"He thinks I'm you?" I rasped, my voice trembling.
A chill swept the room. I eyed the door, half-expecting someone to kick it down.
Zyran's expression hardened. He snatched his phone and punched in a number.
"Security," he barked. "Lockdown. I want four guards at my wife’s door immediately, and sweep the lot."
He hung up and faced Mina. She was violently shivering, hugging herself.
"Sit down, Mina," Zyran ordered gently. "He won't touch her, and he won't touch you."
"I'm so sorry, Zyran," Mina sobbed. "I never meant to drag your family into this mess. I should just leave. Let him find me."
"Don't be ridiculous," Zyran chided, squeezing her shoulder. "You aren't going anywhere. You're family."
I stared at him, bewildered. "Family?"
Zyran met my gaze, his eyes grave. "Roosevelt, I didn’t have time to explain earlier. Mina isn’t just a college friend. We grew up on the same block. She's known me since I was five."
He shot Mina a protective glance. "She used to play with my older sister, Clara. My mother loves Mina like a daughter. If anything happened to her, my mother would never forgive me."
A hollow ache bloomed in my chest. I knew Zyran's mother was ruthless. She rarely even smiled at me. But she loved Mina?
"I had no idea," I whispered.
"There’s a lot you don’t know," Zyran sighed, sounding exhausted. "But I promised my family I would always look out for her. I keep my promises."
Suddenly, a commotion echoed from the corridor.
"Move! Get out of my way!" a feminine voice shrieked.
The door banged open. A woman with crimson hair stormed in, wearing mismatched sneakers and an oversized coat.
It was Nixie, my best friend.
"Roosevelt!" Nixie yelled. Ignoring Zyran, she sprinted to my bed and cupped my face. "I saw the news! Someone posted a picture of Zyran carrying you into the ER! Are you okay? Tell me you're okay!"
"I'm fine, Nix." I managed a weak smile. Her presence instantly grounded me. "It was just... a fall."
Nixie exhaled sharply, crushing me in a hug. Then she pulled back, shooting a lethal glare at Zyran.
"You!" she spat, jabbing a finger toward his chest. "You're supposed to protect her, Mr. Billionaire! How does she fall down the stairs on your anniversary?"
Zyran crossed his arms. "It was an accident, Nixie. Keep your voice down."
Nixie's eyes narrowed. She glanced past Zyran and spotted Mina cowering in the corner, looking pathetic in her ruined dress.
"Who's the stray?" Nixie demanded bluntly.
"This is Mina," Zyran intercepted, shielding Mina from Nixie's view. "She’s a guest. She’s had a rough night."
Nixie appraised Mina. Nixie had a sixth sense for bullshit, and her eyes instantly narrowed.
"Mina," Nixie drawled slowly, "why are you wearing Roosevelt's robe?"
Mina flinched, looking up at Zyran with huge, teary eyes. "My clothes burned. Zyran gave it to me."
"Nixie, drop it," I pleaded softly. I didn’t have the energy for a brawl. "Mina is in danger. Her ex is hunting her."
"And now he's targeting Roosevelt," Zyran added grimly.
Nixie's face drained of color. She looked at me, then the door. "Wait. You’re telling me that because of her drama, my best friend has a target on her back?"
"I'm handling it," Zyran stated. "I'm relocating both of them to the safe house tonight. It's an absolute fortress."
"The safe house?" I echoed. "But Zyran, I just want to go home."
"Home isn’t secure, Roosevelt," Zyran replied firmly. "That address is public. The safe house is our only option."
He strode to the window, peering through the blinds. His spine suddenly went rigid.
"Damn it," Zyran swore.
"What?" I asked, my pulse spiking.
Zyran turned. His face was pure stone.
"Security just radioed," he said. "A black van rammed the hospital gate. Masked men are spilling out."
He looked at me, then at Mina.
"He's here."
The terror was short-lived.
Zyran’s security detail was ruthless. Before the masked thugs even breached the lobby, five black SUVs boxed them in. We watched from the window as sirens flooded the lot. Mina’s ex was cuffed and thrown into a cruiser within ten minutes.
"It’s over," Zyran declared, snapping the blinds shut. "He’s going away for a long time. You're safe."
Mina sobbed with relief, but I just felt hollow. I wanted my own bed. Instead, Zyran transported us to his safe house—a cavernous mansion on the city's edge. It looked cold and impenetrable.
By the time we settled, it was past midnight. Nixie retreated to a guestroom to call her husband, leaving me alone with Zyran and Mina in the kitchen.
My ankle throbbed, and my abdomen felt uncomfortably tight. I perched on a barstool, watching Zyran. He had ditched his jacket and was rolling up his sleeves. He opened the fridge, pulling out eggs and vegetables.
"I'll whip up something simple," Zyran murmured, glancing my way. "You need food in your stomach before taking your meds, Roosevelt."
A flicker of warmth bloomed in my chest. "Thank you, Zyran. You don’t have to—"
"Zyran!"
Mina’s shrill voice sliced through the moment. She pranced into the kitchen, wearing fresh loungewear the housekeeper had provided. She spotted Zyran holding a skillet and gasped, utterly horrified.
"Why are you cooking, Zyran?" she admonished, strutting over to pry the pan from his grip. "Cooking is domestic work. It’s beneath you."
I blinked, floored. Was she serious?
Mina blatantly ignored me. She zeroed in on Zyran, her voice dripping with honey. "You see, I've had a traumatic day. I'm so exhausted I can barely stand, or else I'd cook for you. But you're a CEO. Running an empire is grueling. You deserve to rest."
She finally pivoted and glared at me. Her eyes were glacial, but she kept her tone sickeningly sweet for Zyran’s benefit.
"Roosevelt should cook," Mina declared, gesturing at me. "She seemed incredibly energetic when she tried to fight me on the stairs earlier. She should channel that energy into making dinner. Besides, isn’t she an interior designer? She’s practically a maid. She knows how to serve."
I was paralyzed. My jaw literally dropped. I had nearly miscarried my baby tonight. I could barely put weight on my swollen ankle. And this parasite wanted me to serve her?
Zyran went rigid. He slammed the pan onto the marble counter with a resounding thud.
"She didn’t ask me to cook, Mina," Zyran growled, his tone dangerously low. "I offered. She is my wife. Watch your mouth."
A wave of vindication washed over me. At least he defended me this time.
But Mina didn’t back down. She looked devastated, acting as if Zyran had physically struck her. Tears instantly pooled in her eyes.
"You’ve changed, Zyran," she wept. "This isn’t you. What has that woman done to you?"
She closed the distance between them, icing me out completely.
"What were you thinking when you married someone as cold as Roosevelt?" Mina sniffled. "She's heartless. Didn’t you notice how little she cared about me losing my home tonight? She wanted to dump me at a hotel! She’s totally ruthless."
"Mina..." Zyran warned.
"I’m just being honest!" Mina sobbed. "Given her own rough past, she shouldn't interfere with us. Remember how we used to be? You were never this soft. You were a king."
She reached out, pressing her petite palm flat against Zyran’s chest, directly over his heart.
"Let me cook," she whispered. "I might be exhausted, but I refuse to let a King slave in the kitchen while his wife just sits there like a statue."
Zyran stared at her hand on his chest. Then, his gaze flicked to me.
I waited for him to shove her away. I waited for him to throw her out.
Instead, Zyran exhaled heavily. He gently peeled Mina’s hand off his chest, but the anger had vanished from his features. He just looked conflicted.
"Go to bed, Mina," he murmured softly. "I'll bring a tray up to your room."
Mina flashed a victorious smirk at me over Zyran’s shoulder. It was a fleeting, toxic gloat before she turned back to him, nodding demurely.
"Okay, Zyran. But only because you asked," she purred.
She spun on her heel and glided out of the kitchen, leaving a suffocating silence in her wake.
Zyran retrieved the skillet and cracked an egg against the rim. He refused to meet my eyes.
"She's just stressed," he muttered, sounding like he was trying to convince himself.
I gripped the edge of the marble counter until my knuckles turned white. He was still making excuses for her.
"Zyran," I stated quietly. "We need to talk."
"Not tonight, Roosevelt," he deflected. "I'm exhausted. Let’s just eat."
He plated the food and slid a dish across the island. But just as I picked up my fork, my phone vibrated in my pocket.
It was a text from an unknown number.
I opened it, and my blood turned to ice. It was a vintage photo of Zyran and Mina, looking sickeningly in love.
Underneath, a caption read:
He promised his mother he would take care of me. Do you really think a 'wife' can break a promise made to family? Enjoy the eggs. I’ll enjoy him later.