The day Romeo Sterling and I got back together, he posted a photo of us on his Instagram.

I stared at the post for a full three minutes before I noticed the familiar "Close Friends" icon in the top right corner. As it turned out, Romeo had made the post visible to everyone except his adopted sister, Chloe Sterling.

This was the sister he had always cherished above anyone else.

I calmly met Romeo's eyes. "If you'd rather be with Chloe, I can call off the engagement anytime."

A flash of panic crossed Romeo’s face. In front of everyone, he removed the restriction, making the post public for the entire New York Upper East Side to witness our reconciliation.

Half an hour later, at a charity gala, Chloe rushed toward us, wearing only a thin formal gown. Then, she promptly “fainted” into Romeo’s arms.

I watched as Romeo carefully gathered Chloe into his arms and carried her toward the car. He moved with a practiced ease that suggested he’d done this hundreds, if not thousands, of times before.

In that moment, I realized I was utterly exhausted with my engagement to Romeo.

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1

The day we got back together, Romeo Sterling posted two photos of us on his Instagram.

In one, we were standing side-by-side on the terrace of his penthouse, the glittering New York City skyline sprawling behind us. The caption read: "A new beginning, with the stars as our witness."

I stared at the photo for a long time before my eyes caught the green star icon in the top right corner. He’d set the post to "Close Friends," and Chloe Sterling was not on the list.

"Happy now?" Romeo's voice came from behind me. He slid his phone across the marble countertop. "Next time, try not to make a scene over something so trivial."

I looked up at him. This was the face I had been infatuated with for three long years. From the moment I first saw him on my twenty-fifth birthday, standing in the spotlight of a charity gala, his blue eyes glinting with a light so captivating, I knew I was lost.

My name is Sloane Dawson, an architect from a perfectly ordinary middle-class family. Romeo is the sole heir to the Sterling Group. We inhabited completely different worlds.

I had fought tooth and nail for three years just to earn a place by his side.

It always came back to the same thing. "Chloe's heart is weak," he would say. "She's my sister. Don't be so hard on her."

The last time we broke up, it was because Chloe wanted him to keep her company on our anniversary. They stayed at their Long Island villa until dawn. When I asked him if he’d forgotten our date, he told me I was overreacting.

When I tried to end things, he just said, "Do whatever you want."

He said it because he knew I could never bring myself to cut ties with him. For the past three years, I was always the one who caved.

This time, as I stood before him, I was struck by a quiet realization: my heart wasn't pounding.

Maybe I didn't love him anymore.

"You hid this from Chloe," I stated.

His back went rigid. "She hasn't been well. She can't handle any extra stress."

"So I'm the one you have to hide?"

He froze.

"Romeo," I said, my voice steady, "you and Chloe aren't related by blood."

He pressed his lips into a thin line.

"If she's the one you want, I can call off the engagement. You two can be together."

The moment the words left my mouth, even I was surprised.

For the past three years, any time Chloe was involved, I would lose my composure. I would scream and demand answers, tears in my eyes as I accused him of playing favorites.

But now, telling him he could be with her, my tone was as calm as if I were discussing blueprints for my next project.

Romeo stared at me, his eyes filled with shock and… was that a flicker of panic?

"Enough!" His familiar, domineering presence flared, charging the air with a heavy tension.

I didn't even flinch. The force that once made me want to yield now washed over me like a light breeze, leaving no trace.

Even my pulse was unnaturally steady. It no longer hammered in response to his moods.

Romeo stared at me for a long moment before his voice softened. "That was inconsiderate of me."

He picked up his phone and re-uploaded the photo. This time, it was a close-up, the Cartier diamond bracelet on my wrist in sharp focus.

He changed the caption: "We're back together. Renewing our engagement at the end of the summer."

The post was public.

He reached out, as if to touch the bracelet, but I instinctively pulled my hand away.

A sudden, sharp irritation pricked at me.

"If there's nothing else, I need to get to the gala," I said, turning to go.

I had only taken a few steps when I paused.

Knowing Chloe, she’d be here any minute.

The thought had barely formed when a commotion at the ballroom entrance announced Chloe's arrival.

Chloe darted into the ballroom, barefoot, her silk gown billowing in the frigid blast of the air conditioning.

The moment she saw Romeo, tears streamed down her face. "Romeo, you got back together with her…" Before she could finish, she swayed and collapsed.

Romeo lunged forward, catching her by instinct. "Chloe, wake up! Call the family doctor!" Without a single glance in my direction, he all but carried Chloe from the room, determined to get her home himself.

I remained where I was, watching his retreating figure. The light refracting through the tower of champagne flutes felt suddenly chilly.

I rejoined my friends, picking up a flute of champagne. The pale gold liquid swirled in the crystal, looking chilled and remote.

I took a sip, the bubbles popping sharply on my tongue.

In the past, I would have stormed out after them, ready for a confrontation.

Now, however, all I wanted was to chat with my friends about a new art exhibit.

That was infinitely more satisfying than watching this melodrama unfold.

After about twenty minutes, the sharp click of heels sounded behind me. I set down my glass and turned.

Chloe stood a short distance away, draped in Romeo’s suit jacket. Her face was still pale, but her eyes were clear and bright.

"The board members called Romeo into a meeting," she said softly. "He told me to come back and get some rest."

I glanced at the dust on her bare feet. She'd been sent home, only to "recover" with remarkable speed and return.

"You know," she leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper as her wine-scented breath brushed my ear, "I 'woke up' on the way to the car. He whispered to me, 'Don't be afraid, I'll always be by your side.'"

The evening breeze drifted in from the terrace, lifting a corner of the jacket.

"Sloane." Her eyes curved into an icy, sharp smile. "You'll never beat me."

Those words used to feel like a knife twisting in my gut. Now, I just nodded.

"Is that all?"

She looked stunned.

"If you're finished, you should go lie down," I said, turning back to my friends. "Since you're not feeling well, you should get some proper rest."

A waiter topped off my champagne.

A few seconds of silence passed before I heard her retreating footsteps, followed by the soft thud of his jacket hitting the carpet.

See? She could toss his things aside without a second thought.

And he treated me as if I were untouchable.

I bent down, picked up the jacket, and brushed off a speck of non-existent dust before handing it to a nearby waiter.

My movements were fluid, my heart calm.

What on earth had I been fighting for all this time?

As I was getting ready to leave, the grand clock in the ballroom struck nine. Romeo returned from his meeting, a deep furrow still etched between his brows.

"Sloane." He stopped in front of me, his tone cautious. "I have to fly to London for a few days. I'm leaving early tomorrow morning."

"Mm," I murmured, smoothing the front of my dress.

"Three days," he said, pausing. "Chloe's been a bit unstable lately. The doctor said it's best if someone looks after her." He met my gaze. "Why don't we let her stay at our place? That way, someone will be there if anything happens."

"I can hire a private nurse," I replied flatly.

"A stranger won't be as attentive," Romeo's voice softened. "Sloane, you know her heart is weak. What if something happens…"

He left the sentence hanging, but the implication was clear.

In the past, his worried tone would have wounded me. Now, it just left me feeling bone-weary.

At some point, Chloe had drifted over. Her voice was faint. "Sloane, you don't have to worry about me, I can manage on my own…"

Romeo immediately turned to her, his voice softening with affection. "Don't be silly. I've already made the arrangements."

In the end, I agreed. Not because I was giving in, but because I was too tired to argue anymore.

That night, Chloe was unusually quiet. Lying beside her in the dark, I could only hear the sound of her steady breathing. No sleep-talking, no tossing and turning.

I closed my eyes and fell asleep quickly.

I woke in the middle of the night, my throat dry. I slipped out of bed to get a glass of water.

I stopped in the doorway.

A single floor lamp cast a dim glow over the living room.

Chloe was curled on the sofa, wrapped in a cashmere blanket. Romeo stood before her, his back to me.

"Are you really going to marry her?" Chloe's voice was soft, but it cut through the silence. "The woman you publicly claimed behind my back?"

Romeo’s voice was heavy with exhaustion. "We agreed, didn't we? After Mom died, we can only be brother and sister."

"Brother and sister?" Chloe scoffed, her voice sharp and cold. "Is that how you kiss your sister? Have you forgotten that night in the Hamptons, when you almost—"

My hand tightened on the doorframe.

They used to date.

Romeo’s back was ramrod straight. "That's in the past. When Mom found out about us, the shock triggered a fatal heart attack. On her deathbed, she made me swear I would never be with you. It’s been impossible for us ever since."

I held my breath.

So that was the truth.

"So you chose her?" Chloe's voice grew shrill. "A middle-class girl with no background, someone who won't cause any trouble? Because you don't dare pursue a relationship your family might actually oppose, right?"

Romeo was silent for a long time.

"Sloane…" He finally spoke, his voice hoarse. "She pursued me for three years. Her feelings for me are real."

"Real?" Chloe’s voice cracked. "Then what about me? What about all those years we dated in secret? All the promises you made, telling me you’d make us public when the time was right?"

Romeo's shoulders slumped. The man who always stood so tall now looked impossibly vulnerable.

"I'm sorry, Chloe," his voice was barely a whisper. "It's the biggest regret of my life."

Just then, Chloe lifted her head.

Her gaze traveled over Romeo's shoulder and locked onto mine in the darkness.

She'd seen me.

I saw a cold, calculating glint in her eyes. Then she tilted her chin up slightly.

Her voice suddenly turned gentle. "Romeo, I only have one last request."

He glanced down at her.

"Kiss me, like we used to. Just this once, just for tonight," she pleaded softly. "Starting tomorrow, I'll try to be just your sister."

Romeo's body tensed. The air around him seemed to thrum with his inner conflict.

"Just one kiss," Chloe’s voice choked with a sob. "And I promise, I'll let go."

Long seconds stretched on, the moonlight creeping across the floor.

Then I saw Romeo slowly lean down, his arms reaching to circle her shoulders.

Chloe immediately pressed her lips to his. Then, from an angle he couldn't see, her eyes met mine again.

A triumphant smile bloomed on her face.

She was putting on a show just for me, and Romeo was her unwitting star.

My heart was surprisingly calm.

I slowly pulled my phone from my robe pocket and started recording.

The soft click of my phone unlocking shattered the night’s silence.

Romeo spun around. The moment he saw me, his blue eyes blew wide with shock, panic, and raw fear.