Luke's POV

My fiancée's so-called sworn brother, Oliver Gibson, pulled out a document at the engagement party.

"Luke," Oliver said, sliding it across the table to me. "Shannon promised me years ago. She said she'd give me a child."

He tapped the paper like it was a done deal and continued, "Sign the contract. Or else, forget about marrying her."

I didn't touch it.

Instead, I turned to my fiancée. "You really promised him something like this?"

My fiancée, Shannon Hoffman, waved it off like it was nothing. "It was just a childhood joke. Oliver was drunk."

"Don't take it so seriously," she added, her voice calm but careless. "Just sign it and get it over with so he doesn't cause more trouble."

That indifferent look on her face, like this was beneath her, made me laugh under my breath.

So that's what this is.

There was no reason to hold on to this relationship any longer.

——

I picked up the agreement and tore it clean through, shredding the pages into pieces and letting them scatter across the polished floor.

Oliver's expression turned dark in an instant.

He shot to his feet, his chair screeching loudly against the tiles. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Luke?!"

I didn't even glance at him. My eyes stayed locked on Shannon.

Her brows had already knit together, and that familiar look was back—the one I'd seen too many times. Annoyed, scolding, like a parent tired of breaking up squabbles between two stubborn kids.

And every time, she expected me to be the one who caved.

"Oliver's drunk. You know how he gets," she said, her voice sharper now. "He's just messing around. Do you really have to take it this seriously? Just sign the damn paper and humor him a little."

Humor him.

I stared at her face, flushed with anger, and it pulled me straight back to the start of our relationship.

That same expression.

The first time I told her I thought Oliver seemed too attached to her, she snapped at me.

"Luke, he's my sworn brother. We grew up together. He's just a kid at heart. Why are you getting jealous over nothing?"

So I backed down for five long years.

Oliver took full advantage.

He once 'accidentally' lost an important contract of mine. Another time, he spilled coffee all over my laptop, which was loaded with critical files. He even thought switching my herbal tea for laxatives would be hilarious.

Every single time, Shannon defended him. "He didn't mean it. Don't be so petty."

And then, three months ago, he crossed the line.

Oliver tampered with the brake pads on my car.

I nearly died on the highway that night. The car was totaled. My right leg was fractured, and I spent two straight months flat on my back in a hospital bed.

The doctor said I was lucky. That I had brushed right up against death and somehow walked away. He told me I had been a hair's breadth from being crippled for life.

I can still see Shannon crying at my bedside that night, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe, promising she would scold Oliver until he understood.

But the next day, she came back calmer, carrying a thermos of soup.

Her tone had already softened as she told me, "Oliver cried all night. He knows he messed up. He didn't mean any harm. He just got carried away and didn't realize it would turn out so bad. Please, don't go to the police. Just let it go, okay?"

I looked at her tear-stained eyes that day and said nothing.

And in the end, I let it go.

And now, here he was, at our engagement party of all places, waving around some absurd 'surrogacy contract' and demanding I sign it like he had every right.

I had reached my limit.

"Shannon," I said, forcing down the fury boiling in my chest, "say that again. What do you want me to do?"

She seemed taken aback by my tone, but she shot to her feet and snapped right back at me.

"I just want you to sign the paper so Oliver will stop making a scene!"

Furious, she continued, "Luke, what the hell is wrong with you today? You're not usually like this. Oliver was just joking. Can't you play along? Do you really have to ruin the mood, embarrass everyone here, and make a spectacle out of this in front of the guests?"

Off to the side, Oliver let out a snort.

He tilted his chin slightly, his eyes shining with smug defiance.

Luke's POV

Oliver was sure I would give in, just like I had before.

He was so confident, in fact, that he poured himself a drink with ease, swirling the wine in his glass as if he were waiting for me to bow my head.

But instead, I rose slowly to my feet and straightened my suit jacket.

Then I looked Oliver square in the eye. "You are not welcome here. Are you going to walk out alone, or do you want me to have security escort you?"

The event hall fell utterly silent.

Every guest turned to watch, their eyes flicking nervously back and forth between the three of us.

Oliver's smug grin froze where it was. He had clearly never imagined I would humiliate him like this in front of everyone. Color drained from his face, then came back hot and red. His grip tightened around the wine glass until his knuckles went white.

"Luke!" Oliver yelled.

Before I could reply, Shannon grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin.

"Everyone is watching. What the hell are you doing?" she hissed. "Apologize to Oliver now!"

Her eyes burned with anger and disappointment, flaring with outrage as if I had crossed an unforgivable line, making me seem unreasonable and as if I was the one who ruined our engagement party.

Behind her, Oliver tilted his head. His face shifted into a perfect display of wounded pride and righteous hurt.

He even rubbed at his eyes, as if he had just endured some great injustice.

At that moment, I experienced exhaustion rooted in my bones.

Five years of compromise, forgiveness, and telling myself to let it go, that he was just a spoiled kid.

All of it rushed back now, sharp and impossible to ignore.

And it felt utterly ridiculous.

Slowly, I pried Shannon's hand off my arm.

She froze, staring at me as if she could not believe I would push her away.

"Shannon, do you remember?" I asked, meeting her eyes.

My voice was steady and deliberate as I continued, "Three months ago, I was lying in a hospital bed. The doctor said there was a chance I would lose my leg. That night, you told me Oliver was scared. That he knew he was wrong."

Her pupils tightened. She looked thrown, like she could not understand why I was bringing this up now.

"Do you know," I went on, my voice low but loud enough for the nearby tables to catch, "what went through my head in that moment?"

She parted her lips, but nothing came out.

So I answered for her. "I thought, if I really ended up disabled, would you still excuse him as being immature? Would it still just be another one of his childish mistakes?"

I let the silence hang.

My eyes drifted over Oliver's face, watching the color drain, then settled back on hers.

"Well," I said at last, my tone quiet but cutting, "now I know the answer."

Shannon's expression went rigid.

Then, in a single breath, Oliver changed faces like an actor shifting masks.

Suddenly, he was filled with remorse.

He stumbled forward a half step, his voice catching in a perfectly timed choke. "Luke, this is all my fault."

He raised his sleeve and wiped at tears that were not even there.

"I'm a bastard. I'm trash. All those things I did before, I was just being a dumb kid, acting out."

Even as he spoke, Oliver's eyes flicked to Shannon, assessing her response. He pressed further when he saw her brows furrow and worry cross her face.

"I shouldn't have joked like that, not like this. And I definitely should not have done those awful things to you before. I was wrong. I really was."

His voice climbed, dramatic and loud, pulling every guest's focus.

"But Shannon is innocent. She did not know anything. If you are angry, be angry with me. Do not take it out on her. This is all on me!"

I watched his little performance in silence, cold and still as stone.

I had seen this show too many times before.

Each time, it worked.

He knew precisely how to find the softest part of Shannon's heart and twist it.

And then I would be the one who had to back down.

Luke's POV

I kept my eyes fixed on Oliver, giving him nothing but a blank stare.

For a brief moment, a flash of menace appeared in his eyes. Then, before anyone could react, he quickly raised his hand and slapped himself across the face.

The crack echoed through the event hall, sharp and loud enough to make people flinch.

He didn't hold back. One hit followed another, each one harder than the last.

In seconds, his cheek had gone red and swollen.

A thin line of blood smeared the corner of his mouth.

"Oliver!"

Shannon's voice cracked as she lunged toward him. She clutched his wrist with both hands, panic and tears spilling out of her.

"What are you doing? Stop it! Please, don't do this!"

Oliver thrashed against her hold, wild-eyed, like a man convinced pain was the only way left to make things right.

Tears and snot streaked his face as he choked out, "Shannon, let me go! I'm poison. I don't deserve to live! I embarrassed Luke. I ruined your engagement party. I'm not even human. I should die!"

Then, he pounded his chest with his free hand, as if hitting himself could erase what he had done. Shannon clung tightly to his arm, crying so hard that her tears wouldn't stop.

Then Shannon spun toward me, her eyes blazing—the same eyes that once drew me in, now filled with anger.

"Luke, are you happy now?" Her voice cracked, trembling with emotion. "What more do you want? Will you only be satisfied when he's dead? He's still just a kid. He knows he was wrong. What more do you want from him?"

She looked at me as if I were the villain in all of this—cold, heartless, torturing some innocent soul.

That look burned away the last bit of warmth I had left for her.

A kid?

A 'kid' who tampered with my brakes and almost killed me on the highway.

A 'kid' who held up a ridiculous surrogacy contract at my own engagement party.

A 'kid' who was now deliberately hurting himself to corner me.

And Shannon still called him a kid?

Oliver sagged in her arms as if all his strength had vanished, his voice cracking into ragged gasps. "Don't blame Luke, Shannon. I brought this to myself. It's all my fault. Don't blame him…"

The more Oliver played the martyr, the more pity clouded Shannon's eyes, and the sharper her anger turned on me. She clung to him protectively, shielding him like a mother guarding her child, and glared at me as if I were the true villain in the room.

"Look at him! Just look at what you've driven him to!" she hissed. "Luke, I never thought you could be so cold-blooded. I was wrong about you!"

Her chest heaved with each word as she said that, her fury shaking the air between us.

Then, in a flash, she raised her hand.

Before anyone could stop her, and the guests even had time to react, her palm came across my face.

Another slap.

It landed hard, and a hot sting bloomed across my cheek.

The event hall went dead silent.

Everyone stood frozen, stunned by what had just happened.

Shannon's hand lingered in the air for a heartbeat, as if even she couldn't quite believe what she had just done. But the shock didn't last. Her fury came roaring back, sharpened by that fierce instinct to protect.

She pointed at my face, her voice cold, final, and heavy with the kind of threat she expected me to take seriously.

"Luke, apologize to Oliver right now. This very second. Or… our engagement is over." Shannon's voice cut like venom as she forced the rest out.

Her eyes locked on mine, blazing with fury and threat. But beneath the anger, I caught the flicker of panic and the faint spark of hope. She was betting I'd cave like always, throw away my pride for peace, smooth it over, forgive Oliver, and let them walk away victorious.

And so, the moment the words left Shannon's mouth, Oliver leaned into her shoulder. And right then, hidden from her view, his lips curled into the faintest, most smug, self-satisfied smirk.