Chapter 1My Brother’s Wrath

My brother died in a fire saving my three best friends.

After that, they started taking care of me, rotating the duty of being my boyfriend. But it didn’t take long for them to grow sick of it.

Robby was the first to crack. “I can’t stand her goddamn attitude anymore,” he’d snapped. “Can we just ship her off to a psychiatric hospital?”

Sean, ever the diplomat, sighed. “Just hang in there a little longer. Once we graduate, we’ll find some guy to marry her off to, and then we’ll finally be free.”

And Ian, my current boyfriend, said coldly, “My time is up. Help me figure out a way to make her break up with me.”

So much for childhood friendship. So much for the life debt they owed my brother. In the end, I was nothing but a burden.

Fine, I thought. I’ll give you exactly what you want.

* * *

My birthday party was just like every year before.

Ian and the others had planned the whole thing. This time, they promised me a surprise. I was actually looking forward to it.

But when the day arrived, the mansion’s grand hall was filled with a raucous, screaming crowd of strangers. I sat on the sofa by the French windows, watching them from a distance, my face a mask of cold disgust.

Robby sauntered over, a glass of milk in one hand, the other stuffed casually in his pocket. His hair was slicked back with wax, revealing a sharp, handsome brow and piercing eyes. A few artfully messy strands fell forward, and his smile was anything but innocent. His suit jacket was unbuttoned, his shirt open just enough to reveal the chiseled lines of his chest with every slight movement. He was pure playboy, oozing a casual charm that I’d always despised. It was the kind of sloppiness I couldn’t stand.

But we’d broken up a long time ago. It wasn't my place to control him.

And now, I no longer wanted to.

I took the warm milk he offered, listening to him drone on about how I shouldn't be such a recluse, how I needed to make more friends—all the usual bullshit.

For the first time, I didn’t argue. I didn’t get angry.

A flicker of surprise crossed Robby’s face. He leaned in, his voice hesitant. “…What’s wrong? Who pissed off our little princess this time?”

I cradled the glass, my gaze drifting across the room. It landed on our young housekeeper, who was blushing furiously as she spoke to my boyfriend, Ian.

Still, I remained calm. I said nothing.

“Nothing,” I told Robby, my voice flat. “You’re right.”

His expression turned strange. He couldn’t tell if I was being genuine or if this was the dangerous calm before a hurricane.

Suddenly, I pointed. “Who’s that?”

Robby followed my gaze and immediately spotted the man who stood out from the crowd. He was tall and slender, dressed in casual clothes, yet he carried himself with an effortless grace that spoke of old money and quiet confidence. He didn't look like one of the university classmates Robby and the others would have invited.

“Oh, him?” Robby said. “He’s a new lecturer in our department. Pretty young. I think he’s also the school’s new guidance counselor.”

Robby stroked his chin, a sneer playing on his lips. He mentioned that the man’s classes were wildly popular with the female students, and his counseling sessions were always fully booked. He muttered something about not knowing if the guy was there to teach or to flirt. In short, a player.

The more he tried to put the man down, the more interested I became.

I cut him off. “What’s his name?”

Robby froze. He looked from the man back to me, his brow slowly furrowing. He tried for a casual smile, avoiding a direct answer. “Why do you ask?”

I ignored him.

Just then, the music in the grand hall shifted to a slow, elegant melody, and couples began to drift onto the dance floor. And Ian, my cold, distant boyfriend, who had just caught the clumsy, fake stumble of the young housekeeper, still had his hand firmly on her. He looked down, she looked up, and for a moment, they were a still, intimate portrait in the swirling crowd. The space between them was charged, an almost visible thread of intimacy.

Robby and the others knew I couldn’t tolerate that. In the past, if any of them so much as spoke to another girl, I’d become a paranoid, quivering mess of suspicion and rage, my words turning into sharp needles that wounded them as much as they wounded me. It was exhausting for everyone. So, they learned to be careful, to keep their distance from other women. Even a flirt like Robby had toed that line for me.

What I didn't know was that this had become their favorite tool to get rid of me.

My mind drifted back. The last time I broke up with Sean. The time before that, with Robby. It was always the same. I would explode in a fit of jealous, possessive rage. And they would deftly sidestep, calling it a “misunderstanding.” They’d even manage to seize the moral high ground, accusing me of not trusting them, of being unreasonable.

I would be consumed by guilt, my self-worth crumbling. I’d cry myself to sleep for nights on end. And finally, like tearing a piece of my own heart out, I would be the one to initiate the breakup, setting them free.

On the surface, they’d act regretful, disappointed. But behind my back, I can only imagine their sighs of relief.

And now, Ian was pulling the same trick.

I watched him and our housekeeper, their bodies so close. The taste in my mouth was bitter, but the fire in my chest was gone. I was just a burden to them. If getting rid of me without an ounce of guilt was their collective wish, then I was willing to grant it.

I stared at Ian for a long, long time. So long that he finally felt my gaze and was about to turn and meet my eyes.

That’s when I stood up and walked in the opposite direction.