Chapter 5

I stop dead in my tracks, whipping around to stare at her. My eyes drop to her stomach, and for the first time, I notice the slight bulge beneath her loose, baggy gown. She beams, rubbing her stomach with a shy smile, and the realization hits me like a brick.

“Wait.” My voice is sharp, incredulous. “How did you sneak in here with ‘that’… no, wait, who the fuck got you pregnant? Jerry? Kenzie? Old Man Dicktard?”

Lyla rolls her eyes, exasperated. “I’ve told you to stop calling him that! And no, it’s Clayton.” Her fingers twist a lock of her glossy black hair around her index finger, her cheeks flushing as she says his name.

“And Caleb,” Ivanna chirps, her voice bright and teasing as she strides past me into my room.

I stand there, frozen, staring at Lyla with a mix of bewilderment, amusement, and sheer mortification. Clayton and Caleb. The infamous twins. One a renowned fashion designer, the other the owner of an entertainment empire. Both famous for their devotion to each other—and their shared love for women.

“They’re both…?” I can’t even finish the sentence.

Lyla’s shy blush deepens, and Ivanna’s laughter echoes from inside my room. I shake my head, torn between wanting to laugh and feeling completely overwhelmed.

The last time I checked, Lyla swore up and down she’d never get involved with the twins. She couldn’t stand their strange insistence that she belonged to both of them, their bizarre lack of jealousy toward one another, their unwavering belief that they shared everything—even her. But now, standing here with her glowing complexion and a shy, almost embarrassed smile, I realize just how much I’ve missed in these years of absence.

I stare at her for a moment longer, my mind racing with bafflement, before I turn and continue into my bedroom. Of course, Ivanna is already sprawled across my bed like she owns the place, her auburn hair a wild halo against the pillows. My eyes sweep over the messy state of the room—my unmade bed, clothes haphazardly tossed on the floor, and a thin layer of dust clinging to the surfaces. Everything feels off, disorganized, chaotic, much like my life right now.

“So, you’re married?” I ask, my voice flat as I perch on the edge of the bed beside Ivanna.

Lyla fidgets awkwardly by the door, rubbing her arm as though trying to soothe herself. “To both of them, yes.”

I scoff, leaning back slightly and crossing my arms. “How is that even possible?”

“They’re my mates.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, but the words hit me like a jolt. I lean forward, narrowing my eyes at her. “I can’t choose one over the other,” she adds, her gaze dropping to the floor, avoiding mine.

Something about her words unsettles me. I can’t quite place it, but the way she says mates feels strange, like there’s a deeper meaning I’m not catching. My stomach twists, a heavy sense of unease creeping over me as I glance between her and the others.

I take a slow breath, trying to steady the spiral of questions forming in my mind. There’s something off about them—not just Lyla, but Zalie and Ivanna too. It’s subtle, but it’s there, like an undercurrent I can’t ignore. I’ve always known they were odd, but this… this feels different.

It’s like I can sense something in them, something that shouldn’t be there. An essence, an energy, something other. And now, with Lyla standing there, nervous and pale but undeniably tied to them, she feels the same. Not as strong, but close enough.

I open my mouth, ready to press for answers, but Ivanna cuts me off with her usual bluntness. “Elliott told us the last person you visited was Rowan Draven.” Her voice is calm, but her words strike a nerve. My lips press into a thin line as I glance over my shoulder at her, my brows furrowing.

“And shortly after,” she continues, her sharp eyes glinting with something unreadable, “you became like this.”

“So?” I snap, my voice defensive, my body tensing. My heart starts to race, my pulse thundering in my ears.

“So,” Zalie speaks up, her tone uncharacteristically serious, pulling my attention toward her. She’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, her ocean-blue eyes locked on mine. Her expression is calm but weighted, like she’s measuring every word. “You figured out that the man you met isn’t Rowan, didn’t you?”

My heart stops.

A gasp escapes my lips as her words sink in, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. My throat goes dry, my chest tightening painfully as my mind scrambles to process what she’s said.

They know.

I should feel relieved, even grateful, that they’ve pieced it together. But instead, a strange, inexplicable pull in my chest urges me to stop them, to protect the man who isn’t Rowan. My heart twists, and without thinking, I hear myself begin to speak. “He’s…”

I catch myself just in time, my voice faltering as I bite down on the words. My hands curl into fists, my nails digging into my palms hard enough to sting.

Zalie’s lips curl into a small, knowing smile. “Then do you know who that man is?” she asks softly, her gaze steady and unyielding. “Do you know that the man in Rowan’s place right now is his prodigal twin brother… and your first love, Kassian?”

Her words hit me like a wrecking ball, shattering the fragile hold I have on my emotions. The air feels thick and suffocating, my ears ringing as if the entire world has been turned on its axis.

It’s like the ground beneath me has vanished, leaving me suspended in a freefall of disbelief and utter mortification. My lips part, but no sound comes out, my thoughts spinning too fast to form coherent words. My heart pounds erratically, the once-familiar name dredging up memories I’ve worked so hard to bury.

The room feels too small, too warm, the faint scent of dust and perfume mingling in the air around me. My vision blurs as I stare at Zalie, her words echoing in my mind over and over again. Kassian. My first love.

The man I thought I’d never see until I die. The man who didn’t know somebody like me existed.