Chapter 2: Into the Lion’s Den

A moment ago, I’d half-believed, half-doubted the chat bubbles.

It was easy to dismiss them as hallucinations—a side effect of the spiked wine. But now, their cruel predictions echoed in real life, word for word.

But hearing Caleb say those cruel words with my own ears, my eyes stung and my heart twisted painfully.

I blinked back tears, but they threatened to spill over, blurring the backyard lights into halos.

The drug’s effects surged, leaving me breathless.

My body ached with the urge to run—to anywhere but here—but my legs felt like rubber. I pressed a shaking hand to my chest, counting heartbeats.

I couldn’t go to Caleb.

The realization was sharp and cold, like jumping into a pool at midnight. I was on my own.

Should I really go beg that person?

I hesitated, the memory of his icy gaze making my palms sweat. But there was nowhere else to turn.

He was my distant cousin, the current state senator—born into privilege, cold as ice, never bowing to anyone.

Senator Evan Carter—he was always in control, even as a kid. He’d grown up into a man who made headlines, the kind who could silence a room just by walking in. There was always a security detail lingering nearby, even at family events.

Every time I saw him, his sharp, intimidating presence made me lower my head, only daring to softly call him, "Evan..."

It was like I was ten again, asking for help with homework, hoping he’d be patient. He rarely looked up from his laptop or his phone.

He never replied.

His silences were heavy, but I always told myself he was just busy—too important for small talk.

Evan Carter—cold as a blizzard on a mountaintop.

A family legend, even at Thanksgiving when the cousins would sneak outside to throw a football, and he’d just watch from the porch, unreadable.

Would he really, as the chat bubbles said, cry every night calling my name...?

It was ridiculous. The idea of Evan—flawless, unflappable—falling apart over me was pure fantasy.

My ears burned at the thought.

My cheeks were on fire too. I ducked my head and tried to breathe through it, willing myself to get a grip.

My blood felt like hot oil on a grill, making my bones itch.

I raked my nails across my arm, desperate for any kind of relief. The itching only got worse.

I steeled myself and turned to leave.

I didn’t let myself hesitate. It was now or never.

But my foot snapped a dead branch, the sound cutting through the trees and interrupting their conversation.

The sharp crack echoed in the stillness. For a second, nobody moved.

"Who’s there?" Caleb called sharply.

His voice was all suspicion now—no trace of the soft boy I once knew. Lillian’s head whipped around, her eyes wide in the moonlight.

My cheeks burned, and I could feel the stares from the open windows behind me. I wanted to shrink down to the size of my shoes.

When Caleb saw it was me, his brows drew together, his lips curling into a sneer:

He looked me up and down, irritation written all over his face. He didn’t even try to hide it from Lillian.

"Melissa, do you have to be so clingy? The second I leave you alone, you come chasing after me?"

He spat out the words like gum he’d been forced to chew for too long. Lillian pressed her lips together, suddenly uncomfortable.

His face darkened. "Can’t I even talk to Lillian? You’re so jealous and possessive, no one would ever want to marry you."

His words were cold, almost rehearsed. I wondered how many times he’d thought about saying them.

When I opened my mouth, my voice was so hoarse it was barely audible: "It’s not that, I... I don’t feel well. I didn’t mean to chase after you."

My lips barely moved. I sounded pitiful, even to myself. The words hung in the chilly air between us.

Lillian spoke gently, "Let it go, Melissa isn’t feeling well. Caleb, you should take care of her first."

She put a reassuring hand on my arm, her touch soft. I caught a whiff of her lavender lotion—something I’d always associated with comfort, but now it made my stomach twist.

But Caleb just scoffed:

He rolled his eyes, as if this was all some embarrassing sitcom scene.

"Melissa, quit faking it! Can’t you come up with something new? Every time another girl is near me, you cause a scene... Last time you lost your Apple Watch, now you’re ‘not feeling well’ again?"

He made air quotes, mocking me. I felt the sting of embarrassment, sure that everyone inside could hear every word.

Caleb strode over and grabbed my wrist roughly. But as soon as his hand touched my skin, he froze, frowning:

His grip went slack, and he stared at me like I’d just grown a second head.

"Why are you so hot? Did you catch a fever or something?"

He pressed the back of his hand to my forehead, like checking for a kid’s temperature. But his eyes were wary, not concerned.

The scent of Caleb made me nearly lose control, my knees buckling as I fell against him.

His cologne—a cheap body spray, all citrus and pine—made my head spin. I squeezed my eyes shut and dug my nails into my palm.

I’d held on too long. The drug’s effects intensified, like ants crawling through my veins.

I gritted my teeth, willing myself not to collapse. The sensation was unbearable—like I was being eaten alive from the inside out.

Just then, chat bubbles flashed again:

[No, no, girl, don’t let him touch you. If you fall for this jerk, your life’s over.]

[He’ll enjoy it now but later claim you seduced him. When the crazy couple reunites years later, you’ll be kicked out of the Carter house, making way for the leading lady, and die sick and alone on the street.]

[After you die, your sharp-tongued cousin won’t say a word, just follows you in death. Why can’t you two be together and save everyone from more pain?]

The words spun in the air, faster and brighter than before. I wanted to scream at them to go away, but they just kept coming.

I stared at the words flickering in the air.

I wondered if anyone else could see them, or if I was truly losing my mind.

In the end, that cold, proud, all-powerful Evan Carter would actually follow me in death?

The thought was so outlandish it almost made me laugh—if I hadn’t been on the verge of tears.

---

Caleb tried to lift me by the waist.

He reached for me, but his hands shook. He didn’t know what to do with someone who wasn’t fawning over him for once.

I cried out, "Don’t touch me! I’m not feeling bad anymore!"

I shoved at his chest, panic and embarrassment knotting in my stomach. The words burst out of me, wild and desperate.

Caleb scowled, annoyed. "Melissa, what’s your deal? Is it fun to mess with people? So you were just faking being sick for attention."

He glared down at me, his jaw clenched tight. I could tell he wanted to walk away, but pride wouldn’t let him.

He sneered, "Melissa, when will you finally grow up and be as calm and steady as Lillian?"

He gestured toward Lillian as if she were the gold standard, the “right” kind of girl. I hated that it almost worked—I wished I could disappear.

I clenched my palm so tightly it drew blood.

A crescent of red blossomed under my fingernail. The pain was grounding, even as my body begged for something more.

My lips were covered in tiny teeth marks. I didn’t dare make a sound, afraid any noise would turn into a moan.

I pressed my mouth shut, the copper taste of blood a sharp reminder not to break down in front of them.

Caleb left me there.

He walked off, not looking back. Lillian hesitated, but followed him, her heels crunching the gravel.

---

I made my way to the guest room where Senator Evan Carter was staying.

Every step up the stairs felt like wading through molasses. I could hear my heartbeat thumping in my ears, louder than the music downstairs. I moved on autopilot, half-leaning against the banister as I climbed the back stairs. My mind was a mess of regret, fear, and longing.

My fingertips trembled as I knocked on his door.

I wiped my hands on my dress, hoping to seem composed. The knocking was too soft at first; I forced myself to try again, louder.

I waited so long I nearly lost control, about to burst in.

I pressed my forehead to the cool wood, barely holding myself together. My breath fogged up the lacquered surface.

At last, a pair of slender, strong hands pulled open the door.

The door swung open with a soft click. For a moment, I thought I might faint.

"Melissa? You sure you’re at the right room? This isn’t the Carter place, you know."

His voice was so American and familiar—cool, a little teasing, but edged with concern. He was always like this—buttoned up and guarded, never letting anything slip.

Just hearing him snapped me out of my daze. The familiar chill in his tone was oddly comforting—reliable, even when nothing else made sense.

For a moment, the heat inside me was doused—only to flare up even more fiercely.

My skin prickled, as if my body remembered every time I’d wanted him to look at me, just once, like I mattered.

The chat bubbles boiled over:

[He cares so much. Every day you don’t come, he secretly cries into his pillow at night. Then he writes Caleb’s name on the sole of his shoe and stomps hard.]

[Don’t be fooled by his poker face—he’s actually a softie...]

[Every time you call him Evan, his fingers tremble. Later, when you whisper his name, he’ll be in heaven.]

I almost laughed. I wanted to tell the bubbles to knock it off, but I couldn’t look away.

The chat bubbles flickered endlessly.

It was like having a peanut gallery in my brain, refusing to shut up.

My eyes were already red and blurry; all I could see was the dignified Evan Carter.

He looked impossibly tall in the doorway, even barefoot, framed by the dim light of a guestroom lamp behind him.

He stood before me in simple white pajamas, his collarbone elegant and defined.

The pajama top was unbuttoned at the throat, revealing just enough to make my breath catch. I tried not to stare, but it was impossible.

His dark hair was tousled, and his whole body carried a subtle scent of aftershave and fresh laundry.

It was the clean, expensive kind—like walking into an upscale men’s store at the mall. Underneath, there was a trace of something uniquely his.

It made me want to pull him down from his pedestal, drag him into the real world, and claim him as mine.

For once, I wanted to be the one with power—the one who could make him lose his composure.

I wanted to see his eyes redden, to watch him shed tears he couldn’t hold back.

I imagined the mask slipping, just for me. The thought sent a new wave of heat through me, sharp and needy.

My gaze slid from his collarbone to his slender waist, then even lower…

I snapped my eyes back up, ashamed. I’d never let myself look before—not really. Now, I couldn’t stop.