Everyone said it.

The best twisted roleplay game in all of Riverton was run out of the Delgado mansion.

All because Victor Delgado, the family's second son, had a rather unique way of blowing off steam: acting out elaborate scripts with a rotating cast of women.

A few days ago, it had been a rich young playboy rescuing a down-on-her-luck nightclub girl.

Before that, the brooding genius and the sweet, impoverished wallflower in a tale of mutual salvation.

Now Victor had a new obsession.

He'd developed a taste for the taboo.

He'd actually made his kept woman play the role of "little stepmother."

And me, his fiancée? I was expected to treat her like she was truly my mother-in-law.

"When you serve her tea, you kneel properly. When you greet her, your face shows respect. Whatever she says, you listen."

Everyone assumed I'd tear into him the way I always had, calling him out for being a degenerate waste of space.

But this time?

I just lowered my head and answered, softly, "Alright."

Victor had been riding that high for days, convinced he'd finally broken me.

What he didn't know was that his eldest brother, the one who'd been overseas for years, the one he'd never even met, was coming home next month.

And everyone in the Delgado household already understood, without a word needing to be spoken:

Victor was unfit. He didn't deserve to marry me.

The day the Delgado heir walked through that door, I would become his sister-in-law no longer. I'd be his wife.

……

"Lorraine Winfield, if you'd just behaved from the start, I might've been generous enough to let you play a lead role."

The man in front of me sat with one leg crossed over the other, basking in his supposed victory over me.

I couldn't help the mocking curve that tugged at the corner of my lips. The sarcastic retort made it all the way to the tip of my tongue before I swallowed it back down.

Laurel Delgado had been right.

Victor was erratic, unpredictable. He never played by the rules.

Now wasn't the time to show my hand.

"When I said 'alright,' I meant you're free to play whatever games you want with Fern James. I never said I'd join your little game of house."

I turned on my heel to leave.

Behind me, the man snapped his fingers.

Two hulking bodyguards in black materialized in front of me, blocking my path without a word.

"The game's started. I haven't said it's over. Nobody leaves."

Victor exhaled a lazy plume of smoke, watching me through the haze, his eyes glinting with the kind of amusement a person reserved for something beneath them.

"Now go wake Fern up and help her get dressed."

I looked up at him, my face utterly blank.

"Why should I."

That expression set him off again.

The smile drained from Victor's face. He closed the distance between us in three strides and seized my chin, his grip vicious enough to bruise.

"You know what I hate most? That look on your face."

"You're nothing but an orphan living under the Delgado roof, and yet you always look at me, the Delgado heir, like I'm something stuck to the bottom of your shoe. Lorraine, you really don't know your place."

I let out a cold scoff but said nothing.

One expression. That was all it took to shatter his composure.

If this was how he reacted now, imagine the day he found out the truth.

That I might be an orphan, but I was an orphan sitting on an inheritance worth over ten billion dollars.

And that he was no longer the Delgado heir.

The look on his face then would be far more entertaining.

"Maybe if you stopped doing things worth looking down on, I wouldn't have to look at you this way."

Victor's breathing grew heavier.

He grabbed my wrist instead, squeezing with enough force to grind bone, and dragged me toward the stairs without another word.

"Mom and Dad are out of the country. Nobody's here to protect you now."

"This little script of mine? It's designed to grind you down. Lorraine, by the time I'm done, you'll be on your hands and knees begging me like a dog."

Upstairs in the master bedroom, Fern James was already awake.

She slid barefoot out of bed and scampered across the room, throwing herself into Victor's arms.

"Victor, I didn't see you when I woke up. I missed you so much."

Victor ruffled the top of her hair and leaned down to press a kiss against it.

But even as he did, his gaze stayed fixed on me from the corner of his eye.

When he saw that my expression remained perfectly indifferent, he finally couldn't hold back. His words carried a pointed edge.

"I just love how sweet and attentive Fern is. Unlike some people, who walk around with a permanent scowl, like the whole world owes them a fortune."

With that, he scooped Fern up in his arms and set her back on the bed.

Then he lifted his chin and jerked it in my direction.

"Come here. Put Fern's shoes on for her."

I didn't move.

The two of them sat side by side on the edge of the bed. One wore a smug grin. The other was waiting for a show.

I lowered my eyes as a sudden, sharp sting lanced through my chest.

He'd always been reckless. He went through women like he went through clothes, and no scenario was too outrageous for him to act out.

But he had never humiliated me like this.

That was why, time after time, I'd been furious at his wasted potential yet couldn't help indulging him anyway.

Now, he wanted to grind my face beneath his mistress's feet.

I looked up at him.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Victor, if you actually force me to go through with this, there will be no coming back for us. Not ever."

Something flickered in those eyes that were always so carelessly defiant. A flash of bewilderment.

It was as if he were thinking:

This isn't how it's supposed to go.

I was supposed to charge at him with tears in my eyes, screaming that he was shameless, that he was a bastard.

Then slap him and Fern across the face.

Not stand here like this, calm as still water.

"I—"

He barely got the word out before Fern's silky voice cut in.

"Victor, you're not going soft again, are you? Have you already forgotten what she did to you?"

The confusion in his eyes faded, replaced by that familiar, mocking indifference.

"Get over here. Don't make me say it a third time."

I still didn't move.

My mind kept circling back. What exactly had I done to him that made him so determined to drag me into this twisted game?

Maybe it was the last time he'd pulled one of his rescue-the-damsel stunts. I'd slapped him across the face in front of his whole entourage without a second thought, humiliating him completely.

Or maybe it went further back than that. A deal he'd thrown everything at and still couldn't close, one I'd wrapped up without breaking a sweat.

Or maybe further still. Back in school, when he'd burned the midnight oil until his eyes were bloodshot, only to find my name sitting above his on every final exam ranking.

Embarrassment after embarrassment. Comparison after comparison.

Slowly wearing away every last thread of the bond we'd shared since childhood.

A haze settled over my thoughts.

I remembered a time even earlier, when I was only ten. I'd slipped and fallen into the pool at the Delgado estate.

He was the first one to jump in. He'd nearly killed himself hauling me to the surface.

He'd swallowed so much water that day he passed out. And when he came to, the first words out of his mouth were:

"Is Lorraine okay?"

Now, everything had changed. The place was the same, but the people were strangers.

Thinking of that old debt, the life he'd saved, I walked forward and bent down to pick up the slippers by the bed.

The instant my fingertips touched the edge of the shoe, a rush of air swept past my ear.

Victor kicked my hand away. The force sent me stumbling backward, and I hit the floor hard.

My wrist cracked against the bed frame. I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth.

"Lorraine, you're pathetic!"

He towered over me, chest heaving, glaring down with something churning in his eyes that I couldn't read.

"I told you to do it and you just did it? Since when are you this obedient?"

I braced a hand against the floor and pushed myself to my feet, rubbing my wrist with my eyes cast down.

I had no idea what had set him off this time.

He was the one who'd forced me to do it. I'd done it. And now he was the one who was angry.

Victor ground his teeth, each word forced out like it physically pained him.

"Get out. I don't want to look at you."

Fine by me.

I didn't spare him another glance and turned to leave.

Just before bed, the butler knocked on my door.

Eugene Lambert stood there holding a tube of ointment in both hands, saying he'd noticed my wrist was injured and had come to deliver it personally.

I took it and set it on the nightstand without a second thought.

Victor's temper had grown increasingly erratic over the years. None of the staff dared do anything on their own initiative in front of him.

Who had sent this ointment was obvious without asking.

But I didn't dare use it.

The last time he'd sent me eye drops, he'd laced them with hot pepper oil.

My eyes had swollen nearly shut for days. He'd sat there the whole time with his arms around his latest fling, laughing like it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen.

Eugene lingered at the door, clearly wanting to say something but hesitating.

"Just say what's on your mind, Eugene."

He sighed.

"Miss Winfield, the truth is, Mr. Delgado does care about you. It's just..."

"He's never known how to express himself, not since he was a boy. The more someone matters to him, the less he knows how to treat them right."

I didn't respond. I waved him out.

My gaze dropped to the tube of ointment. I stared at it for a long time without moving.

Victor loved me?

Maybe.

But his love was thin and twisted.

It meant breaking my wings, turning me into a vine that could only survive by clinging to him, all so he could dole out the barest scraps of affection in return.

Love like that wasn't worth having.

The next morning, Victor was already sitting in the dining room when I came downstairs.

His eyes caught the red marks still visible on my wrist, and his expression darkened instantly.

"Lorraine, I don't think you're hurting enough."

He stood, seized my wrist, and examined it closely, his grip so tight it layered fresh pain over the old.

"Since it doesn't hurt enough, go make Fern her breakfast."

"She's picky. I want both American and continental, and I don't want a single thing missing."

I said nothing. I turned and walked into the kitchen, lighting the stove with practiced ease.

My cooking was decent, actually.

Victor used to skip breakfast entirely. I'd make it myself and bring it to his office, standing over him until he finished every bite.

Behind me, a searing gaze pinned itself to my back.

I didn't turn around.

The stare didn't vanish until footsteps came pattering down the stairs.

"Why'd you come down without your shoes again?"

His voice dripped with indulgence.

"I woke up and you weren't there. I got worried and came looking for you."

That kind of clingy, helpless talk was exactly what Victor ate up.

He scooped her into his arms and carried her back to the couch in the dining room.

"Lorraine, hurry it up. Don't let Fern go hungry."

I didn't answer. I brought the finished breakfast out and set it in front of Fern.

Then I headed for the door.

I'd barely taken two steps when Fern's soft little voice floated up behind me.

Victor didn't even think. He raised his voice immediately.

"Someone stop her."

Two bodyguards in black stepped in front of me again.

He lounged on the couch, tilting his chin up to look at me with lazy contempt.

"Fern's given you an order. Why aren't you doing what she says?"

I glanced down at my watch.

Eight forty. The meeting was at nine thirty.

"I'm going to be late for work. I really don't have time for this nonsense."

The word nonsense hit a nerve with surgical precision.

Victor's face went cold. His voice dropped to ice.

"Judy Lambert. Go bring me a cup of freshly brewed tea. Bring it yourself."

Judy's face went white, but she didn't dare refuse.

She returned moments later with a cup of tea, steam still curling thick from the surface.

Victor's eyes locked onto mine. His words came slow and deliberate.

"Lorraine, you're going to take this tea and serve it. Willingly or not, you're going to serve it. And if you refuse, then Judy holds it until you do."