Two years ago…
Elizabeth
The shower left me refreshed, the cold water chasing away the sticky heat of the day. I slipped into one of my loose-fit nighties, the hem brushing just above my pink knees, and padded softly into the bedroom.
I checked my phone. Past 10 p.m. No calls. No texts. Nothing.
Why is he taking so long to come home? Didn't he say he'd be late? But isn't this late enough?
My chest tightened with unease. My thumb hovered over the call button, but I hesitated. What if he was in the middle of something important? What if I distracted him and made things worse? He hated unnecessary disturbance, and I knew it.
With a sigh, I set my phone back down and headed downstairs. I hadn't eaten yet—I wanted to wait for him so we could have dinner together. Maybe that was silly, but it mattered to me.
I busied myself in the kitchen, the clinking of pots and the rich smell of food filling the air. By the time dinner was ready, I carefully set the table, laying out cutlery and glasses the way he liked. Then I returned to the kitchen to bring out the dishes.
That's when I heard it.
My phone ringing—sharply, insistently—from upstairs.
My heart leapt. Finally, it must be him. Maybe he was on his way home now, letting me know he'd be here any minute.
I didn't think twice. I rushed back up the stairs, almost tripping over the hem of my nightie in my haste. I snatched up the phone from the nightstand, breathless.
But the screen made me frown.
Unknown number. No name. No location. No ID.
For a second, my fingers hovered, uncertain. Then I pressed the green button and lifted it to my ear.
"Hello?"
And then a deep, familiar voice filled the line—but it wasn't Sebastian's.
"Lizzy… it's Antoni."
Yes, I knew that voice. But why did he sound… shaken? Like the words were trembling out of him?
"I—I um…" he faltered, his breath uneven. "There's something that just happened."
My heart pounded so violently I could hear it in my ears. I felt cold all over. "Antoni, you sound bothered," I whispered, my voice already breaking. "Is… is everything okay?"
God, please. Please don't let it be what I'm thinking.
"Actually, it's…" He stuttered again, each pause crushing me. "There's this thing that just happened right now. I don't know if you can… if you can take it."
"Antoni, you're scaring me!" My lips quivered, my hand trembling so badly the phone nearly slipped. "What is this thing that just happened? Why can't I take it? Is Bianca okay? Tell me she's fine!"
Bianca. I had spoken with her earlier—she was laughing, lively, herself. She had to be okay.
"Yes, she's fine." His sigh was heavy, loaded. "It's not about her."
"Then who?" My voice rose, my patience shattered into jagged pieces. "Who is this about?"
Silence stretched across the line, deafening, unbearable. Then—
"It's Seb."
The name hit me like a knife.
"He… he was in a fatal car accident." Antoni's voice cracked. "He didn't make it."
For a moment, the world ended.
"AAAAhhhhhHHHHhhhhh!" My scream ripped out of me, raw, tearing my throat apart. I didn't even recognize it as my own voice. My knees gave way and I collapsed to the floor, dropping onto my butt, my whole body shivering as if I'd been plunged into ice.
"He… he… what did you just say?" My words stumbled out, broken sobs shaking them apart. "No. No—no, it can't be true! You're lying. You're lying, Antoni! Tell me you're joking. Please, tell me you're joking!" Hot tears poured down my face, blinding me.
"Lizzy, you have to do me a favor," Antoni said softly, his voice straining to hold itself steady. "Please… pull yourself together, okay?"
How could he ask me that? How could he sound calm when he had just told me that the love of my life—his cousin, my Sebastian—was dead?
"I… I can't," I choked out, my voice collapsing into a whisper. "I can't."
"You have to. Please." He sighed, the weight of sorrow heavy in it. "Alright. How about this—I'll send you the address. Come meet us there. His family is here… and they're going to lay the body to rest."
"They won't dare." I pushed myself up to my feet, fists clenched, my eyes bloodshot and burning. "They have no right to do that. My Sebastian is not dead. No—he's not. I know it. We were just together earlier, he was full of life. You don't get to tell me that shit. Those are lies. Absolute bullshit!"
"You have to calm down… for his sake," Antoni murmured.
"I'm coming there. Right now." My voice shook but carried a sharp edge. "Send me the address, and nobody—nobody—dares lay a finger on him."
I hung up before he could say more. Two seconds later, a notification blinked—the location.
Pulling it up on Google Maps, my frown deepened. This wasn't a cemetery. It wasn't a mortuary. The pin dropped on what looked like… an event center. A five-star venue.
What the hell was going on?
I rushed into the wardrobe, yanking at hangers until my hands landed on something—anything. My pulse was too loud in my ears to think.
In the end, I pulled on a red floral maxi with short sleeves and slipped into black flats. Not black. Not mourning clothes. I refuse to dress like I'm going to a funeral—because I'm not. My boyfriend is alive.
Downstairs, the garage swallowed me in darkness until the motion sensors flicked the lights on. A dozen of his cars gleamed back at me, trophies lined in chrome and glass. I snatched a random key from the rack, pressed the button, and the sleek black BMW Z5 blinked its headlights at me in reply.
"Good," I muttered, sliding behind the wheel.
The engine roared, and I sped onto the highway, every mile pulling me closer to answers.
By the time Google Maps announced I had arrived, I was gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles had gone white.
Luxury cars lined the entrance, rows of gleaming machines under the soft glow of the building's lights. I slowed, staring.
This… wasn't grief. This wasn't a wake. It was something else entirely.
I parked and stepped out, heart hammering. Antoni appeared almost instantly, striding toward me in sharp two-piece casuals, looking like he'd stepped out of a magazine shoot instead of a tragedy.
"Thank God you're right on time," he said, a little too smoothly.
"Where is his body?" I demanded, cutting through the pretense, my eyes locked on him. I didn't care if the place looked like anything but a funeral. I wanted answers.
"You have to calm down. Take a deep breath. I'll take you there." His voice was soft, coaxing, but the gentler he spoke, the harder my fear clawed at me.
"Are you taking me there or not?" I snapped, my voice cracking.
He held my gaze for a long, silent moment, those grey eyes unreadable in the dim light. Finally, he nodded and turned, leading the way.
The foyer swallowed us in stillness. Shadows pressed against the walls, thick and suffocating. My footsteps echoed faintly, as though the place were empty. But it wasn't. It couldn't be.
Antoni's hand found mine, firm and steady, guiding me. "Careful. Don't miss a step."
My heart thudded louder. The air smelled faintly of roses and candle wax, but no flame burned. "Why is everywhere so dark?" My voice trembled. "I need to turn on my flashlight—"
"No." He cut me off sharply, his grip tightening. His face was taut, as though he was holding back something. "The family requested a dark and silent impression for this… section."
I stopped walking. "What does that even mean? Do they have some kind of twisted tradition?" My patience was wearing thin.
He gave me no answer, only tugged me forward.
"This is absurd," I muttered, shivering. "You need to light a candle, something. I'm not at peace in this kind of dark."
"If you must meet his family and proceed with the rites," he said quietly, "you have to lower your voice. We're already in their midst."
A chill ran down my spine. I strained to see, but the blackness was heavy, swallowing everything. Only the faint glint of Antoni's eyes kept me tethered.
I swallowed hard, then raised my voice, letting it ricochet through the silence: "I'm telling everyone here—I want to see my man!" My words echoed back at me, hollow and cruel. No reply came. No movement. Just… silence.
"He is not dead," I said, louder, defiant tears burning down my face. "I know it."
"Lizzy—" Antoni began.
"No!" My scream tore out of me, shaking the hall. "You think I believe the hell you're all feeding me? My Sebastian can't die. He is my solid rock. Nothing can happen to him!"
His face tightened, grief and warning tangled together. "But he's gone," he whispered. "You have to believe it—"
"To where?" My voice sliced through the darkness, then a bitter, broken laugh spilled out. "You think I'll buy that shit you just pronounced? Tell his whole damn family—every last one of them—that I'll still date his corpse if he truly dies."
Even in the blackness, I caught the lift of Antoni's brows. "You're so damn in love with my cousin that you'd date his corpse."
"Yes!" I screamed, chest heaving. "I'm fucking insane for him. If it means I have to marry his corpse, then I will—because he's worth it." The sobs tore through me, raw and violent. "He's my life. If you're too blind to see it, then his ghost isn't."
Antoni's lips curved into a grin, one too satisfied, too deliberate for the moment. "Then in that case—congratulations. You just won yourself a golden dragon trophy tonight."
My tears blurred my vision. I didn't understand a damn thing. "What do you mean by that?"
He stayed quiet, eyes glinting in the dark like he held a secret I wasn't meant to know. Rage flared in me. I grabbed a fistful of his brown hair and yanked, forcing him down to his knees.
"Ouch—ouch! You're pulling my hair, Lizzy!" He winced. "It's my hair, not Sebastian's!"
"You haven't answered my question yet. You think this is some kind of joke, huh?" My grip tightened, nails biting into my palm.
"Sebastian!" Antoni yelped, struggling. "Dude, turn on the lights, she's got my hair—"
And then—
"Surprise!!!!!"
The shout exploded through the hall.
"Ahhh!" I jolted back, covering my eyes as blinding light burst in all at once, stabbing through the black. My ears rang with laughter and clapping, a wave of sound crashing against me.
Surprise? For who?
Blinking past the glare, I peeked out between my fingers. Dozens of faces beamed back at me—men, women, all grinning wide. Bianca and Natasha were there too, glowing with mischief, joined by dashing strangers I'd never seen before.
At the far end, a stage gleamed beneath spotlights. Banners rippled overhead. The Newsboys stood ready with their instruments, waiting for the cue to strike the first note.
My chest heaved. My tears were still fresh on my cheeks, my heart still fractured from death, and yet—before me was celebration.
Newsboys?
What the hell is going on here?
I had no one to ask, no one to scream at, until my eyes fell on the thick alphabetical balloons strung high across the wall—bold, gleaming letters spelling out:
MARRY ME.
My breath caught.
Antoni—the same Antoni I nearly strangled a second ago—rose to his feet with a grin that stretched from ear to ear. "I guess this is it. His body." That was all he said before turning to join the others in a roaring standing ovation.
I swallowed hard, humiliation and confusion surging hot through me. My eyes darted desperately to Bianca, then to Natasha. Both only held those maddeningly honest smiles, as if they'd known every beat of this cruel game from the beginning.
I didn't even have the strength to mouth a single word. The universe felt like it was cracking beneath me. I needed to see one person—just one—and demand an explanation. But he wasn't here.
Then—heat.
A warmth behind me, stealing what little oxygen I had left.
I turned in slow motion, heart pounding, dread and longing colliding in my chest.
And there he was.
Sebastian.
Kneeling. Right in front of me. A diamond ring balanced in his hand—the very same billion-dollar Russian jewel we'd seen together a year ago, the one I swore no man could ever dare to buy.
My fingers curled tightly into the fabric of my dress as my eyes flicked from his face to the blinding brilliance of that ring.
Antoni's stunt, the faked death, all of it unraveled in my head in a single breath. But the only words that made it past my trembling lips were:
"What are you doing?"
My voice was small, fragile, trembling between disbelief and yearning.
I was torn—my instincts screamed with excitement, but my timidity burned hotter, whispering how unbearably embarrassing it was to have the whole world watching.
Then his deep voice broke the eerie silence, steady but thick with emotion.
"Elizabeth… words can't express how much love I have for you. From the very day you walked into my life, everything changed. I never believed in love—never thought it was for me. But you… you showed me it's the one thing I can't live without.
You made me realize that without you, I'd be nothing but a shadow of a man. You've taught me that you are—and always will be—the greatest gift life has given me. A gift money could never buy.
And for that reason, I'm here today, humbling myself. I've thrown my pride at the door. I'm begging for one favor that will bless not just me, but the generations I pray will come from us.
Elizabeth Serena Rodriguez Barros… from the bottom of my heart—marry me. Marry me and bear my children."
I froze. My throat locked up. I didn't know how to speak, even though inside me the answer was ringing like church bells.
Sebastian's eyes never left mine—burning, hopeful, yet shadowed by fear that I might break him.
Behind us, I caught the whispers—Natasha, Bianca, others—breathing out a hushed chant of say yes, say yes, say yes.
I looked at him, then the ring, then back at him. His eyes were teetering on the edge of hopelessness.
And then—miraculously, uncontrollably—my lips curved into a smile.
"Yes," I whispered, shaking my head at the sheer madness of it all. "Yes. I'll marry you."
The relief on his face was instant, like light breaking through storm clouds. His eyes lit up, and from somewhere in the back Antoni let out a wild whistle.
So this was it? This was really happening? I was officially engaged—truly, deeply, undeniably. Somebody pinch me before I pass out.
Without another second wasted, Sebastian took my hand and slid the ring onto my finger.
Cheers erupted all around us, but I barely heard them. He was already pulling me into his arms, his mouth on mine in a deep, warm kiss that seemed to claim every piece of me.
We melted into each other, tongues meeting, laughter spilling in between when I lost my breath. He chuckled softly against my lips.
"I love you," he murmured, still holding me like he'd never let go.
"I love you more." I bit down on my lower lip, heat spreading across my cheeks.
Sebastian tilted his head, studying me. "Did Antoni stress you too much?"
I huffed, still half shaken. "He said you died, Seb. I almost had a heart attack."
He winced dramatically. "I'll kill him later."
I laughed, pressing my face into his chest to hide my tears and smile all at once. "Oh, please don't."
The sudden swell of instruments pulled our gazes apart. We both turned toward the stage just as the familiar voices of Newsboys filled the room—singing HERO.
My eyes widened, my heart skipping. "Sebastian… tell me you didn't do that."
He only grinned wider, eyes glued to the stage like a proud conspirator. "At least your favorite band is performing on your big day. Don't forget—it's still your birthday, love."
Before I could even react, Natasha's scream cut through the music. "This is a double celebration!"
She barreled straight at me, Bianca trailing behind. "Happy birthday, girlfriend!" Natasha wrapped me in a bear hug, while Bianca leaned in to plant a noisy kiss on my cheek.
"Happy B-day and engagement day, bitch," Bianca teased with a wicked grin.
"Thank you, guys," I managed between laughter, hugging them back with all the love in my chest.
Meanwhile, Sebastian was quickly swallowed by a circle of his friends, laughter and handshakes echoing from their side. Natasha and Bianca, of course, wasted no time tugging me to the edge of the crowd, squealing over my finger like it was made of gold.
"God, this is a fortune," Bianca sighed sweetly, her eyes nearly glazing at the diamond.
"I know, right?" Natasha added, shaking her head in disbelief. "But our Lizzy—she's way beyond what money can buy—ouch!"
Bianca had pinched her arm with a smirk. "Don't get poetic now. Just admit you're jealous."
Natasha rolled her eyes, rubbing her arm, while I laughed so hard my sides hurt. The world felt dizzy, sparkling, alive.
I elbowed Natasha in the side when she started picking on Seb's words, and she only snickered.
Just then, a cluster of women I barely recognized flounced their way toward us, their perfume trailing behind them. Before I knew it, we were chatting and laughing as if we'd known each other for years. They turned out to be the girlfriends and wives of Sebastian's friends—beautiful, polished, all carrying themselves with that effortless poise that matched the room.
Every now and then, when my eyes flickered toward Sebastian, I'd catch him engrossed in conversation with his circle. He'd tilt his head my way, wink slyly, and mouth one word—sugar.
My cheeks would warm instantly, and I'd hide my grin before the women noticed. Still, I entertained myself more with Newsboys performing on stage than with the endless girlie chatter around me.
Thank God I was dressed appropriately tonight. Imagine if I had really worn black, thinking Antoni staged an actual funeral. Oh, Antoni. That man was something else—he got me good this time.
The Newsboys played track after track, practically their full album, before the emcee finally stepped onto the stage. At his cue, everyone began taking seats around the long linear tables arranged neatly across the room. Each table was set for two—every couple in their own intimate spot without being crowded.
Some of Seb's friends were single, others married. One couple, Seb had told me about before, had waited five long years before God blessed them with a child. They were here tonight too, their table glowing with the presence of their seven-month-old, chubby-cheeked baby boy.
As the emcee spoke, the baby kept reaching his little arms toward me, wriggling and fussing until his mother laughed softly.
"It seems it won't take long before you conceive your own," she teased warmly, handing him over to me.
I chuckled, settling him against me. "Generally, I love kids."
Almost instantly, the little one dozed off in my arms, his tiny breaths even and his face angelic. I couldn't stop staring—he was so gorgeous in sleep that I didn't even want to hand him back.
Sebastian leaned in, brushing a finger across the baby's plump cheek. I swatted his hand away with a hushed warning.
"Don't. You'll wake him up."
He smirked at me like I was already the mother of his children.
"Babies don't get amused when I tickle them, but this one's sleeping happily in your arms. Hmm." Sebastian tilted his head, watching me like I was a puzzle. "You sure have some spell you cast on people."
I snorted. "Like the one I cast on you?"
For a moment, he just stared at me, like he was actually considering it. Then his lips curved. "Even if it's real, I'd gladly stay under that spell forever."
My heart gave a little flutter as I carefully handed the sleeping child back to his mother. She thanked me warmly, whispering how rarely he fell asleep in noisy places like this.
"The fucking best friend!" someone hollered suddenly, snapping our heads in his direction.
Antoni's brows shot up. "What the fuck?" he mouthed.
The guy just shrugged, raising his glass. "You weren't paying attention. The emcee asked: 'Make out with your ex or your best friend?' Dude, I'd choose my bestie any day before I go back to that retarded bitch of an asshole."
Laughter broke out all around—including from Seb—before the emcee cleared his throat and redirected the spotlight.
"Alright, here's another one," he said, flipping through his book. "This one's a bit X-rated—but trust me, the answers are always innocent."
"Bring it on!" someone yelled from across the tables, earning an immediate elbow from his wife.
The emcee grinned. "Whoever answers three riddles correctly gets to come up here with their partner for the next game. Ready? Okay, listen closely: I get wet before you do. You put your poles in me. You tie me down to get me up."
I blinked, my mouth parting slightly. What the hell kind of riddle is that?
Across the room, Bianca and Natasha were already giggling like schoolgirls, clearly enjoying this dirty-sounding trivia far more than I was.
I felt Sebastian's hand slide across my thigh and instantly slapped it away, shooting him a sharp glare that screamed behave.
"A tree," one guy suggested.
"Nope," the emcee shook his head.
"Highway?" another tried, earning a round of side-eyes and muttered what-the-hells.
The emcee stifled a laugh. "Definitely not."
Then Sebastian's voice cut through, smooth and smug. "A fucking tent."
I tilted my head at him, narrowing my eyes, and he just winked like the devil himself.
"Exactly!" the emcee announced with a grin.
From nearby, Antoni groaned under his breath, "Damn it. I was this close."
The emcee flipped a page. "Alright, here's another one: You stick your finger in me, and I'm dripping—"
"Donut," Sebastian interrupted confidently.
"Correct!" The emcee clapped once and pointed his pen at him. "Two for two. One more and you're on stage with your fiancée."
My heart dropped like a stone. Heat crept up my neck as I bit the inside of my cheek. Please fail. Just this once. For me. Please.
Selfish, selfish me.
The emcee grinned, milking the suspense. "Okay, last one: I fucking kiss my mother before I die—"
"Matchstick." Sebastian answered without missing a beat, not even letting the man finish.
Cheers erupted around us. The emcee's laughter filled the mic. "Ladies and gentlemen, we've got a winner! Bring your lady up here!"
I froze in my chair, staring at him in horror. Sebastian's smirk widened as he leaned toward me.
"Come on, sugar," he whispered in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. "Don't be shy now. They're waiting for us."
Everyone applauded—including Antoni, though his sulking face said otherwise. Bianca leaned in, wagging a finger at him, scolding him like a schoolboy who'd just failed his exam.
"Three points wrapped up. Can you come up here and sit?" the emcee called into the mic, waving us forward.
I muttered curses under my breath, glaring at Sebastian's back as he tugged me along.
"That was a quack game," I hissed, gathering the sides of my dress carefully so I wouldn't trip on the way. "Was it necessary that you win?"
"Maybe," he said with maddening calm, stretching out his hand to help me onto the stage.
And that's when I noticed it—his clothes. A plain white Dior designer shirt paired with brown khaki. When did he even change? Did he sneak home while I was distracted? The thought made me pinch my lips into a thin line as I accepted his hand.
"It was just a game, Seb. It didn't require so much effort."
"As far as it got us up here, it certainly does, baby," he whispered, smugness dripping like honey.
We settled into the seats the emcee pointed to—back-to-back chairs, perfectly set for zero peeking.
"Here you go," the emcee handed each of us a medium-sized whiteboard, a black marker, and an eraser. "You'll be playing Naughty Couple Trivia. I'll ask a question, and you'll write down your answers without looking at each other's. Then on the count of three, you flip your boards to the audience. Sound good?"
Seb and I nodded in unison.
The emcee tapped his book against his thigh, eyes twinkling like he'd just been waiting for this moment. "Alright, let's see how well you two know each other… especially in the naughty department!"
The crowd cheered, whistled, and laughed.
I bit down on my lower lip, my throat tightening. My fingers clutched the marker like a dagger. Oh no. This was the game?
The emcee leaned closer to the mic, grinning ear-to-ear. "Remember, folks, if their answers don't match, it only means one thing…" he paused dramatically, "…someone's been hiding secrets."
The crowd roared again.
I swallowed hard, my heart already sprinting. I had no clue whether to pray the questions were mild… or to pray Sebastian didn't make them worse.
"If they match, you get a point. If they don't…" the emcee paused just as Leonard whooped from the back.
"Lap dance or cocktail shot!" Leonard hollered.
The whole crowd erupted, Natasha giggling and clapping along.
"I like that idea," the emcee smirked, clearly feeding off the chaos. "So here it goes—Question one: What's her favorite time of day for sex?"
My soul nearly left my body. Really? We're starting with this?
I wanted to crawl under my chair and die. Instead, I heard Seb's marker squeak against the board like he had no hesitation whatsoever. Of course.
By the time the countdown started, panic forced me to scribble something—anything. Lap dance or cocktail shot were already flashing like neon warnings in my head. I wrote, Late night, after wine, and quickly flipped my board without daring to look up. My eyes stayed glued to the floor.
The crowd whooped. Whistled. Teased.
My stomach twisted. God, what did he write?
The emcee's grin said everything.
When I finally looked up, Seb's board flashed Night.
Of course.
We matched.
The audience clapped and urged for the next.
"Alright! Bedroom edition," the emcee leaned into his mic with exaggerated flair, "What's her favorite position?"
My mouth went dry. Oh Lord, no. Not this. Anyone but me.
From the corner, Bianca cupped her hands around her mouth. "You got this, Lizzy!"
I wanted to throw my marker at her.
My trembling hand scribbled down the safest, most random thing that came to mind: Him on top. Then I squeezed my eyes shut and flipped it around.
The roar from the audience made me peek.
Seb's board read: She beneath.
We matched. Again.
The emcee looked delighted. "Damn, these two are synced already!" He shook his head, chuckling before scanning his book for the next. "Alright, one more—If sex was food, how many kids would you two have by now?"
The audience howled.
My heart thumped. I already knew Seb would ruin me with his answer.
I scribbled A million.
Seb jotted Uncountable.
The audience erupted, some slapping their tables, others doubling over with laughter. I swear my head stayed buried the whole time. If the ground would open now and let me crawl into the basement bathroom, I'd be the happiest woman alive.
The emcee was practically bouncing in place. "Alright, next one—How often would you ideally have sex each week?"
I didn't even think. My hand moved on its own, fueled by panic and sarcasm. With Seb's consistency, it's difficult to tell. Maybe a whole week indeed.
The second the crowd saw it, they burst into wild laughter, clapping and stomping.
Even Seb tilted his board slowly, his brow raised in disbelief before he snorted, struggling not to laugh. His answer? A whole week.
Perfect match.
"Do you guys actually fuck every day?" Antoni cackled from his table.
"Shut it, Toni!" I yelled back without turning.
The emcee grinned devilishly. "Next—Is she louder… or quieter in bed?"
Seb didn't hesitate—he wrote Louder.
My confidence fizzled. I knew I couldn't give them the satisfaction, so I scribbled Quieter.
"Gotcha!" Natasha shrieked from her table, nearly falling out of her chair with laughter.
I narrowed my eyes and mouthed, I'll fry you.
She responded by sticking her thumb in her mouth and making exaggerated sucking sounds.
The audience roared. I wanted to vanish.
The emcee wagged his brows at me. "Seems like one of your buddies knows you're busting some bubbles, sweetheart."
I bit my lip, cheeks burning.
He barely gave me time to recover before reading the next. "Lights on, or lights off?"
I snapped my marker against the board and scribbled Off without a second's thought. At this point, I didn't care what Seb wrote—just let this torture end.
But from the look of things, and the little signs of encouragement I was getting from the audience, I figured Seb must have matched me too.
"Next one—Who's more likely to fall asleep after sex?" the emcee asked.
I scribbled quickly: Me.
Seb tilted his board at the same time. Her.
The crowd whooped. Easy win.
"What part of the body do you find the sexiest?"
I hesitated, then wrote Earlobe.
Seb revealed the same. My stomach fluttered—I didn't know whether to be flattered or embarrassed.
But then came the question that sealed my fate.
"What's the wildest place you two have done it?"
My marker hovered. My brain screamed Lie! but my hand betrayed me. I scribbled Church Cathedral.
The collective gasp that tore through the hall nearly made my ears ring.
I lifted my eyes—Seb's face went blank. He remembered it too. That reckless afternoon months ago when we raced, half-mad with adrenaline, and ended up in that abandoned cathedral. The silence. The stained glass. The way he'd kissed me against the cold stone until the world blurred.
And now the whole room knew.
"You two didn't… you didn't fucking do that, right?" The emcee's voice cracked, staring between us like he'd just witnessed blasphemy.
"Damn, you two are dirty," Antoni groaned, clutching his chest. "I thought I was unclean, but Seb—you're your fucking father's son."
"In the… the church?" another guy cackled from a corner. "Holy Mother of Jesus. Somebody pass me the holy water. And communion."
The crowd erupted in laughter, some even crossing themselves dramatically.
I couldn't take it anymore. My cheeks burned, my knees weak.
"I need to use the bathroom," I muttered, bolting from the stage before anyone could stop me.
As I dismissed the room, Natasha's voice followed me like a sharp whisper of betrayal.
"Geez, she was the last to get deflowered, but she's the more experienced one. Honey, I think we should try that one."
"In an empty fucking church? Jesus didn't see that, did He?" Leonard chuckled under his breath, and the audience roared again.
I fled.
In the bathroom, I splashed cool water over my face, watching it drip into the sink. My reflection stared back—flushed, trembling, humiliated. I sighed, clutching the edge of the counter. That was a tough question out there. Tougher than any game should've been.
And honestly, I blamed Seb for winning in the first place.
I turned to leave, but the echo of heavy footsteps down the hallway froze me in place. Men's voices followed—low, hushed, unfamiliar. My bad habit took over: I eavesdropped.
"Frank, it's been ten years already. The best thing she would've wanted from you is to move on."
A pause. Then a voice, raw and aching:
"Easier said than done. You have no idea how much I love Betty—even to death."
My breath caught.
"But she's dead now. Long dead and gone. It's time you pull yourself together and get back on track."
A loud thud rattled the wall, and I flinched. He'd punched something. My heart ached at the sound.
"I hate blaming myself for her death," he rasped. "Yes, I caused it. If I hadn't brought her with me to the cult war, she wouldn't have died."
Cult war? My pulse quickened.
"Hey, man. That's why you're a dragon. Sebastian wasn't with us that day, or trust me, none of those bastards would've laid a hand on our men—let alone put a bullet through Betty's chest."
I froze. My hand covered my mouth.
Shot? Betty was shot?
A lump rose in my throat. Poor soul… may she rest in peace under the bosom of the Lord.
"I wish it had been me instead," Frank's voice cracked. "God, I wish time could turn back and take my life instead of hers."
"Dude, come on. Life has its reasons. Things happen," the other man insisted. My chest tightened at how calmly he said it. "Besides… Ben's sister, Goldie, she's been eyeing you for months now. Didn't he say she just graduated from Harvard?"
My mind reeled. Betty's death. A cult war. Sebastian's name buried inside it all.
I pressed my back to the wall, trying to steady my breath.
Did I just stumble into something I wasn't meant to know?
"I'm not playing a shot on her," Frank muttered, voice low but firm. "My mind is far apart from a relationship now."
"Not until you try, Frank. You can't genuinely tell until you test your motives. Look at Sebastian. That guy was once like you—in fact, you were better, because he never even gave relationships a chance. It's like blood and roses—different, but the same color. And now? He's engaged. Before you know it, he'll be married."
A blush crept across my cheeks at the mention of Seb. I couldn't help it—the way they credited my man, my soon-to-be husband, warmed me through the embarrassment of the game show disaster. Their voices eventually faded as they walked off, leaving the hallway quiet again.
I took one last glance in the mirror, smoothing my dress and fixing my hair, before stepping out.
Halfway down the passage, a sound caught my ear. A breathy moan. Then a groan.
Bianca.
Antoni.
My jaw dropped. Seriously? In the bathroom? They can't be serious.
I slapped a hand over my ears and quickened my pace, trying to erase the lewd soundtrack from my mind.
Then—bump.
I collided with Seb at the foyer door.
"Hey, you almost took forever." His face lit up the second he saw me, and for a moment the hallway scandal dissolved.
"But I just left a few moments ago," I sighed. Honestly, he was everywhere. Always showing up. Always checking in. Sometimes it made me feel safe; other times, insecure.
"Minutes ago," he corrected, sliding his arm over my shoulders as we walked back toward the hall. His frown deepened. "Did you see Antoni and Bianca?"
I bit my lip and flicked my gaze toward the bathroom door.
"They won't be… present for a while."
His brows shot up, following my line of sight.
"They're in there, aren't they?"
"Busy." I shrugged, tiny and innocent.
"Banging," Seb corrected smoothly, like he knew exactly what was happening behind that door. "They're whipping hot and cold. Let's leave them be."
I don't know how I managed to ask, "Who are Frank, Betty, Ben, and Goldie?"
Seb stopped mid-step, turning to me with furrowed brows. "How the hell do you know those names? They're my people."
"Well…" I definitely wasn't about to confess I'd been eavesdropping. "Some people were conversing when I walked in. I caught the names." My voice came out casual—well, as casual as I could manage.
Silence hung between us a moment before he answered, his tone dropping low, matter-of-fact. "Frank is third in command after Antoni. Betty was his girlfriend, but he lost her in a war clash ten years ago. Ben is my best friend, my right-hand. Goldie is his younger sister—she's openly infatuated with Frank."
So I had heard right. Hmm. What I admired about Seb was how candid he was whenever I asked—never beating around the bush, just giving me the truth straight.
Just then, the bathroom door swung open. Antoni and Bianca emerged, looking like they'd been wrestled down by a hurricane. Clothes disheveled, sweat beading on their foreheads, trying desperately to look casual.
Seb's lips curled with amusement, and then—fweeeet—he let out a cool whistle. I nearly choked on my laughter.
"Now," he drawled, eyes glinting, "it's my turn to ask you two a trivia question."
"Oh, go away, dragon." Antoni waved him off, looking as embarrassed as Bianca, who ducked her head like a thief caught mid-act.
"Look at her sweating. You almost killed her." Seb teased mercilessly. Poor Bianca covered her face with both hands.
"And you," he pivoted to Antoni with a grin, "didn't even button your shirt properly. Your belt's still unbuckled."
Antoni instantly glanced down at himself, flustered, only to realize Seb was bluffing.
"You're crazy, you know that?" Antoni shot back.
Seb feigned mock-shock. "What was that again? That I'm dirty and you're unclean?" He smirked, twisting the knife. "Oh wait—you're your father's fucking son."
Antoni groaned, realizing Seb had turned his own words against him.
Antoni groaned, realizing Seb had twisted his words back at him. Then he turned to me, shaking his head with mock despair.
"Your fiancé is a maniac."
I tried, really tried, to keep a straight face—but failed. A laugh escaped me, and Seb's arm tightened smugly around my shoulders like he'd just won another trophy.
"Correction," Seb shot back with a grin, "your future brother-in-law is just mad he can't outplay me."
Bianca groaned into her palms, "Can we not have this conversation right now?"
"Too late," Seb sang, utterly delighted.