Matthew walked out of Helena's apartment with a confident smirk, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his tailored trousers. The morning sunlight filtered through the thin clouds, casting a golden glow on his sharp features. His chiselled jawline, perfectly combed hair, and piercing green eyes made him every bit as breathtaking as the man Helena had once fallen for. Today, he wore a crisp navy-blue suit that hugged his athletic frame, the perfect contrast to his white shirt unbuttoned just enough to exude an air of effortless charm.
As he descended the stairs of the modest apartment complex, he exuded an aura of authority and self-assurance that turned heads wherever he went. Matthew Martins wasn't just another wealthy bachelor—he was the heir to the largest conglomerate in the city, Martel Industries. His father, Martel Martins, was a business titan, a name that carried weight and demanded respect. And Matthew? He was the golden child, the son who had been handed control of one of the company's most lucrative branches—a luxury real estate firm—when he was just twenty-three.
He wasn't merely favored; he was practically worshipped within the family, especially after his elder brother disappeared.
His thoughts drifted to his brother as he approached the curb, where his sleek black Aston Martin was parked. Matthew wasn't entirely sure what had happened back then. All he knew was that when he was eighteen, there had been a heated argument between his father and his older brother, followed by his brother's sudden departure. Rumors swirled within the family—some said Martel had kicked him out, while others whispered that he'd left on his own accord. Either way, his brother hadn't returned, not once in seven years.
Matthew shook off the thought as he reached his car. With a flick of his wrist, he unlocked it, the faint beep echoing in the still morning. The car gleamed under the sunlight, an emblem of his status and power. He opened the driver's side door and slid into the plush leather seat, inhaling the familiar scent of luxury.
Inside, waiting for him, was Hazel.
Helena's twin sister.
She was leaning against the passenger seat, her manicured fingers tapping idly on the screen of her phone. When Matthew entered, her head turned, and a sly smile spread across her lips. She set the phone down on her lap, her blue eyes sparkling as she gazed at him.
"How did it go with her?" Hazel asked, her tone sweet but laced with curiosity.
Matthew adjusted the rearview mirror, his smirk widening. "She's not going to say a damn thing about what happened last night."
Hazel's smile deepened. She tucked a strand of her perfectly styled blonde hair behind her ear and leaned closer to him. "I told you she wouldn't. She's too scared to make waves." Her voice was soft, almost seductive, and she placed a hand lightly on his arm. "You don't have to worry about her."
"I'm not worried," Matthew replied, turning to face her. "Helena's predictable. She won't risk embarrassing her family. She'll do exactly what she's told, like always."
Hazel tilted her head, her lips curving upward. "You're so confident. It's one of the things I love about you."
Matthew's gaze lingered on her for a moment, but before he could reply, a sudden ringtone interrupted the moment. Hazel's phone buzzed loudly on her lap, and Matthew's eyes instinctively flicked to the screen.
The caller ID was clear as day. The mane on it was Ethan, and it was saved with a love emoji.
Matthew's jaw tightened ever so slightly, though his face remained composed. Hazel, however, quickly picked up the phone and silenced it, her movements hurried and almost nervous.
"Who's that?" Matthew asked, his tone casual, but his green eyes sharp as they bore into her.
Hazel smiled, her expression almost too perfect, too rehearsed. "Oh, just the gym manager. Remember? I told you I wanted to sign up for a membership at that new fitness center downtown."
Matthew frowned slightly, then leaned back in his seat, thinking. Now that she mentioned it, he did vaguely recall her saying something about a gym. After a moment, he shrugged. "You should've picked up the call. No need to ignore it because of me."
Hazel shook her head, her smile widening as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "It would've been disrespectful to answer while we're talking. You're more important."
The tension in Matthew's shoulders eased, and he allowed himself a smile. "That's what I like about you, Hazel. You respect me—unlike your stupid twin sister."
Hazel chuckled, her laughter light and melodic. She shifted closer to him, her hand resting lightly on his knee. "Speaking of Helena," she said, her tone turning slightly more serious, "are you still planning to go through with the wedding?"
Matthew's smile faded slightly as he sighed. He glanced at the dashboard, avoiding her gaze for a moment. "You know I don't want to," he admitted. "But I have to. For the sake of both our families."
Hazel's brow furrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. "So you're going to marry her even after everything? Even after last night?"
"Don't worry," Matthew said, his tone firm as he reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I'll divorce her once the business agreement between our families is finalized. And when that's over, I'll marry you."
Hazel's expression softened, and a slow smile spread across her face. "You promise?"
Matthew leaned closer, brushing his lips against hers in a kiss that was both possessive and reassuring. When he pulled back, he smirked. "Of course. Helena's just a placeholder. You're the one I want, Hazel."
Hazel beamed, her cheeks flushing slightly as she leaned back in her seat. She picked up her phone again, glancing at the screen briefly before setting it aside. "Good," she said, her voice soft. "Because I can't stand sharing you with anyone. Especially not her."
Matthew started the car, the engine roaring to life. "You won't have to for much longer," he said, his voice steady, confident.
As the car sped off, Hazel placed her hand over his, her smile never faltering. But deep down, something about her expression seemed calculated, as if there were layers to her thoughts that even Matthew couldn't decipher.
Back in Helena's apartment, the stillness of the room was suffocating. She remained slumped on the floor for several moments, her body numb, her heart aching as though it had been shattered into a thousand irreparable pieces. The weight of Matthew's words still lingered in the air, each one cutting deeper than the last.
Finally, with trembling legs, Helena forced herself to stand. Her knees wobbled slightly, but she steadied herself against the couch before dragging her feet toward her bedroom. She pushed the door open and walked inside, the familiar space offering no comfort, only a cruel reminder of the life she had shared with the man who had so effortlessly torn her apart.
She stopped in front of the mirror above her dresser, her reflection staring back at her. For a long moment, she didn't recognize the woman she saw. Her face was pale, her cheeks streaked with the remnants of dried tears. Her usually bright eyes were dull and rimmed with red. Strands of her dark hair clung to her damp cheeks, messy and unkempt. She looked rough, broken, a mere shadow of the woman she used to be.
Helena reached up and touched her face, her fingers trembling as she traced the curve of her cheek. The image of herself blurred as tears filled her eyes once more. She bit her lip, trying to suppress the emotions rising within her, but it was useless.
And then, like a storm breaking loose, the memory crashed over her again.
Matthew. Hazel.
Their bodies tangled together.
The sounds. The betrayal.
It all replayed in her mind like a vivid, haunting nightmare.
A scream tore from her throat, raw and filled with anguish. She grabbed a perfume bottle from the dresser and hurled it across the room. It shattered against the wall, sending shards of glass flying. But it wasn't enough. The pain in her chest was suffocating, unbearable. She began swiping everything off the dresser—makeup, jewelry, books—sending them clattering to the floor.
She moved to the nightstand, kicking it over with all the strength she had left. The lamp toppled, smashing into pieces on the ground. Her breaths were ragged, her chest heaving as she kicked and pushed anything in her path. It was as though the destruction around her was the only way to release the devastation inside her.
But when the room was in complete disarray, and there was nothing left to destroy, she sank to her knees, her head falling into her hands. A sob escaped her lips, followed by another and another, until the tears were pouring freely once again.
Helena forced herself to her feet and stumbled toward the bathroom. She opened the door, the cool tiles beneath her feet grounding her momentarily. Without thinking, she began undressing, peeling off the simple t-shirt and sweatpants she had thrown on earlier. The clothes fell to the floor in a heap as she stepped into the jacuzzi.
She turned on the water, letting it fill the tub slowly. The warm water enveloped her, soothing her aching muscles, but it did nothing for the turmoil in her chest. She sank deeper, until only her face remained above the surface. Her hair fanned out around her, dark and wet, as she leaned her head back against the edge of the tub.
The tears didn't stop.
She wrapped her arms around herself, her body shaking with sobs. "Why, Matthew?" she whispered to the empty room, her voice barely audible over the gentle hum of the water. "Why would you do this to me?"
Helena closed her eyes, but the image of him with Hazel burned into her mind. It wasn't just the betrayal that hurt—it was the love she still felt for him. The love that refused to die, even after everything he had done.
She had been so in love with Matthew. From the moment they met as children, she had believed he was her soulmate. He had been her first love, her first everything. She had given him her heart, trusted him implicitly.
And now, that same heart felt as though it had been ripped from her chest and stomped on.
The tears came harder, the sobs wracking her body as she clung to the edge of the tub. She couldn't understand it—how could someone she loved so deeply, someone she had planned to spend her life with, betray her in such a cruel, heartless way?
The water around her rippled as she shifted, pulling her knees to her chest. She buried her face in her arms, the warm water doing little to soothe the cold emptiness inside her.
For what felt like hours, Helena stayed in the tub, letting the water mix with her tears. Her body ached, her heart felt like it was breaking all over again with every memory that surfaced.
She wanted to scream, to cry, to destroy everything in her path. But more than anything, she wanted the pain to stop.
But it didn't. It only grew stronger, and it served as a reminder of the love she still couldn't let go of, even though it was killing her.