Chapter 3
Elena stood by the hotel bed, wrapped in the sheet, staring at Sebastian like he was a ghost she never meant to meet.
She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.
She had slept with her husband’s brother.
The realization was a slow, cold flood filling her chest, drowning everything in shock.
“You’re sick,” she whispered, backing away from him. “You let that happen. You knew who I was.”
Sebastian shrugged, buttoning his cuff without even looking at her. “You walked into the bar. You sat next to me. You asked for a night away from your pain. I just gave it to you.”
“I didn’t know who you were!”
“But you didn’t ask, either,” he said, calm as stone.
Elena wanted to scream. She wanted to hit something, anything, maybe even him—but mostly, she wanted to wake up from this twisted dream.
“I’m married,” she said, more to herself than to him. “I mean—I was married. Andrew… he—he cheated on me. With my best friend.”
Her voice cracked at the end, like a dam breaking.
Sebastian’s face finally changed. His expression darkened, not with pity—but something else. Something colder.
“I know,” he said quietly.
She blinked. “You… you knew?”
He nodded once. “I’ve known for a while. I just didn’t think you did.”
Elena sank onto the edge of the bed, stunned.
Her world had already crumbled—but now it was like someone had picked up the broken pieces and thrown them into a storm.
“Why?” she whispered. “Why would you keep that from me?”
“Because I wanted to see how far Andrew would go,” Sebastian said. “And he didn’t disappoint.”
There was something so emotionless about his voice, like he wasn’t just a man—he was a shadow of something darker.
Elena looked at him again, really looked.
He was older than Andrew—taller, more serious, more composed—but there was something dangerous in his calm. Like he wasn’t afraid of burning bridges because he’d already set them on fire long ago.
“So this… this was your revenge?” she asked bitterly. “Sleeping with me to get back at your brother?”
Sebastian walked over, knelt in front of her, and looked her straight in the eye. “You think you’re the only one who got used? You think I planned this whole thing just for a cheap thrill? No, Elena. This wasn’t about revenge.”
“Then what was it?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he stood and picked up his coat.
“Elena, I won’t ask for forgiveness. And I’m not going to apologize for what happened last night. But I will tell you one thing—Andrew doesn’t deserve you.”
She scoffed. “That’s easy to say when you’ve already had your fun.”
But he didn’t flinch.
“I didn’t touch you for fun,” he said. “I touched you because you looked like a woman who was finally done being broken. And I wanted to see what that woman would look like when she realized her power.”
She stared at him, breath caught in her throat.
And then—he left.
Just like that.
No goodbye. No number. No promise. Just gone.
Elena sat there in silence, the sheet clutched to her chest, her mind spinning.
Had she just destroyed what was left of her life?
Or had she finally taken the first step toward reclaiming it?
The sun rose slowly outside, and the city buzzed with life.
Inside, Elena stood and walked to the mirror. Her hair was a mess. Her mascara was smudged. Her eyes were tired and glassy.
But for the first time in a long time… she didn’t look like a victim.
She looked like a woman on the edge of something new.
And maybe—just maybe—she was ready to jump.