Part 3Two Brothers One Perfect Life

The hospital corridor descended into chaos.

Pierce was knocked out cold with a single, furious punch.

Cas sat nearby, sobbing uncontrollably.

I watched the dramatic scene unfold from a sheltered alcove for a long time before reluctantly walking away.

I spent the rest of the day on a five-million-dollar shopping spree, returning home only after dark.

As I stepped out of the elevator, I saw Pierce standing at my door like a vengeful ghost.

He was covered in bruises and resentment. Gone was the cool, self-possessed corporate shark.

“Sasha Holloway! You need to go back and explain things to Cas right now!”

I opened the door to my apartment and innocently asked, “Explain what?”

Pierce's brows furrowed. His expression was pure disgust.

“You know damn well! Stop playing dumb with me! Caspian thinks I stole you! He thinks I made him fake amnesia so you could ditch him and walk into my life! He’s armed and blocking my driveway like a maniac!”

I hummed a tune and ignored his tirade.

I dumped my afternoon purchases onto the bed, covering the duvet with piles of expensive, barely-there clothes. I held up a sheer, white lace negligee against myself for inspection.

“Would this look good on me?” I asked Pierce.

His face turned an even deeper shade of green. He turned away, refusing to look at me, his teeth practically grinding.

“Only a blind idiot like Caspian would find you attractive. I’d rather be celibate for the rest of my life than be with a toxic, malicious woman like you.”

The moment the words left his mouth, a knock sounded at the door.

“Sasha, are you home?” It was Cas.

Pierce’s composure shattered. He stared at the door, panicked, and made to rush toward me.

“Don’t open it!” he hissed.

Cas already thought we were having an affair. If he found Pierce in my apartment late at night, especially after all the hospital drama, no explanation would save him.

I rolled my eyes.

“He called out my name, which means he knows I’m in here. If I don’t open the door, it’ll look even worse.”

I grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the bedroom closet.

“Why don’t you hide in here for a while?”

Pierce looked utterly defeated.

But after a moment of desperate thought, he realized he had no choice. He took a deep, resigning breath and reluctantly squeezed himself into the walk-in closet.

I turned and opened the door for Cas.

Cas, tall and large, stood slumped outside. His head was down, and the corners of his eyes were still slightly red.

I reached out and lightly stroked his cheek. “What’s this? Were you crying?”

The tears Cas had been fighting finally broke through. Hot, wet tears soaked into my hand. His sense of injury and injustice was like a floodgate opening.

He was the one who agreed to fake the amnesia. He was the one who pretended not to know me this morning. Now, no matter how much injustice he felt, he had to swallow it.

“My brother… he won’t let me back in the house. He kicked me out. I have nowhere to go.”

Pierce, crammed in the closet after being hunted all afternoon, likely had a stroke.

Cas grabbed my hand and buried his face in my palm, rubbing against me like a lost puppy.

“Fiancée, can you let me crash here for the night? The sofa is fine. I promise I won’t be any trouble.”

I nodded sympathetically.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Pierce: “?!”

Cas stepped inside, swapping his shoes, and immediately his eyes fell on the array of expensive, revealing lingerie scattered on the bed.

His expression twisted into something momentarily feral.

I followed his gaze, then offered a shy, suggestive smile.

“Your brother bought them. Said he wanted to ‘celebrate’ tonight…”

I stopped my sentence abruptly, as if realizing I’d said too much. I lowered my voice to a suggestive whisper.

“Your brother is always buying these useless, racy things. He never listens.”

Inside the closet, Pierce was silently staring at the ceiling, likely attempting to hang himself with a coat hanger.

I quickly scooped up the pile of clothes, opened the closet door, and tossed them inside. The sheer white negligee landed squarely on Pierce’s face.

Pierce was already mentally dead the moment I opened the door. He pressed his palms together, a picture of helpless, silent begging.

Cas stood right by the closet door, separated from Pierce by a thin sheet of wood, and spoke to me.

“Will my brother be coming back tonight?”

I shook my head. “I have no idea. Why don’t you call him and ask?”

Pierce’s eyes widened in terror.

Cas took out his phone and dialed Pierce’s number.

The next second, Pierce’s ringtone—a custom, jarring corporate chime—blared inside the closet.

Cas’s eyes narrowed dangerously, fixed on the wardrobe.

“Fiancée, I think my brother’s phone is ringing.”