“Take your wife home already! Maybe tonight you'll make a little love child.”

“Ha! Beatrice and I actually picked out baby names a long time ago.”

“If it's a boy, we'll call him Sterling, precious and undeniable, like fine jade. And if it's a girl, Helen, because she'll be just as stunning as her mother.”

I froze. Slowly, I lifted my head and stared at Beatrice.

Those two names. We had chosen them together on a full-moon night, whispering wishes under the moonlight for the children we'd have someday.

A boy named Sterling. A girl named Helen.

How did she always manage to hit me exactly where it would hurt the most?

I stood up. My legs barely held me as I staggered toward the door.

“Hey! Cousin, where are you going??”

“CRASH!”

The wine rack beside me toppled as I clipped it, bottles shattering across the floor in a mess of glass and liquid.

I could almost see them all laughing at me. Calling me pathetic. Mocking me for being too broke, too worthless to keep my own girlfriend from being stolen by Jude.

That night, I fled the hotel covered in shame.

Back at my apartment, I didn't turn on the lights. I leaned against the door and slid down until I was sitting on the cold floor.

My phone buzzed. A message from Beatrice.

“Rhys, I'm sorry!”

“Everything happened so fast. Jude and I are childhood sweethearts. His mother has terminal stomach cancer, and her dying wish was to see him get married.”

“So Jude and I held a ceremony. Just for show. We never signed any legal papers.”

“My dad also said that if I married Jude, he'd hand over control of the company to me.”

“Just hold on a little longer. Things are about to get better for us.”

Zachary Harding had always looked down on me. He was firmly against my relationship with Beatrice.

That was why we'd never gone public. She'd never once brought me home to meet her family.

But what Beatrice didn't know was that "hold on a little longer" and "things are about to get better" were supposed to be my lines.

My thumb scrolled past her page and landed on my father's profile.

I sent him a few messages, then powered off my phone. After a shower, I turned it back on and found missed calls from Beatrice.

One after another after another. She sounded desperate.

I finally picked up. Her voice poured through, frantic and breathless.

“Rhys, you need to hide all my things right now! Jude says he wants to bring me over to stay at your place tonight.”

“You left in such bad shape earlier, he's worried something happened to you.”

“Hurry! He's already on his way down.”

The call cut off right there.

I looked around the apartment, then closed my eyes with a smile so bleak it ached.

They arrived fast. The moment I opened the door, Beatrice's face was tight with panic.

She was terrified I hadn't hidden her things. That our relationship would be exposed.

“Cousin, is everything okay? Did something happen?”

“You bolted out of there so fast tonight. Something's definitely wrong.”

Beatrice's eyes darted around the apartment. When she saw that every trace of her had been put away, the tension drained from her shoulders.

“It's nothing. Just had too much to drink and made a fool of myself.”

It took me a long time to answer Jude's question.

“Oh, is that all? Well, ease up on the booze next time.”

“Right, right. Well, if that's the case, let's just head back!”

Beatrice grabbed Jude's hand, already pulling him toward the door.

“What? Leave? Why would we leave?”

“We're staying at your place tonight, Cousin.”

Beatrice went rigid. Every drop of color drained from her face.

Jude strolled into the spare room like he owned the place：“Don't mind me, Cousin. We're family, right?”

“Beatrice, get ready for bed. It's getting late.”

I clenched my fists, unable to find a single word.

I couldn't ask them to leave. I couldn't ask them to stay.

What they'd do once they settled in for the night, I didn't need to guess.

We made small talk for a few minutes, then headed to our rooms.

I'd barely lain down when Jude knocked on my door.

“Hey, cuz, do you……do you have any, you know?”

“I forgot to bring some, and you know tonight's my wedding night. Can't leave your cousin hanging.”

I froze. Behind him stood Beatrice, white as a sheet.

“Jude, I'm a single guy. Why would I have any of that?”

“Oh! Right, I forgot. Well, if you don't, then we'll get out of your hair.”

“Per Mom's plan, we're getting started on the baby-making.”

Beatrice managed a strained smile and nodded. Jude scooped her up in his arms.

“Come on, wifey! Time to make some babies!”

That night, they were right next door, and every sound cut straight through the wall into my ears.

The next morning, after breakfast, Jude got an important call.

He looked at me with a mix of contempt and smug pride：“Cuz, some friends of mine from Northcrest are coming into town. Let me show you what the world of real money looks like.”

“You've spent your whole life stuck in a hotel pushing papers. You've never had a chance to rub shoulders with the elite. Tonight, I'm taking you to a gala.”

The hours slipped by fast. By the time the sky went dark, Jude had all but dragged me to a high-society cocktail party.

The moment we arrived, his friends took one look at me and snickered.

“So this is the cousin! Better watch yourself in here, buddy.”

“Everyone at this party could eat you alive.”

Zachary Harding was there too, pinning me with a stare that was equal parts warning and mockery. Then someone walked in, and a ripple of excitement swept through the room：“Mr. Stephens is here.”

A man appeared at the entrance, sharp and commanding, carrying himself with the effortless authority of someone who owned every room he walked into. Jude practically tripped over himself rushing to greet him.

“Mr. Stephens! Welcome!”

“This is my wife, Beatrice Harding.”

The instant Beatrice saw Byron Stephens, her pupils contracted and the color drained from her face.

“Aren't you Rhys's girlfriend? I just saw you with him a few days ago. When did you become Jude's wife?”

Byron looked across the room at me：“Rhys, how'd your girlfriend end up somebody else's wife?”