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A soft knock at the door barely stirs me. I don’t have the strength to get up.

Two seconds later, I hear the keypad beep. The code is entered. Approved. The door opens.

My living room fills with all my brothers and Liam and Zayn.

No one speaks at first. The air is thick with unspoken tension. Ethan strides over to the coffee table and slams a heavy folder down with a sound that echoes through the room.

I raise an eyebrow, locking eyes with him. His gaze is unwavering, cold but steady, before he finally breaks the silence.

“You were drugged that night,” he says flatly, like stating a fact, but with anger in his voice. “With something that’s not easily detected in your system. That’s why you don't remember a thing.”

He pauses, letting it sink in.

“That woman and one of her friends took you to that hotel room. The security footage from the bar clearly shows her slipping something into your drink. Then they helped you out of the club. There are no cameras in the hotel room, but…” He hesitates briefly. “Our friends got her to talk. Using their methods.”

Nobody asks which friends—because we all know. We’re all tangled in the same web, with connections that run deep.

“The point is, nothing happened between you two. She tried, but you passed out the moment they dropped you on that bed. She undressed you, got naked herself, and climbed in beside you—just to make it look real. That’s when she took those pictures too.”

“I can’t believe there are women like that out there,” Noah mutters, rage simmering in his voice.

I stare at Ethan, stunned. My heart should be pounding, my chest should be flooded with relief—but I feel nothing.

Just numbness. Cold, hollow numbness.

“What are you going to do, Nick?” Liam’s voice breaks through the silence, low and quiet.

I know what he means. Sierra. And I get it—he’s her brother and also my best friend. He’s stuck in the middle, somehow. But I know he’ll always put her first. As he should.

“Nothing,” I say, voice barely more than a whisper. „I’m flying back to London tonight. I need time. Time to figure out my life, to sort through this chaos. The way I lived before…”

I trail off, swallowing the words I want to say—before Sierra. I can’t bring myself to speak her name now.

“It’s my fault. I ended up in this mess because I drank too much. Partied too hard. I was constantly surrounded by women who wanted one thing—me, my fame. I convinced myself that was the life I wanted, that it was thrilling, worth it.”

I take a slow sip of whiskey, letting it burn through whatever remains of my feelings.

“But it’s not. In the last month, I can’t believe it’s only been a month, I realized what I actually want—peace, stability. A life surrounded by the people I love.”

“Then why are you living without…?” Zayn begins, but the doorbell rings, cutting him off. Once, then twice.

Noah groans, getting up. “For fuck’s sake.”

But he doesn’t reach the door. Someone punches in the code—which, clearly, I need to change if everyone and their dog knows it—and the door swings open.

Sierra stands there. Thalia right behind her.

The second I see her, a sharp stab rips through my chest. My stomach twists violently and, for a moment, I’m sure I’m going to throw up everything I’ve been drinking.

Sierra.

My wife.

The woman who’s supposed to trust me unconditionally. To love me, to respect me.

Her eyes glisten, rimmed with tears that haven’t fallen yet, as she steps inside.

“Nick, please.” Her voice is so fragile, I can barely hear it. “We need to talk.”