17: HARRY

The event had been exhausting. The endless small talk, the fake smiles, and the way Ethan’s eyes followed me all night—I felt like a bird in a gilded cage. By the time the everything ended, all I wanted was to disappear into the quiet sanctuary of my room.

I lingered near the grand staircase of the pottery studio, pretending to be engrossed in my phone as people around me trickled out. I could feel Ethan’s gaze on me even before I looked up. When I finally did, there he was, cutting through the crowd like he owned the world. His suit was stained with clay from the exercise and he wiped the spot profusely as he walked towards me.

“Ms Taylor,” he said as he approached, his voice lower than usual, as if he were trying not to startle me.

I froze, gripping my purse tighter. “Mr King”

“You're going home with me” he said, his tone soft but firm.

The words hung between us like a challenge and the bystanders who had heard what he said gasped and stared daggers at me. My instinct screamed at me to refuse, but the weight of his stare was too much to bear. I wanted to tell him no, to remind him that we were in public and he didn't have to be nice to me, but instead, I hesitated.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said finally, my voice betraying the conflict inside me.

His jaw tightened, and for a brief moment, I thought he might argue. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming in the cool night air that seeped through the open lobby doors. “It’s late, Mrs King,” he said, his tone dropping an octave. “I just want to make sure my wife gets home safe. Please.”

That name, Mrs King felt foreign. It stirred something in me that I didn’t want to feel. Against every logical thought in my head, I nodded. “Fine. But just this once.”

We walked out together, his hand hovering near the small of my back. I hated how natural it felt, as though no time had passed since the days when he’d walk beside me like this, the world at our feet.

When the valet pulled up in his sleek black car, Ethan opened the passenger door for me. I hesitated for a moment, a silent war raging inside me. As I stepped toward the car, the sharp sound of heels clicking against the pavement made me pause.

“Ethan!” Samantha’s voice rang out, shrill and commanding.

I turned, and there she was, her blonde hair glinting under the streetlights like a crown. Her red dress hugged her figure a little too tightly, and her heels were impossibly high. Her smile was sharp, and her eyes locked onto me with a venom I could feel in my bones.

“What’s this?” she asked, her tone sickly sweet as she sauntered up to us.

“Not now, Samantha,” Ethan said curtly, stepping in front of me slightly.

But Samantha wasn’t one to be deterred. “Oh, I think now’s the perfect time,” she said, her smile widening as she grabbed my arm. “Come on, Maddie, let’s not cause a scene. Get out of my fiancé's car.”

I blinked at her, stunned. “Excuse me?”

Before I could say another word, she dragged me out of the car with a force I didn’t expect. My heels scraped against the pavement as I stumbled, and my cheeks burned with embarrassment as a few bystanders turned to look.

“Samantha, stop!” Ethan barked, but she ignored him, spinning to face him with a mock-innocent expression.

“I’ll ride with you, Ethan,” she said, her voice dripping with false charm. “And maybe I could ride you later.”

"No" he barked and she flinched.

"I'll just call mother inlaw and let her know you're still letting this street rat in seduce you" she said, batting her lashes as she spoke.

What a literal banshee? How did she manage to appear so innocent and blameless even though she literally had no soul?

I could see the frustration in Ethan’s eyes, but he let out a long breath and stepped back. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth.

I stared at him, stunned. “Seriously?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He turned to me, regret flickering across his face. “Maddie, I’ll call you a cab—”

“Don’t bother,” I snapped, shaking my head. “I’ll figure it out.”

Samantha smirked as her friends piled into the car, taking up every available seat. I stood on the curb, the humiliation clawing at me as the sleek black car disappeared down the street.

Just as I reached into my purse to call for a taxi, a low, throaty growl of an engine caught my attention. I looked up, and a black Mustang pulled up beside me, the headlights casting an eerie glow on the pavement.

The car was immaculate, its body a glossy black that seemed to absorb the light. But it wasn’t the car that held my attention—it was the driver.

He stepped out, unfolding himself from the car with a grace that felt almost inhuman. He was tall, with jet-black hair that curled slightly at the ends, as though it couldn’t decide whether to be unruly or perfectly styled. His face was… breathtaking. Strong jawline, high cheekbones, and eyes so piercingly blue they seemed to glow under the streetlights.

“Need a ride, Princess?” His voice was deep and smooth, with a hint of an accent I couldn’t place.

I stared at him, momentarily speechless. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine, not standing in front of me offering a ride.

“I—uh—” I stammered, suddenly acutely aware of how ridiculous I must look.

He leaned against the open car door, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Look, you don’t have to decide right now,” he said, his tone teasing. “But it’s either me or the taxi that’s going to take twenty minutes to show up.”

I glanced down the street. He wasn’t wrong.

After a moment, I sighed. “Alright,” I said, stepping closer. “But only because I don’t want to wait.”

“Fair enough,” he said, his smirk widening.

He opened the passenger door for me, and I slipped inside, the scent of leather and something faintly musky surrounding me. As he slid into the driver’s seat, he glanced at me, his blue eyes locking onto mine.

“I’m Harry, by the way,” he said, his voice soft but confident.

“Madison,” I replied, my voice steadier than I expected.

" Madison Taylor ” he said, starting the engine with a low rumble, “I've seen at the office several times”.

Who the hell was he? Was I about to become the star of a fifteen part serial killer documentary?

"The office?" I stammered, trying to hide my discomfort.

"Yes. I am Harry Sylvester King" he said coolly.

Ethan had a brother!!

My jaw dropped and I could feel sweat beads forming on my forehead.

I was beyond screwed.

As the car pulled away, I couldn’t help but steal glances at him. There was something about Harry that felt… different. Something good enough to drive my dumb fake husband to the edge of madness.