Chapter 3

Corvina's POV

My slap across Hesper's face snapped Myrtle completely sober.

She came stumbling off the couch and slapped me right back.

“Who the hell do you think you are? Nobody touches my brother!”

“You want to break up? Fine! You’re just some orphan nobody wanted—what makes you think you’re anybody?!”

My cheek was on fire. Eyes stinging, I raised my hand to hit her back.

Hesper caught my wrist in an iron grip and shoved me away. The small of my back slammed into the doorknob so hard my vision went black.

He pulled Myrtle behind him, irritation written all over his face.

“She’s drunk. You’re seriously going to fight with a drunk person?” He sighed. “Look, just go cool off. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

I stared at him in disbelief. He was so calm, like I was some stranger who didn’t matter.

He didn’t look at me again. He bent his head and murmured softly to Myrtle, who was still slurring and flailing. Every ounce of his tenderness went to her.

I dug my nails into my palms and dragged my hastily packed suitcases out the door.

At the hotel, I watched the pale dawn bleed through the cheap blinds before I finally closed my eyes.

When I woke up, the digital clock on the nightstand read 1:15 PM.

Our anniversary.

My phone was flooded with messages. My coworkers all wanted to know if this was finally the year Hesper popped the question.

Happy seven years!!! It’s happening this year, right??

What did Hesper plan?? Spill!!

Something twinged in my chest. I typed back two words: We’re done.

The messages panicked. Some thought I was kidding. Others told me not to throw a fit just because he hadn’t proposed. After all, Hesper was the steady, dependable CEO of Ashgrove Holdings—the future Alpha. A man in his twenties who could handle multi-million dollar acquisitions.

But they didn't know the man who, on our fifth anniversary, led me into the dark woods—the place I feared most since the rogue attacks—and let his sister drop a live snake onto my shoulders as a "prank."

He could take care of a corporate empire, but he never took care of me. Except when it came to Myrtle, I’d always told myself. But staring at the hotel ceiling, I knew a marriage built on my endless concessions wouldn't last anyway.

I let out a bitter laugh and, out of habit, opened Myrtle’s Instagram.

Her latest post was a photo dump from this morning. Hesper making heart hands with her. Hesper laughing on the roller coaster.

In the last photo, she sat behind him on his motorcycle, arms wrapped tight around his waist.

The caption: My brother treats me better than your boyfriends do. If we weren't adopted siblings, I'd date him in a heartbeat. 🤭🤍

He’d always told me amusement parks were a waste of time. "Kid stuff," he’d called it. So I had shoved down every silly, starry-eyed wish. Now I got it. It wasn’t that those things were boring. They were just boring with me.

I was about to delete the app when a text from Hesper popped up.

Don't overthink it, she's just acting out. I'm keeping her company for half the day. Come back later—she wants to apologize to you in person.

I frowned. I was about to type No thanks when a delivery notification popped up.

It was the anniversary gift I’d ordered for him weeks ago. Delivered—to our apartment.

I thought about it. I should probably say what needed to be said, face to face.

And I needed to give back my keys.

At least we could end this like adults. Part on good terms.

That afternoon, I pulled myself together and pushed open the apartment door.

I headed straight for the bedroom, but Myrtle stepped into the hallway, blocking my path. She stood under the entryway light, eyes red, holding out a steaming mug.

“Corvina, I was drunk last night... I hit you. I’m so sorry.” She offered the cup. “I made you this ginger tea. If you drink it, it means you forgive me. Please?”

"I don't want it. Move," I said, stepping past her.

Myrtle’s lip immediately trembled. She shrank back, blocking the doorframe, her voice breaking. "I know you're mad, but I just want you to forgive me."

Hesper stepped out of the bedroom, positioning his broad frame right in front of the drawer holding my passport. "Don't be like this," he said, his tone laced with heavy blame. "She’s trying to make amends. Stop making things so difficult."

"I just want my things, Hesper."

"Then accept her apology," he said flatly, crossing his arms.

I looked at them. He was literally holding my belongings hostage over his sister's hurt feelings. I just wanted to grab my passport and walk away forever, but knowing Hesper, he would physically block me from packing if I made her cry. If I didn't drink it, they'd never drop it.

Fine. The tea smelled like normal ginger root anyway. If one sip buys my ransom and a clean break from the last seven years, so be it.

I snatched the mug and swallowed.

The moment it went down, a strange, bitter numbness shot up from the back of my tongue, dragging a thousand tiny, stabbing needles all the way down my throat.