The Gala was a disaster. A complete, undeniable mess.
By morning, the entire country was buzzing about what had happened last night. Social media exploded with speculations, twisted versions of the truth spun from Jillian's reckless words. People either hated me or pitied me—there was no in-between. The unwanted wife. That's what they were calling me now. A woman trapped in a marriage that shouldn't exist.
And the worst part? I didn't even know if this mess benefited our company or buried it further.
One thing was clear: fixing my marriage would be anything but easy.
"What's your plan?"
Kaiser's voice pulled me from my thoughts. He was watching me carefully, his gaze steady but unreadable. I noticed he'd been talking to me more than usual, and I appreciated it more than I could ever admit.
The others? They didn't say a damn thing.
Maybe because they knew what I had done to Dos. Maybe Dos told them to stay out of it, to let me handle my own business. Even Lucien—who was usually the first to stick his nose where it didn't belong—had disappeared without a word. No are you okay?, no goodbye. Nothing. What an ass.
As for the girls, they had already left for the Philippines. My brothers made sure of that.
And yes, the truth was out. Everyone now knew I was the Steven and Sebastian's little sister. The shock on their faces had been almost comical, but in the end, none of them dared to question my brothers. Nobody questioned them.
Not unless they wanted to face the consequences.
But me? I was on my own. And for the first time in a long time, I wasn't sure how to fight my way out of this.
"Tell me, Kaiser," I murmured, my voice quieter than I intended. "What's the difference between me as Severa and me as Nine?"
It was a question that had haunted me all night. The answer should have been simple—I used to switch between them so effortlessly. But now, I wasn't sure anymore. I could feel the weight of Dos's words pressing against my chest, but no matter how much I tried to grasp it, the person I used to be felt just out of reach.
Kaiser scoffed, shaking his head. "That's easy," he said. "And honestly? It's about time you asked, because I've been itching to punch you for being this stupid as Severa."
I forced out a weak chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. "Whoa, chill out, Diez! You actually spoke more than ten words."
His glare was sharp, unimpressed. Any trace of humor died between us.
I sighed, surrendering. "Alright," I said, quieter this time. "Tell me."
Kaiser leaned forward, his gaze dark with something unreadable. And for the first time, I braced myself—because I knew whatever he was about to say would cut deeper than I was ready for.
"First things first," Kaiser began, his tone edged with something between disbelief and disappointment. "I didn't realize just how far Severa is from Nine—the Nine I knew."
His words cut deeper than I expected, but his expression remained unreadable, like he was stating an undeniable fact.
"Severa is weak, stupid, and a hopeless case," he continued. "Nine, though—Nine is different. She's serious. Calculated. She knows how to fix things. Nine is the deadliest person I know. But Severa?" He let out a quiet scoff. "A few words from Jillian, and she shatters."
He sat beside me, slipping a small knife from the edge of his shoe. I didn't flinch, didn't stop him as he pressed the blade against my arm and made a shallow cut. A thin line of crimson welled up and trickled down my skin. I should've felt something—pain, anger, anything. But all I felt was the rush of memories crashing into me, fragments of who I used to be resurfacing in sharp, vivid flashes.
"The sight of blood doesn't mean we're in pain," I murmured, almost to myself.
Kaiser didn't hesitate. He dragged the blade across his own skin, mirroring my wound. His voice was quiet, but firm. "But the sight of their blood on our hands means we're done with the pain."
I inhaled sharply, pressing against my wound to stop the bleeding. "Did you really have to do that? We're making a mess."
Kaiser's eyes darkened as he studied me. "This is exactly what I'm talking about." He gestured at me, at my pathetic attempt to clean the wound. "If you were still the same Nine I knew, you wouldn't give a damn about the mess. You wouldn't be cracking jokes to escape the conversation. Isn't this what you wanted? To find yourself again?"
He leaned in slightly, voice dipping lower, taunting.
"To be the ruthless bitch you used to be?"
I was speechless. His words hit me like a blade slicing through bone—precise, unrelenting, and impossible to ignore.
I let out a slow, shaky sigh and turned my gaze away, unable to meet Kaiser's piercing stare. Guilt settled deep in my chest, heavy and suffocating. Because he was right.
I knew exactly why I couldn't go back to being Nine.
Calyx.
The thought of him finding out who I really was—the ruthless, unyielding version of me—terrified me. That's why I always held myself back, always softened my edges when I was with him. In time, I had bent so much that I lost myself completely. I became naive. Weak. Stupid.
Not because I loved him.
But because I was scared.
Scared that if he saw the real me, he would leave.
But I was losing him anyway, wasn't I?
"Give me five hours to think, Kaiser. Then I'll figure everything out," I finally said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me.
He studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Five hours, Nine."
But I didn't need five hours.
I barely needed one.
By the time the clock struck two in the afternoon, I was already on my way home.
I knew exactly where Calyx was. With Jillian. In our house.
How?
Because I activated all my gears. Every single one.
The old me—the real me—never truly let go of control. I had always known that if the time came when I needed to stop being naive, I would be ready.
And now?
Now, I was done pretending.
When I reached my house, I found Jillian lounging on the couch, watching a movie like she owned the place. She was draped in a silk lingerie set that barely covered her, her flawless legs stretched out in the most intentional way possible.
She was so absorbed in whatever bullshit romance she was watching that she didn't even notice me standing there.
I cleared my throat, loud and deliberate.
Her head snapped up, eyes widening in pure shock. She scrambled to her feet, her expression a mix of panic and defiance.
"What are you doing here? You shouldn't be here! You're not allowed to be here!" she stammered, her voice shrill and unsteady.
I arched a brow, my lips curling into a smirk. "Who said I'm not allowed in my own house, bitch?"
"Me!" she snapped, her voice gaining a desperate edge. "Get out!"
Then, out of nowhere, she shoved me.
I barely moved.
I was taller, stronger, and far more dangerous than she could ever imagine. But she didn't know that. She thought I was still the same naive, helpless woman she could toy with.
"Let go!" she shrieked, thrashing like I had her in a death grip when, in reality, I was merely holding her wrists to stop her from making a fool of herself.
Annoyance flared inside me. I had no patience for this.
So I let her go—by pushing her back hard enough that she stumbled.
"Can you stop acting like a child, Jillian? Just stop!" My voice was sharp, edged with exhaustion and something darker.
She opened her mouth, no doubt ready to spew more nonsense, but I didn't give her the chance.
I turned my back on her and walked upstairs.
I had bigger things to deal with.
This moment needed clarity, not chaos.
I found Calyx sitting at the edge of the bed, his head bowed, eyes fixed on his phone. He looked like a complete wreck—still in the same clothes from last night, his hair disheveled, dark circles shadowing his face. He hadn't slept.
A bitter chuckle escaped me. "So, Jillian didn't let you sleep?"
His head snapped up, eyes widening at the sight of me. He stood immediately, as if he had just realized I was real.
"Severa," he breathed my name, his voice raw. Torn. Lonely.
I braced myself for whatever excuse he was about to make. But before he could utter another word, Jillian burst in.
"Why can't you just leave us, Jillian?" I asked, my exhaustion creeping into my voice. This—this entire situation—was draining. I shouldn't have to fight for what was already mine.
Jillian scoffed, crossing her arms. "You're the one who should leave. Calyx doesn't love you at all."
She said it with so much conviction, like she truly believed it, like it was an undeniable fact.
But I didn't look at her. I looked straight at Calyx. And in his eyes, I searched for something—anything—to prove her wrong.
Was I imagining it? Was I lying to myself?
I swallowed the lump in my throat, ignoring the familiar sting in my chest. I forced a smile. "I know."
Jillian's smirk grew, but I wasn't finished.
"You don't have to remind me, Jillian. But it doesn't matter. His reasons for marrying me don't matter. What matters is that he is my husband, and I am his wife. Legally."
Jillian let out a sharp laugh, unaffected. "Are you sure everything is legal?"
I turned to Calyx, my smile never faltering. His jaw clenched. He knew the answer.
"Why don't you ask Calyx himself, Jillian?" I said smoothly. "I can say it's legal, but I know you won't believe me. So let's hear it from him—after all, he's the only one here who truly knows the answer. Right, Calyx?"
Jillian moved closer to him, her voice dropping into something softer, pleading. "No, he can't make it legal. He's in love with me." She reached for him, desperation in her touch. "You still love me, right? You're still in love with me, Calyx?"
I rolled my eyes. Here we go again.
She looked pathetic. And yet, I couldn't understand her deal with Calyx. They broke up years ago. Why was she still here, still chasing him, still acting like she had some claim over him?
But more than that, I was confused about my own marriage to him.
For the longest time, I assumed our marriage was nothing more than a transaction—a show, a convenient arrangement.
Until today.
Because I checked. And I found out the truth.
Our marriage wasn't just legal. It was real.
No loopholes. No technicalities. No easy way out.
And that was all the reason I needed to fight for it.
"Yes, Jillian," Calyx finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I still love you."
I gasped.
I already knew it. I always knew it. But hearing it from him—having it confirmed in the cold, unshaken way he said it—felt like a knife to the gut.
"But our marriage is legal," he continued. "She is my wife."
That should have been enough.
But I knew now more than ever—keeping this marriage intact wouldn't be easy.
Not when I was the only one in love.