Chapter 2: Kicked While Down

I pressed my hand to my chest, fighting for breath. Panic flared. The pain was maddening, a constant reminder of how powerless I was.

I grabbed Sebastian's wrist. "Sebastian, come in." The words tumbled out, wild and desperate.

My grip was frantic, nails digging into his skin. I didn't care if I left marks. I just needed him, consequences be damned.

He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing as he finally gave in.

He hesitated for just a heartbeat, then yanked off his shirt and stepped into the tub with me. Water sloshed over the edge, soaking the mat. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, but I didn't care.

The bathroom lights were harsh, fluorescent and glaring, but I couldn't care less.

The white light exposed everything—every bruise, every freckle, every flaw. I was past caring. All I saw was him.

Desire had long since drowned out any sense of shame. All I wanted was him.

Nothing else mattered. Not the past, not the future—just this moment, just him. I could barely breathe.

In the mirror, Sebastian and I were tangled together, wrapped around each other. I barely recognized us. How did it come to this?

Our reflections were wild, almost feral. I saw my own flushed cheeks, the hunger in his eyes, and for a second, I wondered who we even were anymore.

I said so many things I would regret. The thought made my stomach drop.

Promises, confessions, pleas—they spilled out in a haze, too fast to catch, too honest to take back. Shame prickled over my skin.

At five in the morning, I ran away—right after sleeping with my stepbrother. The words echoed in my head, cold and final.

The sky was just beginning to lighten, the city silent and still. My hands shook as I pulled on my clothes, grabbed my purse, and slipped out the door, heart pounding. What the hell had I done?

Because I honestly had no idea how I could face him when I sobered up. Shame crawled over my skin.

Every step down the hallway felt like a betrayal. I kept my head low, praying no one saw me. The shame was suffocating, but I couldn't stop. I just kept running. My lungs burned.

Back at my apartment building, as soon as I stepped out of the elevator, I saw Lucas Morales slumped by my door. Dread punched me in the gut.

He looked so out of place in that sterile hallway, slumped against the wall in a wrinkled suit from last night. His hair stuck up, and his eyes were rimmed red—like he'd been crying, or maybe just hadn't slept. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

A bitter laugh escaped me as I walked over. I couldn't help it.

The sound was sharp, brittle. The absurdity of it all was just too much. God, what a mess.

"You're in the way. Move." The words came out colder than I meant, but I didn't care. Not anymore. Not after everything.

My voice was ice, sharper than I'd intended. I didn't care. I was done with pretending. Whatever happened now, happened.

Lucas turned, eyes bloodshot. For a second, I saw regret flicker there, but I didn't let it get to me.

He looked up at me, desperate and broken. For a split second, I almost pitied him—almost.

"Autumn, you're back. I didn't have a choice, but don't worry, I'll make it up to you." His voice trembled with fake reassurance.

His words tumbled out, rushed and pleading. He sounded like a kid caught stealing cookies—not a grown man who'd just sold out the woman he claimed to love. Pathetic.

I snorted, cold and mean. He deserved worse.

The sound was ugly, but I didn't care. He deserved every bit of it. I wanted him to feel small.

"You already sold me out—what's the point of pretending you care now? Lucas, I must have been blind." Regret twisted in my gut.

The words tasted bitter. I wanted to spit them at him, to make him feel a fraction of my pain. I hoped they hurt.

Honestly, before he handed me that glass of water last night, I'd already decided to tell him who I really was—about my family, about everything.

I'd rehearsed the speech a hundred times in my head. I was going to trust him, to let him in. God, I was such a fool.

I knew he was struggling with his business, so I even thought about asking my dad to help him. Another mistake to add to the list.

I wanted to believe we were in this together, that I could save him. Turns out, he didn't want saving—he just wanted a shortcut. I felt sick.

But I didn't know he'd push me like that, coaxing me into drinking that glass of water first. I never saw it coming.

His smile had been sweet, his voice gentle. I never saw the trap until it was already too late. Shame burned in my chest.

"Autumn, I know you hate me, but I'm begging you—just forgive me this once. If this deal goes through, the Morales family can finally make it in Maple Heights. I'm doing this for you, so you can have the best life." His voice was desperate, but all I heard was selfishness.

He reached for my hand, but I jerked away. His words sounded like a script, practiced in front of the mirror. I wanted to gag.

"I've already bought the wedding ring, Autumn, I really love you. Will you marry me?" Disgust twisted in my stomach.

He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a velvet box. The sight made my stomach turn. He dropped to one knee, right there in the hallway, eyes shining with hope and desperation. It was pathetic.

The gesture was supposed to be romantic, but all I felt was revulsion. His face, once so gentle and refined, now looked twisted by fear and regret. I felt nothing but coldness.

I remembered all the times I'd trusted him, all the ways he'd let me down. It was like staring at a stranger wearing a mask of someone I used to love. My chest ached with bitterness.

I raised my foot and kicked him in the crotch, then grabbed my purse and slammed it into him, hard. Satisfaction bloomed in my chest.

The sound echoed in the quiet hallway. He doubled over, gasping, and I didn't stop until he was curled on the floor, red marks from my bag streaking his face. I felt triumphant.

I stood over him, chest heaving, and for the first time in months, I felt a flicker of freedom. Hope, thin but real, pulsed in my veins.

I didn't dare leave my apartment for days, terrified my stepbrother would come looking for me. Paranoia crept in with every shadow.

I kept the curtains drawn, my phone on silent. Every knock at the door sent my heart racing. Every unfamiliar footstep in the hall made me jump. I was a nervous wreck.

But Dad's birthday was coming up, and I had to go. No way out.

There was no avoiding it. Family obligations trumped everything, even shame and fear. I put on my best dress, practiced my smile in the mirror, and prayed no one would notice how empty I felt inside. I was barely holding it together.

"Happy birthday, Dad. Hope it's a great one." I forced a bright smile and raised my glass.