That night, around 11:30 p.m., I jerked awake feeling freezing cold.
The damn air conditioner in this guest room was blasting so hard that my nipples were practically cutting through the thin black lingerie I had worn, hoping Victor might notice before sleep took over.
"Big house, big problems."
I mumbled under my breath, rubbing my arms to warm myself. My skin was covered in goosebumps, my feet felt stiff, and the lace I wore suddenly felt far too revealing now that I was no longer half-asleep or horny.
I needed water.
My throat was dry as hell. I crept out of bed, still foggy, my eyes blurry from sleep. Barefoot, I walked slowly down the hallway toward the kitchen.
The house was silent except for the low hum of the air conditioner and the soft sound of my feet brushing lazily against the tiles.
Then I heard it.
"Give it to me, baby. I want you. Fuck me, my baby."
My stomach dropped.
I froze mid-step. My heart began hammering violently in my chest, and my stomach tightened.
A part of me wanted to turn around immediately and pretend I hadn't heard anything. But my feet kept moving quietly, almost like they had a mind of their own, until I was close enough to peek through the half-open kitchen doorway.
They hadn't even made it to the bedroom.
Victor had her pressed against the kitchen counter, her silk robe pushed open, her legs spread wide apart, her head thrown back as her dark hair spilled over the marble surface. His hands gripped the inside of her thighs, holding her open like he owned every inch of her.
And his face—
Fuck.
His mouth was buried between her legs.
I watched his tongue slide inside her slowly at first.
Then faster.
He moved against her like he was starving, his tongue working deeper while she whimpered and rolled her hips up to meet him. Her fingers tangled tightly in his hair, pulling him closer as she ground herself against his face like she couldn't get enough.
He groaned against her slowly, hungrily.
She reached down and grabbed his hard, veiny cock. Sliding down from the counter, she took him deep into her mouth.
Her head moved back and forth as she pushed him deeper into her throat. Victor groaned loudly, gripping her head and pulling her closer as she swallowed him again and again.
Even from where I stood behind the curtain, I could hear the wet sounds, the deep vibrations of his moans.
Then he groaned deeply, releasing into her mouth.
She swallowed it easily, like it was nothing.
He lifted her back onto the counter afterward, cupping her breasts in his hands. His thumb brushed over her nipple until it hardened instantly, and she arched against him, moaning his name.
"Oh yeah, Victor… that spot… right there… Oh God, yes…"
My chest burned.
Jealousy hit me so hard I could barely breathe.
I remembered this scene far too clearly.
**
Years ago, he had me up on this very same counter on his wedding night.
That night was supposed to be mine.
This was supposed to be my version of Victor. The rough, greedy, uncontrollable one.
Not this gentle, worshipping version he was giving her right now.
He looked like he was savoring her.
Like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.
And me?
I crouched in the shadows like some pathetic slut, my thighs squeezed tightly together.
My pussy was already soaking wet just from watching. My clit pulsed every time she gasped, every time his tongue disappeared between her legs again.
I hated it.
I hated him.
I hated her.
I hated her for getting this side of him.
I hated him for giving it so easily.
But most of all, I hated myself—because I couldn't stop watching.
And I was getting wetter every second.
My hand slipped between my legs without thinking, pressing the lace against my swollen clit. I rubbed slowly in circles while I stared at them, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood just to stop myself from making a sound.
When she finally went limp, panting heavily, Victor lifted his head and pressed a soft kiss to the inside of her thigh.
So gentle.
So careful.
It made my stomach twist painfully.
Then he stood up and pulled her into his arms, kissing her lips like she was something precious.
I stumbled backward from the curtain like my legs had suddenly forgotten how to work.
Tears burned hot down my cheeks.
My pussy still twitched from the ugly orgasm I had just forced out of myself on the floor.
My head spun with everything at once—jealousy, shame, and leftover heat crashing together violently.
I just needed to get back to the guest room.
Before I broke completely.
Before I did something stupid like storm into the kitchen and scream at both of them.
I turned too quickly.
My bare foot caught on something small and hard.
Lily's tiny pink sneaker lay sideways in the middle of the hallway like it had been waiting for me.
I tripped.
My knee slammed into the floor first.
Then my palm hit the tile loudly.
Too loudly.
A sharp gasp came from the kitchen.
Then Elena's startled voice rang out.
"What was that?"
Victor was already moving. I heard his heavy footsteps approaching quickly.
My heart slammed against my throat.
I scrambled to stand, but it was already too late.
He rounded the corner, his robe half-tied, hair messy from Elena's fingers, lips still glossy from her.
Our eyes locked.
He froze mid-step.
I stood there wearing nothing but a black lace thong and bralette, my hair wild from sleep and crying, one knee scraped and red, tears streaking down my face.
I looked like a disaster.
And he saw everything.
The disappointment hit me like a slap.
Not anger.
Not even lust.
Just this deep, hollow ache.
Because just moments ago he had been on his knees for her, giving her everything soft and gentle.
And here I was again.
The messy, broken sister who couldn't stop bleeding into their perfect life.
"Oh… Alyssa," he said quietly.
His voice sounded rough, almost surprised.
Like he hadn't expected the guilt to look this real on me.
I didn't answer.
I just stared back at him.
My chest hurt so badly I could barely breathe.
I wanted to hate him.
I wanted to hate her.
I wanted to disappear.
From the kitchen, Elena called out nervously,
"Anyone there, honey?"
I swallowed hard.
Forced the words out of my throat.
"Yeah… it's me, sis."
There was silence for a second.
Then Elena's quick footsteps approached.
She appeared behind him, pulling her robe tightly around her body, her cheeks flushed from pleasure and embarrassment.
Her eyes widened the moment she saw me standing there half-naked, tears on my face.
"Oh God, Lys…"
She looked horrified.
"I'm so sorry. We didn't hear you come out. Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?"
I nodded stiffly.
"I just… came for water."
My voice was barely a whisper.
It sounded pathetic even to my own ears.
She stepped forward like she wanted to hug me, but then she hesitated and glanced at Victor.
"I feel awful," she said quickly. "We should've… I mean… it's late. We didn't think anyone would be awake."
Her cheeks flushed even deeper.
"I'm sorry, baby sis."
Victor still hadn't moved.
He was still staring at me.
His face was unreadable. His jaw tight, his eyes dark.
Something flickered there—guilt, hunger, anger.
Maybe all three.
I didn't want to know.
Elena tugged gently on his arm.
"Come on… let her get her water."
She looked back at me again, worried.
"Are you okay? Your knee…"
"I'm fine," I muttered.
She nodded awkwardly and hurried back toward their bedroom.
Victor lingered for another second.
His eyes still locked on mine.
Heavy.
Searching.
Like he wanted to say something.
Like he knew that saying anything would only make things worse.
Then he finally turned and followed her.
Their bedroom door clicked shut softly.
I stood there alone in the hallway.
Lily's shoe still tipped over at my feet.
My scraped knee stung.
My thighs were sticky.
And my heart felt like it had been kicked in.
I didn't go for the water anymore.
I just limped back to the guest room, closed the door, and crawled into the bed that still smelled like their laundry detergent—clean, perfect, nothing like me.
I pulled the covers over my head and let the tears come again.
Quiet this time.
No sound.
Because the worst part wasn't that they caught me watching.
The worst part was that even now—after watching him give her everything I had always wanted.
He still looked at me like I was the one thing he couldn't quite let go of.
And I hated how much I still wanted his damn cock.
***
I had already spent a week at the mansion. During those days, I had tried every possible thing to get Victor's attention—but it seemed to fail.
Sometimes, he would almost give in—his eyes dark, his hands brushing mine, a groan caught at the back of his throat—but then he would pull himself together, retreat into that perfect, controlled husband mode.
This wasn't the plan. Things seemed harder than I had thought. Victor was distant, playing the flawless husband behind my sister's back. Every smile for Elena, every polite word, every tender touch for her—it was like a dagger twisting in me.
I was still lost in thought, plotting another way to get Victor onto my bed, when my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I froze.
I almost ignored it. I should have.
"Hello?" I said finally.
"Hi, Alyssa, Robert here, the guy you danced with at the party, remember?."
"Yes?" I said carefully. What is it?.
He paused for a while before speaking.
"I saw you and Victor… in the restroom that night ".
The air thinned immediately and my pulse roared.
"You're mistaken," I said, my voice tight.
"No, i never make mistakes little missy, i think we should talk over coffee today ".
Then he added softly:
"Unless you'd rather I discuss it with your sister."
Ice slid down my spine.
I looked around before lowering my phone speaker.
"What time?" I asked, my fingers trembling around the phone.