to drown.
“Oh sweetie,” she cooed. “This isn’t about approval. This is about reality.”
She stepped closer.
One step. Then another. Testing me.
And I didn’t move.
“He always finds a new toy,” she said softly, like a warning wrapped in velvet. “Until he breaks them.”
Her words sank into my skin like frost.
“I’m not a toy,” I snapped, though it came out too fast—too defensive. Like I was trying to convince myself.
She laughed.
A cruel, condescending sound that scraped along every raw nerve I had left.
“You might think you’re different now,” she said, voice dropping to a whisper. “With that ring on your finger. That title beside his name. But trust me…” She leaned in, her perfume overwhelming, her mouth close enough that I could feel the heat of her breath. “You’ll be just like the rest of them before long.”
And for a heartbeat, I couldn’t breathe.
I didn’t blink.
Not once.
I kept my gaze locked on Sloane like she was the only thing standing between me and air. I refused to flinch. Refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing just how deep her words had already cut.
But inside?
Inside, I was a hurricane held together by a thread.
She stood there like a serpent draped in silk—perfectly poised to strike—and I felt every bit of her venom sink beneath my skin.
“Didn’t he tell you?” she asked, head tilting with that insufferably smug smirk. “I was his first fiancée. Before your sister, of course.”
The words hit like a punch to the ribs.
But I didn’t show it.
