“And anyway,” Renzo said with a smug grin, “I’ve already had a taste of Susie. Honestly? Nothing special. Just average.”

“You, though—” His finger slid down Ciara’s collarbone. “You’re spicy. You give me the thrill.”

Laughter erupted between them, low and dirty. The two practically melted into each other, tangled up in kisses.

I stood frozen just outside the room, my fists clenched tight at my sides.

But I held it down. Going off on him now would be like throwing myself at a brick wall—it would only hurt me.

The Powells were one of the most powerful in Manchester. And me… I was just a broke college student in my third year. Just a nobody.

If Renzo wanted to get rid of me, he could do it as easily as stepping on a bug.

I knew that because he’d already done it once.

In my last life, I tried everything—ran away, begged for help, even called the cops. But nothing worked. I was always dragged right back to him.

So this time, I kept my head down, pressed my back to the wall, and crept down the hallway, back to the bedroom. My feet barely made a sound against the floor.

When I slipped into the room, I could still hear the faint sound of their moaning behind me. My chest tightened.

Renzo had known I was in the shower. And still, he brought Ciara into the study and did that with her.

That alone showed he didn’t see me as his girlfriend. Not even close.

Lying on the bed, I could almost feel the heat of that fire from my past life crawling up my skin again. The agony, the helplessness, the hatred—it came rushing back.

I swallowed hard, shoved the memories down, and grabbed the blow dryer.

After drying my hair, I climbed into bed and turned on my side. My fingers curled into the blanket, my eyes wide open in the dark.

My jaw tightened. I wasn’t going to let this life go the same way. I’d find a way out—whatever it took.

Minutes passed. Then I heard footsteps stumbling in the hallway, slow and heavy.

“Hey, hey. Hey—wrong room, bro. It’s this one,” Renzo’s voice said with a laugh.

Soon, the door creaked open. I kept my back to the door, pretending to sleep, even as I heard Renzo guide a clearly drunk Rocco into the room.

The door creaked open. Footsteps stopped just inside.

There was a pause—long enough to make my skin crawl—then the sound of Renzo’s low, satisfied exhale.

I didn’t need to see his face to know he was pleased. Maybe it was the empty glass on the nightstand, or the sight of me curled tightly under the blanket, playing my part.

Then came his voice, smug and casual. “This is your room, bro. Now, get some sleep.”

I felt the mattress shift as Rocco dropped down beside me. A clean, bitter-orange scent filled the air—his cologne, faint and unfamiliar.

The door clicked shut behind Renzo as he left, careful not to make a sound.

But the next second, something was off.

The man beside me suddenly sat upright. His back was straight, his eyes fixed on the ceiling like he was wide awake.

My eyes narrowed. ‘Didn’t he drink the whole cup of coffee? Shouldn’t he be knocked out by now?’

That thought startled me, so I sat up like he’d woken me.

“Renzo?” I mumbled sleepily, rubbing my eyes. “Why’d you come in so late?”

Rocco turned his head slowly to look at me. Moonlight filtered through the window, lighting up his face.

His eyes were cold, sharp—and something else I couldn’t quite place.

I scooted closer and wrapped my arms around him. “You weren’t here, and I got scared… I had this horrible nightmare,” I said softly, pressing my cheek to his shoulder.

He stiffened in my embrace but didn’t move away.

I watched his face carefully. ‘He doesn’t look dazed or drugged at all. So he’s faking it? He knows what’s going on. Then why go along with it?’

I contemplated, ‘Does he… Does he actually like me? Besides, back in my last life, he died with me. Voluntarily.’

I couldn’t be sure what he felt now, but I knew one thing—I had to hold onto whatever this was. It might be the only shot I had at surviving.

Leaning in, I brushed my lips against the corner of his mouth.

“Renzo… I want you,” I whispered.

I caught his eyes flickering.

Then he grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. His voice dropped, low and dangerous. “What did you just call me?”

I blinked my round almond-shaped eyes, pretending not to understand. “What? I called you… Renzo?”

His brows drew together.

“Call me babe,” he said.

I froze. “What?”

I could feel my face flush instantly.

He leaned in closer, his teeth grazing my lower lip. “Be good,” he murmured, “Call me babe, and I’ll give you what you want.”

I bit my lip, then lowered my head. Like a good girl, I whispered, “B-Babe.”

In that instant, it was like a match had been struck.

He crushed his mouth against mine, kissing me hard, almost like he was angry. His hand slipped around my waist and yanked me down onto the mattress.

His lips moved fast and rough, trailing heat down my neck as his fingers fumbled with the buttons of my pajamas, popping them open one by one.

His hand slid up along my side, warm and demanding.

He’d just gotten back from Norway, barely around during the day.

We’d only seen each other maybe three times.

I still had no idea why he’d fallen for me in our past life.

But the fact that he took the coffee without any reaction this time?

That alone told me—things were already playing out differently.

‘Unless… he’s been reborn too?’

The thought popped into my head out of nowhere, and before I could fully process it, Rocco had already hit his limit.

His jaw was clenched so tight that I could imagine the veins on his forehead bulging. His eyes were bloodshot, blazing red with desire. But even then, there was still a trace of clarity in his gaze. He was fighting it.

He ground his teeth and looked at me. “Susie, actually… I’m—”

And right then, I knew. He really had been reborn.

‘Perfect. That’ll make my revenge so much easier.’

So I didn’t let him finish. Instead, I slipped my arms around his neck and kissed him first.

Whatever self-control he had left vanished instantly.

He kissed me back, hard—wild, fevered, and utterly dominant.

Again and again and again…

The last round ended in the bathroom, with my back against the wall.

He had one hand under my thighs, holding me up, and I had both arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

But the bastard was teasing me—on purpose—not going in.

I let out a frustrated breath, leaned in, and gave his Adam’s apple a playful but urgent bite.

“Come on already…”

He let out a quiet chuckle, his voice husky as he slid a hand up the back of my head. “Say it again.”

“R-Renzo…”

“Wrong name!”

Just like that, he thrust into me—hard. Like punishment.

“Ah…”

My whole body curled into his as a tremble shot through me.

“Call me babe,” he growled low in my ear, his voice rough and magnetic, like it was pulling me under.

I bit down on the back of my hand and whimpered, “Babe. Babe… Babe…”

The third time I said it, something in him snapped.

He lost control completely.

He moved like a man possessed. My body went soft in his arms, like a fish out of water—lips parted, gasping, barely able to breathe.

By the time I woke up, it was still dark out.

But Rocco… He was already gone.

I slipped on my pajama robe and padded out of the bedroom quietly.

Sure enough, there was light coming from the study.

I leaned against the wall and peeked through the crack of the door.

Rocco was lounging lazily on the couch in the sitting area while Renzo stood across from him, fuming.

“Bro, how the hell could you go into the wrong room?”

He was livid—face flushed, voice shaking.

“Do you have any idea? Susie is the woman I love most in this world!”

Rocco just crossed his legs, lit a cigarette, and gave him a slow sideways glance.

“Really? I had no idea.” He blew out a lazy puff of smoke before adding, “Didn’t you just sneak out of the guest bedroom downstairs? Out of Ciara’s bed?”

Renzo flared up instantly. “That was… That was her! Ciara tempted me!”

Rocco gave a cold laugh. “Too late for excuses. So what do you want now?”

Renzo’s tone shifted immediately. He stole a glance at his brother’s face and changed tactics.

“I mean, it’s just a woman, right? No big deal. If you like her, I don’t mind stepping back for a bit. You can play around with her.”

“But,” he added casually, like he hadn’t just called me a toy, “you know that Project Shoreline—Grandpa gave it to you the moment you came back. I’ve been managing it all this time. I’d really like to keep it.”

Rocco smirked, like he’d been waiting for him to say that.

“Sure,” he said easily. “I’ll talk to Grandpa tomorrow. Tell him you’ll stay in charge of that project.”

He paused, his tone light but sharp. “Just remember—you take full responsibility. Profit or loss, it’s all on you.”

Renzo agreed immediately. He looked like he’d just won the lottery.

As soon as Rocco stood up, I turned around and dashed back to the bedroom. I dove under the covers, shut my eyes, and pretended to be fast asleep.

The next time I woke up, it was already noon.

Still in my camisole, I made my way downstairs.

The moment I reached the corner, I spotted Renzo sitting at the dining table.

My footsteps froze.

I stared hard at the back of his head, unable to look away.

Almost like he could feel it, he turned and looked straight at me.

He frowned, looking a little irritated. “You just woke up? It’s lunchtime already.”

I took a breath, settled my expression, and walked down the stairs slowly, my steps graceful and unhurried.

Once I reached him, I sat down beside him and shot him a playful look, my tone half-teasing, half-accusing.

“Well, whose fault do you think it is? You were so wild last night my body couldn’t handle it!”

His hand froze mid-slice. The knife scraped across the plate with a loud screech, metal against porcelain. It was sharp, grating just like the tension that suddenly filled the room.

I tilted my head, feigning confusion. “Renzo? What’s wrong?”

His gaze dropped immediately to the red marks scattered along my collarbone and chest—obvious signs left behind from last night.

I let my cheeks flush like I was shy about it, but I couldn’t resist smiling just a little. Still, I kept up the act and praised him sweetly.

“You were amazing last night, babe. Seriously, I’ve never felt that satisfied before.”

Right then, I caught his breath hitch—just for a second—and saw his hand curl into a tight fist under the table. His voice came out low and cold, laced with something sharp.

“Never… before?”

Crap. I blinked and quickly clapped my hand over my mouth, as if realizing I’d slipped. But then I leaned toward him with a teasing smile and gave him a playful wink.

“Oops, did I say that out loud? I mean—you’ve always been amazing, of course!”

Renzo stiffened. His face darkened instantly, turning the color of burned toast.

I pretended not to notice and looked at him with wide-eyed admiration. “But last night? Wow. You were especially incredible.”

He stared at me blankly like his brain had suddenly shut down. He didn’t even blink.

So I stood up and stepped behind him, wrapping my arms gently around his shoulders. Leaning in close, I whispered against his ear, my voice soft and full of fake shyness.

“You really don’t know how to hold back, do you?” I let out a little laugh before adding, “The bathroom was one thing, but the windowsill? What if someone saw us? I would’ve died of embarrassment!”

He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenched so hard the muscles were twitching.

A long, tense silence followed before he finally grabbed my wrists and shoved me gently back into my seat.

“Just eat your damn breakfast.”

I smiled sweetly and picked up my knife and fork like a well-behaved little wife.

But I could hear the way his breathing grew more and more uneven, like he was fighting to stay calm.

Then, out of nowhere, he slammed his utensils down, the sharp clatter breaking the silence. He pushed back his chair with a screech and stood up abruptly.

“I’ve got stuff to do. I’m heading out.”

I gave him a bright, understanding smile and nodded. “Okay! Oh—and if you pass by that bakery, bring me back one of those strawberry cupcakes I love!”

His fists clenched at his sides again, and his voice came out low and tight. “Yeah. I know.”

Since it was summer break, I didn’t have to worry about school. After finishing my meal, I brought my laptop into the garden room, nestled among the flowers and warm sunlight.

I spent the afternoon online, looking up a few things and ordering a couple items. By the time I closed my laptop, the sky outside had turned golden-pink with sunset, and the air inside was thick with the scent of blooming flowers.

I stretched lazily and let out a deep sigh. ‘Honestly? Rich people really do know how to enjoy life.’

Right then, a tall shadow fell over me.

Someone leaned in, plucked the frameless glasses off my nose, and held them casually in his fingers.

Startled, I looked up. For a moment, I couldn’t tell if it was Renzo or Rocco.

The two of them looked ridiculously alike.

But after last night’s madness, I’d figured out their differences—tiny details but enough.

Rocco had a birth mark at the outer corner of his eye, like a teardrop, no bigger than a pinhead. It was barely visible unless you were up close. And he had a faded and pale scar across his chest, the kind that looked like it had been there for years.

“Want some?” he asked casually, holding up a small box with strawberry cupcakes inside.

That snapped me out of it immediately.

Grinning, I jumped up and wrapped my arms around his, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Thank you, Renzo!”

Without missing a beat, I opened the box, scooped up some of the strawberry jam with my finger, and held it up to his lips.

“Here, try it. It’s really good!”

His eyes flickered, and I saw his throat move as he swallowed. Then, without a word, he opened his mouth and took my whole fingertip in, his lips warm and soft around it.

And just then…

“What the hell are you two doing?!” a furious voice exploded from the door.

Renzo was back.

And my finger—still in Rocco’s mouth.