#forced dependency

The low hum of the factory machinery buzzed in my ears as I sat in the breakroom, staring at the sad sandwich I’d slapped together this morning. How did I end up here? After years of hard work and late-night study sessions, my Finance degree didn’t seem to mean anything anymore. Instead of crunching numbers and living the life I’d dreamed of, I was here—packaging cardboard boxes and watching my future slip away.

I glanced down at my phone, a knot forming in my throat. Rent was coming up in two weeks, and I had no idea how I was going to scrape the money together. The thought of moving back in with my parents twisted my stomach in knots. No way could I go back to their judgmental looks, the snide remarks about my life choices, or their constant need to belittle everything I’ve done. I'd rather sleep on a park bench than deal with that.

My phone buzzed on the table, jolting me from my thoughts. I looked down at the screen and felt my heart sink a little deeper.

Sharon.

Of all the people who could be reaching out, she was the last person I expected—or wanted—to hear from. We hadn’t spoken since graduation, and that was by design. Things between us hadn’t ended well, and the fact that she was contacting me now couldn’t mean anything good.

With a sigh, I swiped to answer. "Hello?"

"Wow, you actually picked up," Sharon's voice dripped with that same smugness that always made me grit my teeth. "I wasn’t sure if you were still alive."

I rolled my eyes, immediately regretting answering. "Yeah, still kicking. How are you?" I shot back, not even trying to hide my sarcasm.

"Fabulous, of course." Her voice was so sugary sweet it made my stomach churn. "Anyway, I’ll get to the point. A few of us are going on a trip—Maldives. One-month private villa. You should come."

I blinked, trying to process what she’d just said. A month-long vacation in the Maldives? Out of nowhere?

"Uh… I don’t think I can," I muttered, the discomfort rising up my spine. "I’m working right now, and I can’t afford a trip like that."

There was a brief silence, followed by Sharon’s familiar, annoyed huff. "Steve’s paying for everything, so don’t worry about that."

As if money was the only issue. I shook my head, feeling my frustration rise. "It’s not just about money. I can’t take off from work for two months."

"Why not?" she snapped, sounding genuinely confused, like the concept of having to work to survive was foreign to her. "Just quit."

I almost laughed at how ridiculous she sounded. "I can’t just quit, Sharon. I need this job. Some of us actually have bills to pay."

"Whatever," she sighed, clearly losing interest. "Look, if you change your mind, you’ve got three months to figure it out. We’re leaving in July."

I clenched my jaw, fighting back a smart remark. "I’ll let you know."

And with that, she hung up.

I stared at the phone, my mind spinning. Why now? Why was Sharon suddenly interested in inviting me on this extravagant trip after all this time? After everything that happened?

Shoving the phone back into my pocket, I shook off the nagging feeling. Whatever she and her clique were up to, I wasn’t about to fall for it. Not this time.

I had more pressing things to worry about—like making it through the rest of my shift without falling apart.

***

Three weeks after Sharon’s call, I found myself standing in the manager’s office, trying to make sense of the words coming out of her mouth.

“Budget cuts,” Diane said flatly, as if that explained everything.

“But I’m the only one being fired,” I pointed out, confusion mixing with anger. “How does that make sense?”

Diane shrugged, clearly uninterested. “It’s just how things are.”

I knew better than to push back too much, but it still gnawed at me. Budget cuts? No way. This factory wasn’t exactly rolling in dough, but I’d seen plenty of new hires lately. So why me?

As I walked out of her office, I thought back to the time I’d corrected Diane on… well, something trivial. She’d been going on about a new process we had to follow, and I’d pointed out a mistake in her instructions. It wasn’t even that big of a deal. I remembered she’d gone all red in the face, tight-lipped, and I could tell she didn’t appreciate being corrected, but it seemed like she was over it.

Did she have something to do with this? It didn’t make sense. I was practically invisible at the factory. Why would she care?

Still, it stung. Whatever the real reason, I was out of a job.

A few weeks later, my luck hadn’t changed. I spent every waking moment job hunting, praying something would come through before the end of the month. But it didn’t.

When it became clear I couldn’t afford my rent anymore, I had to make a decision: drown in debt or swallow my pride and move back in with my parents.

I hated the idea. But bills were piling up, and the pressure was too much, so I chose my parents.

The moment I walked through the door with my boxes, my mom took it upon herself to help me unpack—which, of course, meant a nonstop commentary on all the poor decisions I’d made in life.

“I told you this would happen,” she said, folding one of my shirts with military precision. “You never listen. You should have stayed closer to home, gone into something practical. But no, you wanted to follow your dreams.”

I clenched my jaw, biting back the urge to snap. It was always the same speech: how I should’ve done this, should’ve done that. As if I didn’t feel bad enough already. But I stayed quiet, nodding along while she reminded me just how incapable I was.

I’d been living with my parents for a month and a half now, and I was at my breaking point. Their constant nagging, the tension, the way they hovered over me—it was driving me insane. I needed out.

One week before Sharon and the girls were set to leave for the Maldives, I caved. Desperation took over, and I found myself texting Sharon, asking if there was still space for me on the trip.

Honestly, I didn’t expect her to respond. But then, there it was: a yes. Along with a list of things to pack and an address of where to meet them.

I stared at my phone in disbelief for a second. I was actually going to do this. Anything to get away from my parents.

When I told them about the trip, their reaction was immediate approval. Of course, the second they heard Sharon and Steve would be there, they were practically pushing me out the door.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” my mom beamed. “Sharon’s such a successful young woman. You should really try to get back on her good side.”

I rolled my eyes. Of course they loved Sharon. She was everything they wanted me to be—successful, put together, and always in the right circles. And Steve? They practically worshiped the guy. The heir to a tech empire. Who wouldn’t?

“Just make sure there’s no more falling outs this time,” my dad added, like I’d ever intentionally ruined things with Sharon.

I remembered the first time I told them about our fallout. They acted like I’d told them I was addicted to drugs, and they never really forgave me for it.

Now, it seemed I was being given a second chance to make everything “right.”

And honestly? I wasn’t sure I wanted to, but at this point, I’d do anything to get away from here.

***

I couldn’t shake the feeling that this whole trip might be some elaborate prank. I half-expected to show up and find a hidden camera crew waiting to embarrass me. But here I was, standing in front of a private jet, struggling with my heavy luggage.

“Need a hand?” a man’s voice cut through my thoughts. Before I could even respond, he was already taking my bags, prying them from my grip with an ease that felt almost dismissive.

"Uh, thanks," I muttered, watching him haul the luggage up the steps of the jet. Was this even real?

Inside, Sharon was waiting, her bright smile as fake as I remembered. “Kiwi! Oh my God, look at you!” Her eyes swept over me, lingering on all the wrong places. “Still… you,” she added, her tone too sharp to be anything close to nice.

“Yeah,” I replied, biting back the instinct to roll my eyes. Same old Sharon. Still poking at me for being shorter and curvier than the rest of them. “Still me.”

I looked to Natasha, Jane and Pepper and waved before following them into the Private Jet.

Sharon smirked, gesturing toward the jet's sleek interior. “Welcome aboard. I bet it’s been a while since you’ve ridden in anything like this?”

I didn’t bother with a response. There were a million reasons why I didn’t fly on private jets, one being that I couldn’t afford too, but it wasn’t worth the energy. I followed Sharon inside, catching sight of the group lounging around like they belonged there.

Steve was the first to greet me, his golden hair practically glowing in the soft light as he flashed that easy smile. “Hey, Kiwi,” he said, patting the seat beside him. His tone was friendly—maybe a little too friendly—but I hesitated. Before I could move, Natasha grabbed my arm and steered me toward a different seat.

“We saved you a spot over here!” Natasha chimed, squeezing my arm with just a bit too much excitement. She shot a quick glance at Steve, then back at me, like there was something I wasn’t picking up on.

Peter was already seated across from me, leaning back with a casual confidence that made me uncomfortable. His dark eyes met mine for a split second, and he gave a small nod. There was nothing awkward or out of place about him—if anything, he looked like he belonged here. Like this was exactly where he wanted to be.

“Glad you could make it,” Peter said, his voice smooth and low. There was something about the way he said it, something that felt off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

The conversations around me were light, but every now and then, I’d catch something—a quick glance between Steve and Peter, a soft chuckle from one of the boys, or Sharon’s eyes sparkling with something that wasn’t amusement. It felt like they were all in on something, like the air was thick with an inside joke I wasn’t a part of.

I tried to brush it off, joining in on the small talk and ignoring the strange tension. But with every shared look between the boys, every lingering gaze from Sharon, that unease just kept creeping back.

It was like they were waiting for something.

Something I wasn’t in on.

***

I stirred awake to the gentle shake of my shoulder and a soft voice calling my name. “Hey, Kiwi, we’ve landed,” Natasha said, with a small grin, wiping her own hands on her lap. “You’ve got a little drool there.”

Still groggy, I wiped at the side of my mouth, feeling my face flush as I tried to erase the evidence of my nap. I sat up, blinking a few times, trying to get my bearings. When I looked around, I noticed the plane was emptier than before.

“Where is everyone?” I asked, my voice still thick with sleep.

Natasha stretched, her arms raising above her head. “They already headed to the villa. I guess they didn’t want to disturb you.”

I glanced over at Peter, still slouched in his seat, eyes closed, completely knocked out. The soft rise and fall of his chest made him look so peaceful, like the weight of the world wasn’t even a concern. He hadn’t noticed anything either.

Natasha smirked, shrugging. “I felt bad leaving you two alone, so I stayed back.”

I looked between Natasha and Peter, my stomach twisting. “Oh… right,” I muttered, feeling a familiar awkwardness settle over me. My head dropped slightly. It wasn’t the first time I felt like an outsider with these people, but moments like this seemed to make it worse.

Natasha didn’t say anything, but she gave me a look, one that spoke volumes without needing words. Then she moved toward Peter, giving him a nudge. He jolted awake, eyes wide as if he had no idea where he was. “Where is everyone?” he asked, his voice a little too casual.

Natasha repeated the same thing she told me, though this time, there was a teasing edge to her tone. “They left for the villa, but I didn’t want to leave you two sleeping on the plane.”

Peter ran a hand through his messy hair, giving a lazy stretch before standing up. I wondered if I was overthinking things, but Natasha’s earlier look stayed in the back of my mind.

“Alright, let’s catch up,” Peter said, flashing that easygoing smile of his.

As soon as I stepped off the plane, the warm, salty air hit me, carrying the scent of the ocean and sun. Waiting outside was a sleek black car, ready to take us to the villa. Peter led the way, while Natasha shot me an encouraging smile, like she knew exactly what I was thinking but wouldn’t say it out loud.

But once we got in the car, the excitement that had been bubbling inside me during the plane ride started to fizzle. Reality was sinking in, fast. I stared out the window as the scenery blurred by, and that familiar, sinking feeling crept in.

What am I even doing here?

Every part of me was screaming that this was a mistake. I didn’t belong here. These people had made me feel out of place back then—why would now be any different? I had spent so much time trying to distance myself from them, so why was I here now, in the same circle that made me feel like I wasn’t enough?

Was it going to be like this the entire trip? A constant feeling of not fitting in? The idea of spending two months like this, constantly questioning why I came, made my chest tighten.

I imagined stopping the car right there, getting out, and figuring out a way to go home. But how? I came here with them, and I was stuck until they decided to leave. There wasn’t exactly an easy way out.

I sighed, feeling a knot form in my throat as the tears threatened to well up. But I fought them back, forcing myself to take a deep breath. ‘Hold it together,’ I told myself. There was no way I was going to fall apart in front of Peter, Natasha, or anyone else.

I stared out at the horizon, the villa still nowhere in sight, trying to clear the anxious storm swirling inside me. I would just have to figure this out somehow. I always did.

***

When Natasha, Peter, and I finally arrived at the villa, the others had already claimed their rooms. The place was breathtaking—open spaces, stunning ocean views, and a luxurious atmosphere that screamed money. I was almost tempted to be impressed until Sharon appeared, smug as ever, pointing to the far side of the villa.

"Natasha, Peter, your rooms are down the hall," she said with a wave of her hand before turning to me. Without a word or explanation, she just motioned to the other side of the villa, not even bothering to look me in the eye.

I stood there for a second, waiting for...something. Maybe an explanation, a reason for the sudden isolation, but nothing. No one said anything. Natasha gave me a quick, apologetic glance, but even she stayed quiet.

“Guess I'm on my own then.”

I walked in the direction Sharon had pointed, my suitcase bumping against my heels as I made my way down the corridor. The villa was massive, sprawling in all directions, but as I got closer to my room, I noticed how much plainer and utilitarian the space became. The opulence of the rest of the villa seemed to vanish the farther I went.

And then I found it—a small, one-off room that looked like it had been tacked on as an afterthought. My stomach twisted as I stepped inside. It didn’t have the same elegance as the other rooms I’d seen. The furniture was basic, the decor minimal, and there was no sign of the luxury that was displayed on the other side of the villa.

It looked like a remodeled servant’s quarter. I knew the vibe all too well. Being around people like Sharon, I had seen enough servant quarters to know what one looked like, no matter how much they tried to pretty it up.

I stood there for a moment, soaking it all in. There had to be at least one or two other rooms left over in this massive villa, but I wasn’t given one of those. No, this room was chosen specifically for me. The message was loud and clear: *Know your place. *

I set my suitcase down with a sigh, biting back the frustration swelling in my chest. I should have expected this. I knew what I was getting into when I accepted the invite.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my half-unpacked suitcase, trying to figure out a game plan for the next two months. The thought of spending all that time with these people—people who barely knew me, or worse, remembered me only for what I wasn’t—made my stomach twist. I didn’t want to be ignored the entire trip, but becoming a complete recluse would probably just make things worse. What if they just... left me behind?

The more I thought about it, the more frustrated I got. The walls seemed to inch closer, squeezing the air out of the room. My anxiety gnawed at me from the inside. Was this really worth getting away from my parents?

Before I could spiral any further, a light knock on the doorframe jolted me from my thoughts. I turned to see Natasha standing there with a soft smile and a casual “Hey.”

I forced a smile in return. "Hey," I said, trying to sound less flustered than I felt.

Natasha stepped inside, looking around the room before glancing back at me. “Nice room,” she commented.

I glanced at her, trying to figure out if she was joking. Was she being serious? Because this room—my room—was anything but nice. It was clearly the smallest, most tucked-away space in the entire villa. My little corner of the world, far from everyone else.

“Yeah,” I muttered, not sure what else to say.

“They’re about to get ready for lunch in like two minutes,” Natasha added, a little too breezily, as if she hadn’t noticed how awkward this all felt.

"Okay," I said, figuring that was her cue to leave. But instead of leaving, she sat down on the edge of the bed, her gaze still fixed on me, like she was waiting for something.

I shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to do next. “Was there… something else?” I asked, hesitantly, trying to figure out what this impromptu visit was really about.

Natasha took a deep breath, still staring me down before stating “Sharon invited you to keep Peter busy.”

  I froze for a moment, blinking in disbelief as Natasha’s words settled in. "Wait… what do you mean I was invited to keep Peter busy?"

Natasha’s shifted uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze for a moment before facing me again "Look, it wasn’t meant to be a big deal. Sharon didn’t want things to be awkward, you know? If you didn’t come, there would've been an odd number, and Steve didn’t want to leave Peter behind."

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “So, I was invited to… what? Be Peter’s distraction?”

She shrugged, looking almost apologetic. "Well, it’s not like it’s a bad thing. You two are both nice people, right? It’s not like it was meant to offend you or anything"

I stared at her, still trying to process this. Peter? Then it hit me.

"What about Clementine?" I asked, my curiosity spiking. Last I heard, she and Peter were still together. Sure, she hadn’t been on the plane, but I figured maybe she was meeting up with us later. They were inseparable, after all.

Natasha shrugged again, but there was something uneasy in her eyes this time. "I don’t know. Sharon thinks they broke up, but…"

"But?" I pressed, sensing there was more to it.

She sighed, glancing away. "Clementine kind of just… disappeared. She stopped coming around, and Peter stopped talking about her. It’s weird, though. I don’t think anyone really knows what happened."

The room suddenly felt colder, and the walls seemed to close in again. Clementine disappeared? And now I was supposed to… what? Be Peter's distraction? None of this made sense, and yet, it felt like I was being pulled into something I wasn’t ready for.

I stared at Natasha, my mind spinning as she casually shrugged off the fact that Clementine had just disappeared. Clementine wasn’t the kind of girl to just vanish without a trace. She was... put together. Confident, smart, driven. The kind of girl who had her entire life mapped out from the moment she could walk.

Clementine had been a scholarship kid, just like me, but that’s where our similarities ended. She had that type of grace and poise that people like me only dreamed of. I remember seeing her around campus, always looking so polished, so in control, even though she came from a background as modest as mine. She had Peter wrapped around her finger—he adored her. At least, that’s what I’d always thought. They were practically inseparable.

The last time I heard anything about her, she was starting some fancy job after graduation, and Peter was supposedly gearing up to propose. That’s what people like Clementine did. She climbed the ladder, no matter where she came from, and she always seemed to have everything fall perfectly into place.

I couldn't wrap my head around this. How did she go from being Peter’s "forever" to just... disappearing? And now *I* was here? Supposed to "keep Peter busy" like some sort of replacement? None of this was making any sense.

Natasha’s voice brought me back to the moment. "Yeah, it was weird, right?" she continued, leaning back casually. "Peter just stopped mentioning her, like she never existed. He’s been pretty chill about the whole thing. But Sharon thinks they broke up, and... I don’t know, maybe she’s right. Maybe that’s why you’re here."

I shook my head, trying to process. "Clementine wouldn’t just disappear. She wasn’t like that. She had a plan, she was going to—"

Natasha cut me off. "Well, plans change, right? Maybe she wasn’t as perfect as you think. People always hide stuff. Maybe Peter saw something in her that no one else did."

The idea didn’t sit right with me. Clementine always seemed untouchable, like she had everything figured out. Now, she was just… gone. And here I was, caught in some ridiculous plan to "keep Peter busy."

I started gearing up to confront Sharon, but Natasha quickly stepped in front of me, stopping me before I could make it to the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked, her voice edged with concern.

"I just want to have a little chat with Sharon," I replied, trying to sidestep her. But Natasha moved again, blocking me. She lowered her voice, clearly not wanting to make a scene.

"You're being ridiculous. Just calm down and think about this." Her eyes darted around nervously. "This is supposed to be a vacation. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You could still enjoy yourself, Kiwi."

I paused and turned to face her, frustration bubbling up. "That was always the plan, but why did you have to tell me about Sharon’s little setup with Peter?" I tried to keep my voice steady, but it was sharp.

"I was just giving you a heads up," Natasha said softly, her eyes pleading.

I sighed, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me. But I couldn’t just let it go. Without saying another word, I turned and marched toward Sharon and Steve’s room, Natasha trailing behind me, still begging me to think it through.

When I reached the door, I didn’t hesitate—I slammed it open. There, on top of Steve, was Sharon, practically tangled up with him. She scrambled off him the second she saw me, her face flushed. Steve, on the other hand, just stayed where he was, smirking like the whole thing was a joke to him.

"What the hell is your problem?" Sharon snapped, straightening out her clothes.

I didn’t flinch. "I want to go home."

I thought about calling her out right then and there, exposing the whole plan about setting me up with Peter. But I couldn’t do that—not without throwing Natasha under the bus. As much as I was irritated with her, I wasn’t ready to burn that bridge. So I kept it simple.

"This whole trip has been uncomfortable for me since I got on the plane. If it’s going to be like this for a whole months I don’t want to stay."

Sharon's expression shifted, her irritation melting into a smirk. "Sure, whatever."

Just as I was about to turn and leave, Steve’s deep voice cut through the air. "No."

I froze, watching as Steve got up from the bed, his frame towering over me. It was then that I realized how much bigger he was compared to me. He took a step closer, his eyes locked on mine.

"Why not?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Steve gave me a cold, calculated smile. "The itinerary is already set, Kiwi. We can’t just change everything around because one person is feeling a little uncomfortable."

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "I’ll pay you back," I offered, even though I knew it was a desperate move.

Steve laughed, a low, mocking sound. "You have over a hundred grand to pay back?"

My stomach dropped as he kept going. "I heard you were working at some factory for, what, twenty bucks an hour? I’m guessing since you suddenly had time for this trip, you lost that gig, huh?"

I could feel my face flushing as I tried to think of a way out. "I don’t need a private jet home," I said quietly. "Just a ride and an economy seat. I’ll figure it out."

Steve shook his head, stepping even closer. "You still owe me for your part of the trip," he said, his voice cold and final.

The reality of the situation hit me like a punch to the gut. I was trapped, and Steve was making damn sure I knew it.

Steve’s eyes softened as he stood in front of me, his posture relaxed, like he was trying to show he wasn’t a threat. He moved to block my way, but not in an intimidating way—it felt more like he was trying to keep me from making a mistake.

“You’re upset,” he said, his voice gentler now, almost coaxing. “I get it, Kiwi, I really do. But leaving right now? That’s not what you really want.”

I frowned, crossing my arms, my defenses already up. “I’m uncomfortable, Steve. Why would I stay?”

He sighed softly, brushing a hand through his tousled blonde hair. “Look, I get that things have been a little weird, but think about it. Going back home, what’s waiting for you there? Things weren’t exactly great, were they?”

I blinked, surprised by his words. It was vague, but it still struck a nerve. My chest tightened at the reminder of how suffocating life at home had been.

Steve stepped closer, but there was no malice in his movements. If anything, his presence felt like it was wrapping around me, enveloping me in something familiar yet foreign.

“Why rush back to all that?” he asked, his voice low, almost tender. “You’ve got a chance here to take a break, to really breathe.”

I swallowed hard, trying to maintain my composure. He wasn’t exactly wrong. I hadn’t been thrilled about the idea of going back to my parents’ house—being treated like I’d failed, like I was just in the way.

“That’s not the point,” I muttered, my voice not as strong as I wanted it to be. “I didn’t come here to feel like an outsider.”

Steve’s expression shifted, softening even more. He moved closer, but not threateningly—just enough to let me know he was serious. “You don’t have to. No one here is against you, Kiwi. You’ve got space here to be free, to enjoy yourself. You’re not stuck.”

His words, smooth and almost too perfect, started to chip away at my defenses. He wasn’t wrong. There was a kind of freedom here that I didn’t have back home. No hovering parents, no endless job hunt. Just sun, sand, and a chance to let go of the chaos.

“I just want you to give it a shot,” Steve continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “If, after a week, you still feel like this… I’ll make sure you get home. Personally. But for now, just relax. Let yourself enjoy it.”

I hesitated, my mind a tug-of-war between the stress and frustration that had been building and the calm that Steve was offering. He seemed so reasonable, so understanding. Was I just being paranoid? Maybe I needed to take a step back and see if things improved.

“Alright,” I said finally, my voice soft. “I’ll stay. But just for a week.”

A slow smile spread across Steve’s face, his satisfaction clear, though he tried to hide it behind his cool demeanor. “Good. I knew you’d see things my way.”

He stepped back, giving me space, and for a moment, I felt the weight lift just a little. Natasha, who had been quietly watching, caught my eye, but her expression was hard to read. Maybe I wasn’t seeing the full picture. Or maybe I was just overthinking everything.

Am I making the right call? ***

Steve moved me out of the servant’s quarters and into a small, luxury room. It wasn’t anywhere near the others, but it was closer to the pool in the back, so I figured I could make do. At least it didn’t feel like a forgotten corner of the house.

As I unpacked, Natasha stayed with me, folding clothes and organizing things like she was trying to smooth over the mess from earlier.

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly, breaking the quiet. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, not entirely sure if I believed her or if she was just trying to stay on good terms. The side-eye I gave her must’ve said enough because she added, “Seriously, Kiwi. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.”

I sighed, my shoulders relaxing a little. “It’s fine,” I muttered. "Just... don’t spring shit like that on me again."

Natasha nodded, her expression softening. “I promise. I just want you to enjoy the trip. We all do.”

Enjoy the trip. Right. That’s what I kept telling myself. I needed to enjoy myself, no matter what. To hell with everyone else. To hell with Sharon’s power plays and the thinly veiled insults. To hell with my parents, and their endless nagging about how I should’ve been more like Sharon. To hell with all of it.

I glanced around my new room, taking in the sleek design, the comfortable bed, and the view of the pool. This wasn’t so bad. Maybe I could actually breathe for a while. Just focus on enjoying the sun, the beach, the space.

I started to settle in more than I thought I would. The awkwardness from the first week wasn’t as obvious anymore. It didn’t happen overnight, but gradually, things started to feel less forced. Daily activities like yoga on the beach, lounging by the pool, and group dinners became easier. I found myself laughing more, sharing more, and getting used to the rhythm of this strange little bubble.

Sure, they were still spoiled rich kids, but there was more to them than I’d initially thought. While I wasn’t entirely convinced about Sharon and her sway over the group, it was becoming harder to see them solely as the superficial snobs I had first assumed them to be.

That morning, after yoga, I was ready to return to my room and have some alone time. But Steve wasn’t having it. “Why don’t you stay out here with us?” he asked, flashing me one of his playful grins. “Hang with the crew?”

Something in his voice made it clear it wasn’t really a suggestion, so I felt the need to give in and sat down on a couch in the living room. Steve wasted no time sliding into the seat beside mine, his leg pressing against mine. The closeness threw me off a little, but no one else seemed to notice or care.

I guess this was normal for them.

Sharon was still holed up in her room, recovering from whatever had her down. I worried for her but pushed it to the back of my mind. She had plenty of people to take care of her. I didn’t need to be that person.

To ease the awkwardness I felt from Steve sitting so close, I pulled out my phone and opened the book I’d downloaded the day before, hoping it would be a good distraction.

Steve glanced over his breath against my face. “Is that the book you were talking about?”

I blinked, a bit surprised he even remembered. “Yeah, this is it.”

“Nice,” he said, nodding approvingly before returning his attention to the TV. He casually placed his arm behind my head, resting it on the couch acting so casually.

I tried to focus on my book, but it was hard. Everyone was so nice and considerate of me, much different from when we were in university when they’d either be outright rude or ignore me. Despite everything, maybe this trip wasn’t so bad. Maybe I was just overthinking things.

Sharon was starting to act... off. By the middle of the second week, it was impossible not to notice. She was constantly tired, missing yoga three times a row, skipping meals, and staying shut in her room. For someone like Sharon, who thrived on being the center of attention and orchestrating everything, it was bizarre. And yet, she was barely keeping up with the group. 

One afternoon, we decided to keep it simple and go to a beach nearby. I had already gotten comfortable in the sand, watching Natasha and Pepper chat while Thor, Peter, and Bruce waded into the water. Tony opted to stay on the beach and tan. But Sharon kept to herself, not saying much. But when I looked at her, she was pale, and I could see the sweat collecting at her temples. Something wasn’t right.

She stood, aiming for the cooler, stumbling along the way. 

I stood up immediately, but she waved me off with a shaky hand. "I’m fine, just tired," she mumbled, but even from where I stood, it was clear she wasn’t. No one else moved to help her, not even Steve, who was just lounging, watching the scene unfold before him.

Seriously?

 I felt my frustration spike but now wasn’t the time. I didn't want to let her collapse on the beach. “Do you need to sit down?” I asked, catching her just as she was about to lose her balance completely.

Steve didn’t budge. He just kept lounging, watching with his casual look, before he got up and headed toward the water like everything was normal. I clenched my teeth but focused on Sharon. Whatever Steve’s deal was, it wasn’t helping right now.

“Come on, let’s get you back to the villa,” I said, looping my arm around her waist to support her. Sharon leaned into me, too weak to even protest. I glanced back a few times, hoping someone would come around to help, but no one did.

Back inside the villa, I helped Sharon sit down and grabbed her some water. She looked rough, her face flushed, and her eyes half-closed, as if she were fighting to stay conscious. She took small sips of the water, her embarrassment evident.

“Thanks,” she murmured, clearly not used to being this vulnerable. For a second, I saw something past the confident, borderline cruel persona she usually showed.

I nodded, not saying much. Despite everything between us, I wasn’t the type to let someone suffer, even if that someone was Sharon. 

“I’ll be fine,” she said after a while, waving her hand like she wanted me to go. But I didn’t leave right away. Something wasn’t right, and I wasn’t about to leave her alone, especially after Steve just... bailed.

 I sighed, sitting there with her, knowing I wouldn’t feel right unless I saw this through.

Sharon was getting worse, fast. I tried to get her to drink more water, but she barely sipped, her words coming out all slurred and jumbled. Panic crept up my spine as I watched her skin turn clammy. And then, without warning, her eyes fluttered shut, and she slumped forward, completely out.

My heart leaped into my throat. “Shit,” I whispered, bolting out of the room like my life depended on it. I practically sprinted toward the others by the shore.

"Sharon needs help! She needs a doctor!" I shouted, breathless, my voice shaky, as my lungs tried to keep up. 

Steve barely glanced up from where he was lounging. “Are you sure she’s not just being dramatic?” he asked, annoyed, like I was overreacting.

 I grabbed his hand and rushed him back to the villa without thinking. When he saw Sharon unconscious on the floor, his face went pale. "Oh shit."

 Finally. he rushed over to her, kneeling beside her, and placed his hand on her forehead. Bruce was close behind, calm as ever, entirely in control of the situation.

 Bruce crouched next to Sharon, checking her pulse like he’d done it a hundred times before. After what felt like an eternity, he looked up, his expression serious. “She’s severely dehydrated.”

 I shook my head, my chest tightening. “But she’s been drinking water. I’ve been making sure of it!” 

Bruce stayed focused on Sharon but nodded. “Her body’s not absorbing it. It could be heat exhaustion or something else. We need to get her fluids, fast.”

 Pepper was already on the phone with emergency services, and Bruce carefully turned Sharon onto her side, ensuring she stayed breathing.

 “We need to cool her down,” Bruce added, glancing at Steve. “Get some towels soaked in cold water. We’ve got to bring her temperature down.”

 Steve didn’t hesitate this time. He darted out, leaving me standing there, feeling completely useless. I hated being helpless and standing on the sidelines while everyone else knew what to do.

 Bruce glanced at me, his voice calm and steady. “Don’t worry. She’ll be fine once they get her some fluids.”

 I nodded, but the knot in my chest refused to loosen. I wasn’t going to relax until Sharon opened her eyes again.

 Sharon had been out cold for 16 hours straight. I stayed with her the entire time, only leaving once to shower quickly and change back at the villa. Steve was there, too, leaning against the wall. His usual laid-back attitude was gone, replaced with genuine concern, hopefully feeling guilty for ignoring Sharon's state.  

When Sharon finally stirred, her eyes fluttered open, and the first thing she saw was Steve. There was this glimmer in her eyes like his presence was some kind of comfort to her. But then she spotted me, and that glimmer quickly vanished, replaced with tears.

 Medical staff rushed in to check her vitals, making sure everything was stable, but her tears didn’t stop. She turned to me, her voice shaky and almost resentful. "This must make you happy."

 I blinked, completely thrown off. "What?" I asked, genuinely confused.

 "You…seeing me like this. It must make you happy," she repeated, her words cutting deeper than I expected.

 For a second, I didn’t even know how to respond. Was she serious? Then, as disbelief turned into frustration, I shook my head. "Never," I said more firmly than I intended. "Sharon, in all the years I’ve known you, I’ve only ever helped you. Every time." My voice softened a bit, but the truth in my words was undeniable. "You’re the one who’s thrived on watching me fall apart."

Sharon didn’t say anything for a while; she just stared at me with her lips pressed together like she wanted to argue, but something held her back. Finally, she sighed and sank back into her pillow.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, barely audible, but it was there, a reluctant kind of gratitude.

I nodded, but the air between us was thick, the tension still hanging. "You're welcome," I replied quietly, wondering if this little moment of honesty meant anything to her or if she’d just return to her old ways the second she recovered.

Two days passed, and things finally came to a head. I sat in Sharon’s hospital room with Tony and Pepper, chatting idly. Sharon still looked pale but was doing much better, which was a relief. She broke the quiet, her voice firm.

"I want to go home."

I glanced at Thor, expecting him to talk her out of it, but he nodded like it was no big deal and pulled out his phone. "Okay," he said, already texting Steve.

I was a little surprised. I mean, I figured Steve would push back or suggest Sharon stay a bit longer to rest up. I thought the medical scare would have him in protective mode, but apparently not. Maybe it did get to him, and he just wanted her home, safe and sound.

Maybe. 

Back at the villa, Natasha and I helped Sharon pack. We were in her room, folding clothes and zipping up suitcases. It was almost too quiet, with this weird tension hanging in the air. I kept thinking about what Sharon had said earlier. Sure, she was always dramatic, but something felt… off.  

Once everything was packed and ready, Sharon paused and gave Natasha a look, almost like she was sizing her up. Then, out of nowhere, she hugged me. And not the usual Sharon hug, either. This was tight, like she meant it. I was so thrown off I barely hugged her back. While we hugged, she leaned in close and whispered, “Be careful.”

I froze, unsure of how to react. I mean, what? What was I supposed to do with that? But before I could even process it, Sharon had already pulled back and moved on to hug Natasha.

“Take care,” she said to Natasha, sounding casual. 

Steve was waiting by the door, ready to walk Sharon out like the doting boyfriend, but Sharon, true to form, brushed him off. “I’m fine,” she said, barely looking at him. She kissed him on the cheek like she was going through the motions.

“I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip,” she said, her tone neutral. But when her eyes flicked to me, I saw something else. Concern? A warning? I wasn’t sure, but the look stuck with me.

And then she was gone. I didn’t know what to think. Was I supposed to read into all that? Or was Sharon just being Sharon?

Everyone seemed to fall back into their usual routine in no time, but I couldn’t shake what had happened to Sharon. How quickly she’d spiraled, how fast she was just… gone. It stuck with me, swirling in my head while I sat in my room trying to make sense of everything. Natasha was sitting next to me, doing her best to comfort me, saying Sharon would be okay, I didn’t need to worry so much, and I should continue enjoying my vacation.

 It eventually went quiet, and Steve was standing at my doorway when I looked up.

Natasha gave me a quick look, then stood without a word and left, leaving me alone in the room with him. He didn’t hesitate, walking over to sit beside me on the bed, his usual confident demeanor softened.

“The last few days were pretty scary, huh?” Steve said, his voice calm. “But at least we can all have peace of mind now, knowing Sharon’s okay.”

I nodded, trying to push away the uneasiness still clinging to me. “Why did you let her go?” I asked, my voice quieter than I meant it to be. 

Steve glanced at me, his eyes soft but steady. “She’s not well, Kiwi. It wouldn’t be fair to keep her here, away from home” 

His reasoning was precisely what I expected, but I still didn’t like it. 

Steve stood, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet. “Come on, everyone’s going shopping,” he said, his voice warm and persuasive. “You should come. Take your mind off of all this.”

I hesitated for a second but then nodded. “Okay,” I agreed, letting him lead me out of the room and into the main area, where everyone else was already waiting, ready to head out.

Sharon was still on my mind, but if she was going to be okay, maybe I could try to enjoy the rest of this trip. It was what I came here for, after all.

A few days after Sharon left, I finally got a text from her.

–Feeling much better. Thanks for everything.

That was it. No long explanations, no dramatic thank you, just that simple message. I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. Knowing she was okay should’ve given me peace, but I couldn’t shake this odd sense of... detachment. The days here at the villa were starting to blur together, each feeling like the last.

Morning yoga, lounging by the pool, and fancy dinners were like living in some beautiful, surreal bubble. But I couldn’t help feeling like I was drifting through it all, like none of this was real, and I was just waiting for something to snap me back to reality.

Maybe it was because Sharon wasn’t here anymore. Or perhaps it was because I couldn’t help but wonder if things would change now that she was gone.

I don’t know exactly when it started, but over the next few days, Steve got a lot more comfortable around me, too comfortable, if I’m honest. It wasn’t just the casual arm draped over my shoulder anymore or how he’d guide me by the small of my back. Now, it was more.

One afternoon, after a long day by the pool, Steve came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and lifting me slightly off the ground. I squealed, surprised, but he just laughed and set me down, pressing a ‘playful’ kiss on my cheek.

“Hey, you!” he said, that usual charming grin on his face as if this kind of intimacy between us was completely normal.

I blinked, frozen in place for a second, trying to process what had just happened. No one seemed to care or even notice. Peter and Natasha were too engrossed in some heated conversation by the pool. Bruce was off somewhere with Jane, Thor, and Pepper.

What the hell was that? I thought. But I smiled back, brushing it off like it was nothing.

Another day, during a group hike, he held my hand the entire time, something he hadn’t done before. It wasn’t like we were lagging behind or needed help climbing; he just... held it, like it was the most natural thing in the world. I remember feeling that odd, familiar discomfort creeping back in, but no one said anything. Not Natasha, not Peter, not anyone.

Then came the moment that threw me off. We were all gathered outside around the fire pit one evening, laughing about something silly Tony had said, and Steve, turned to me, all giddy from whatever had amused him so much,  peppering kisses all over my face, forehead, cheeks, nose, all in this overly affectionate, playful way.

“Steeeve!” I protested, trying to push him away, but I was laughing, shocked at the sudden intimacy. He was grinning ear to ear like a little kid, completely unbothered by my attempts to squirm out of his grasp.

“Come on, it’s just a little love!” he teased, finally letting me go, still beaming like he’d won some game.

I sat there, feeling a little off-kilter. What the hell was going on? Since when had we gotten to this level of closeness, and why wasn’t anyone calling it out?

I glanced around, half-expecting someone to call us out or ask if I was okay with it. But there was nothing, just more laughter and easy conversation. It was like this was normal, like Steve’s sudden affection wasn’t something to question.

I didn’t know how to respond to it, didn’t know if I wanted to respond to it. 

After a wild night with the group, I practically stumbled into my room, still feeling the effects of my drinks. I barely remember hitting the pillow before I was out cold. The following day, this unfamiliar warmth was beside me, and I could hear the softest snoring in my ear.

I blinked, groggy and confused, slowly turning my head to see Steve, lying in my bed. His arm was draped over me, and he was shirtless. My breath caught in my throat. What the hell?

Carefully, I inched out from under his arm, moving as slowly as possible so I wouldn’t wake him. My mind raced, trying to remember if I had invited him into my bed last night. Had I? No, I couldn’t have. I didn’t do stuff like that. Or, at least, I didn’t think I did. But everything was fuzzy.

I tiptoed out of the room and into the hallway, my heart still pounding as I tried to make sense of the situation. By the time I made it to the kitchen, I was practically shaking.

Natasha was already there, casually sipping her coffee like any other morning. Like nothing was out of the ordinary at all.

 I also bonded with Natasha in a way I hadn’t expected while on this trip. She started opening up more, dropping her usual aloofness, and I realized she wasn’t as hard to read as I’d initially thought. We talked more about life, and awkward moments and even shared a few laughs that made me feel a little more at ease while on this trip.

We sat together eating breakfast, and Natasha seemed more relaxed, telling me about how exhausting it could be keeping up appearances with their friend group, especially with Steve and Sharon always in the spotlight.

“I get it,” I said, nodding. “It’s like you’re always on, you know?”

Natasha smiled, but it was tired as if the weight of those expectations had never fully gone away. It made me feel a little less out of place, knowing that even within their circle, not everything was perfect.

We continued chatting about random things when I decided to ask the question that had been on my mind for days. “Hey, is it just me, or is Steve... I don’t know, acting different? Like, friendlier than usual?” 

Natasha shrugged it off, barely looking up from her plate. “Oh, he’s like that with everyone. Real touchy-feely. It's just Steve.”

I don’t remember him being like that back in University.

I frowned. Sure, Steve was always friendly, but this was different. Before I could push it further, Steve appeared in the doorway, shirtless, his pants barely buttoned like he had just rolled out of bed. He looked at us with a grin. “You guys started breakfast without me?”

I froze as he bent down and kissed my cheek quickly, then moved over to Natasha and gave her a peck on the top of her head. She stiffened before reverting to a more relaxed position. She looked at me, her expression almost smug as if to say, See? Told you.

But I wasn’t buying it. The entire interaction was already so weird. Too familiar. Too uncomfortable. But I kept my doubts to myself. 

By the afternoon, everyone had scattered to do their own thing, and the villa felt a little too quiet for my liking. Needing a breather, I wandered out for a walk, hoping the fresh air would help me clear my head. No destination in mind, just the need to escape for a bit.

As I strolled along the path near our villa, I noticed a man lounging on the porch of the neighboring property, casually sipping from an iced coffee. He caught my eye and waved me over with a lazy smile.

"Afternoon," he greeted, his voice carrying a teasing edge. "You look like someone who's just been subjected to one too many rich-people conversations. Tell me, how long until you snap and start throwing caviar at their faces?"

I snorted, surprised at his bluntness. "Oh, I’m, uh… actually with them."

I wasn’t wearing a uniform, but I guess my clothing didn’t look as fancy as everyone else I was with.

“Lloyd”, he introduced himself. He raised an eyebrow, eyes covered by sunglasses pretending to clutch his chest dramatically. "No! Say it ain’t so. You’re one of them? And here I was, thinking I’d found a sane person in this gated paradise."

I laughed nervously, unable to help myself. "I guess I blend in well, then?"

He smirked. "Sure, if ‘blending in’ means looking like you’d rather be elsewhere. Let me guess, they’re already planning which island to buy next while you’re just trying to figure out how not to roll your eyes?"

"It’s not that bad," I replied, though my smile probably gave me away.He chuckled. "Don’t worry, I’m not judging. I’ve met their type. The kind who consider ‘roughing it’ to mean forgetting their designer sunglasses. God forbid they experience a single unfiltered moment."

“Aren’t you one of them?” I asked. Crossing my arms. It seemed like he was here with his own personal Villa, so I had no reason not to believe that he was no better than the ‘rich kids’, I’d been spending time with.

“Only half,” he responds. “I lived with my mom in Brooklyn, New York, for most of my life, and Papa Bear decided he wanted to be a father. Turns out he’s loaded.”

I raised my brows, not expecting that. 

He smiled, his mustache was almost endearing. “Well, don’t just stand there, come have a seat.” He pats the chair next to him, the invitation as casual as his grin. I hesitate for a second, but then the thought hits me—what’s the harm in learning more about my temporary neighbor? I needed a break from everybody else and it was refreshing to meet someone outside of that.

I step forward and sit, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and ease.

I wasn’t sure when my light flirting with Lloyd had turned into actual interest. Maybe it was his dark humor, or maybe it was just that he was so different from everyone else in my life, grounded. He wasn’t part of Steve’s wealthy, entitled world. It felt refreshing, something I didn’t even know I needed until now. 

 He leaned back, eyeing me thoughtfully. " What’s the story? How’d you end up with the royal brats?"

Before I could answer, a familiar voice called out my name. I looked up to see Steve, standing in front  me with his usual confident grin, though there was something more possessive in the way his eyes clung to me.

"Lunch is almost ready," Steve said, not even glancing at Lloyd. "We should head back." He point over his shoulder to our villa.

I was caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone, but I quickly introduced them, trying to ease the awkwardness. "Oh, uh, Steve, this is Lloyd. He’s renting the villa next door."

Lloyd stood and offered his hand, smirking as they shook hands. "Nice to meet you. So, you must be the one keeping our girl here trapped in luxury hell."

Steve’s expression didn’t change, but there was a noticeable tightening of his jaw. "Something like that," he replied, his tone smooth but clipped.

Their handshake lingered a second too long, each of them standing tall, as if silently sizing each other up. Lloyd didn’t back down, though his grin stayed playful, almost like he enjoyed ruffling Steve’s feathers.

Steve’s turned toward me "We should go. Don’t want to miss lunch."

I barely had time to say goodbye to Lloyd before Steve was pushing me back toward the villa dropping his arm over my shoulder on the way there. As we walked, Steve leaned down, whispering, "You’re too sweet for your own good."

I frowned, confused. "What do you mean by that?"

He didn’t answer, just gave me a look that sent a small shiver down my spine, before we continued walking, leaving me wondering what had really just happened.

The drinks were definitely stronger that night. I could feel the warmth spreading through me, my head swimming just enough to make everything feel a little too slow, a little too blurry. The laughter around me was still loud and bright, but I was barely holding on. Steve must have noticed because, without saying anything, he stood up and gently pulled me to my feet, guiding me back toward the house.

I barely remember the walk inside. My body felt like it was made of lead, each step heavier than the last. By the time we made it to my room, I collapsed onto the bed, too tired to even think about changing into pajamas. I just rolled over, letting my eyes close. Sleep was right there, pulling me under, but something made me crack an eye open.

Steve was pulling off his shirt, tossing it aside with his sandals. His movements were casual, like this was normal for him, like he belonged here. The lights clicked off, and before I could say anything, I felt the bed dip beside me as he climbed in.

“Steve… go to your room,” I mumbled, trying to form the words properly, but they came out thick and slurred. I knew I should’ve been pushing him out, but I couldn’t make my body cooperate. Then his arm slid around my waist, pulling me closer to his chest. His warmth was overwhelming, and every part of me knew this wasn’t right.

But I was so tired

 My brain told me to fight it, to deal with him, but my body refused to move. I’d deal with this tomorrow, I promised myself. I’d give him hell in the morning.

For now, though, I’ll just closed my eyes and let the exhaustion take over

The next morning, I woke up alone, feeling groggy with a mild headache and my body aching in a way I hadn’t expected. For a second, I forgot Steve had been in my bed last night, but the room's quiet made me realize I was alone now. I groaned as I sat up, my head pounding a little too loudly, and all I could think about was finding some Tylenol and going back to bed.

Except I didn’t have any Tylenol. Of course, I didn’t think I’d drink this much on this trip, so I hadn’t packed anything for a hangover. I could ask one of the girls. Pepper seemed like the type to be prepared, but we weren’t exactly close, so I decided to go with Natasha. Maybe she’d have something.

I dragged myself out of bed and over to Natasha’s room. The door was slightly ajar, and soft music was coming from inside. I hesitated momentarily, not wanting to barge in, but I needed something for my head, so I nudged the door open.

 And immediately regretted it.

There, in the middle of the bed, were Natasha and Bruce, naked as the day they were born and completely entangled in each other. My brain barely had time to process what I saw before I quickly closed the door, my heart racing. I stood there momentarily, holding my breath, praying they didn’t see me. The lack of any sudden movement or panic behind the door told me I was in the clear.

I shut the door as silently as I could, ensuring they had their privacy, and retreated to the kitchen. My headache still pounded, and now I was too embarrassed to ask for anything. I figured I could make myself some tea instead and hope that would help.

As the tea brewed, I searched the villa for any kind of pain relief—Tylenol, ibuprofen, Vicodin, anything. But I came up short. Of course, this fancy villa didn’t have any necessities like that. By the time I finished rummaging through the place, my tea was ready, and I grabbed it, deciding to take it outside for some fresh air.

I stepped out by the pool, hoping for a quiet moment to rest my head. But someone had already beaten me to it.

Peter.

He was sitting by the water, looking out at the horizon. I felt awkward, like I was interrupting something, so I mumbled an apology, ready to leave him to his thoughts.

"Don't worry," Peter said, turning his head to look at me. "You can sit with me if you want."

I hesitated for a second, but then I decided to stay. I sat across from him, sipping on my tea, and we fell into some small talk. Nothing too deep, just idle conversation about the villa, the weather, the usual. 

But the more we talked, the more curious I became. My mind kept circling back to something nagging at me since I arrived. Finally, I couldn’t help myself.

“Whatever happened to Clementine?” I asked.

The moment the name left my lips, Peter’s entire demeanor changed. His head snapped toward me, eyes narrowing slightly. There was a stiffness in the air now, thick with tension.

I remember when Peter came to university with a girlfriend, MJ. But they’d broken up, and then there was Clementine. I remembered how inseparable they seemed, always affectionate, always together. It was hard to picture them apart, and yet, Clementine hadn’t been around this trip. No one had mentioned her.

I quickly added, noticing how tense Peter had become, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

The air between us hung heavy with the weight of my question.

Peter sighed and waved off my concern. "No problem," he muttered. Then, almost casually, he added, "She went crazy."

I blinked, unsure what to say, but he continued before I could ask.

“When we both graduated, I was supposed to start mentoring under my father, you know? And Clementine, she landed a job right out of university. Everything seemed to be going great. Then, I proposed.” He paused, his jaw tightening slightly. “She rejected me. She said she wanted us to be more ‘stable,’ which didn’t make sense to me because we were both financially secure. But apparently, there were other types of stability we didn’t have.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, the frustration evident in his voice. “A month later, she breaks up with me. At first, I just let it go. We were done, right? But then I started hearing these rumors about how she lost the lease on her apartment and got fired from her job. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. We weren’t together anymore. It wasn’t my problem.”

Peter’s gaze drifted away, his voice quieter now. “Next thing I know, I get a call from her parents. They were begging me for help. She’d ended up in a psych ward, and they couldn’t afford the treatment, and they made too much money for government assistance but not enough to cover her medical bills. So, I stepped in.”

He glanced at me, his eyes darkening with the memory. “You should’ve seen her, Kiwi. She’d lost so much weight; it was like she was disappearing from the inside out. I couldn’t just leave her like that. So, I took custody, her parents transferred her power of attorney, and Now, she lives with me at my place.”

I stared at him, shocked. I had no idea things had gotten so bad with Clementine. It was the complete opposite of the girl I remembered.

Peter ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “The thing is, she can’t talk to anyone else. I seem to be one of the only people she can communicate with. So, I’m careful when I bring others to my place. I don’t want to upset her.”

“Peter, I’m so sorry,” I said softly, unsure what else to say. It felt the wrong thing to say, but it was all I had.

He gave me a small, grateful smile. “Thanks. She’s doing better now, but... she still finds it difficult to leave the house. I’ve been doing everything I can, but I get pretty protective myself. Probably too much, honestly. I’m working on it.”

I didn’t know what to think. I hadn’t expected any of this. It was hard to imagine Peter caring for Clementine like that, to think of her in such a fragile state. The whole situation felt like a punch to the gut, and I couldn’t help but feel a wave of sympathy for him.

The third week of the trip had started to blend into the rest, but the jet skiing adventure gave me a brief escape. The sun was high, the ocean stretched out like a never-ending canvas, and everyone else was way ahead, weaving through the waves like they were born on the water. I hung back, as usual, taking my time and keeping my speed steady.

But just as I started to feel a little more confident, the engine sputtered. My heart dropped as my jet ski slowed to a crawl, then died altogether, leaving me stranded in the middle of the ocean.

"Seriously?" I muttered, pressing a few buttons, trying to restart the engine. Nothing. Great.

I glanced around, hoping someone from the group would notice, but they were all too far ahead. I felt a wave of frustration rising through me. That’s when I spotted a familiar figure cutting through the water in my direction. Lloyd.

He pulled up next to me, his ever-present smirk in place. “Run out of juice already?” he teased, clearly amused by my predicament.

I rolled my eyes with a smile “Obviously.”

Lloyd chuckled and glanced around, his eyes scanning the empty stretch of water. “Well, lucky for you, I’m a gentleman,” he said, patting the back of his jet ski. “Hop on. I’ll give you a ride.”

 “Alright, thanks,” I quipped

Since that first night we met, I’d been texting Lloyd more than I thought I would. At first, I was convinced he was just like the rest of them, another one of those rich kids I claimed to be wary of, another piece of the puzzle that didn’t quite fit with my life. But something about Lloyd was different. Maybe it was the way he joked with that dark humor of his, or the fact that he never seemed to take anything too seriously. Whatever it was, I found myself enjoying our late-night conversations more than I expected to.

When I wasn’t too drunk from another round of drinks with the group, I’d call him. It wasn’t anything deep, just simple talks about random things, how he hated how out of place he felt here, how I felt like I was stuck in a life that didn’t quite belong to me. In a weird way, we got each other, even though we came from completely different worlds. There was something about him that made me feel grounded, like I wasn’t completely adrift.

The more we talked, the more I started to look forward to his texts. It was like a small escape from the chaos around me.

As soon as I settled in, his next question caught me off guard. “So… where’s Steve?” His voice was casual, but the question made me stiffen.

Before I could respond, Steve’s jet ski came roaring up to us, cutting through the water with a spray of mist. The second he spotted me on the back of Lloyd’s jet ski, his entire demeanor shifted. The easygoing smile he usually wore vanished, replaced by something tighter. Possessive.

"Lloyd! What are the chances?" Steve called out, his tone too friendly, his voice louder than necessary as he pulled up beside us. His eyes flicked between me and Lloyd, his jaw clenching as if he was trying to grit his teeth through a smile.

"Yeah, what are the chances?" Lloyd echoed, though the smirk on his face remained firmly in place.

Steve’s gaze lingered on where I was holding onto Lloyd's waist, his hand twitching on the handlebar of his jet ski. The tension in the air was unmistakable, and for a second, it felt like I was intruding on some unspoken battle between the two of them.

"Kiwi," Steve said, his tone softening as he turned to me. "Your jet ski ran out of fuel?"

I nodded, feeling a little awkward now that I was the center of attention. “Yeah, it just... died. Lloyd was helping me out.”

Steve’s smile didn’t reach his eyes as he responded. “Appreciate that, Lloyd.” He paused, his gaze hardening as it flicked back to Lloyd. “But I’ve got it from here.”

Without waiting for a reply, Steve reached over, his hand brushing my arm as if to help me off Lloyd’s jet ski. I stopped him.

"Hey, Steve, don’t worry about me," I said, forcing a smile, my heart beating a little faster than I’d like. "I think I’m gonna hang out with Lloyd a little bit."

Steve’s brow arched, and I saw his jaw clench ever so slightly. "You sure?"

I nodded, trying to play it off casually. "Yup. I’ll meet you guys back at the villa."

Steve’s eyes lingered on me for a beat too long, but before he could say anything, Lloyd piped up from behind me. "Cowabunga!" he shouted, revving the jet ski’s engine and speeding off, away from Steve.

The sudden burst of speed made me grip Lloyd’s waist tighter, laughing as we raced across the water. The wind whipped through my hair, the salty spray of the ocean splashing against my face. It was exhilarating. Everything with Lloyd felt easy, carefree, like I could just let go of all the tension and overthinking that usually bogged me down.

We zigzagged through the waves, occasionally catching small jumps that made me laugh even louder. Lloyd would glance back at me with that goofy, boyish grin of his, and I couldn’t help but smile every time.

At one point, he slowed the jet ski down, letting us coast along a more peaceful section of the coastline. The sun was starting to set, casting a golden glow over the water, turning everything soft and warm. We pulled up near a secluded beach, far enough from the main tourist areas that it felt like we were in our own little world.

Lloyd turned around, still grinning. "Not bad for a day out, huh?"

I chuckled, adjusting my grip on his waist. "Yeah, not bad at all. Way better than being stuck at the villa."

We sat there, just drifting along, talking about nothing and everything.

"You know, Kiwi," he said after a while, leaning back slightly so I could hear him over the gentle sound of the water, "I’m glad we’re doing this. I’ve been stuck in my own head since I got here, and you’re kinda making this whole thing... fun."

I smiled, feeling a warmth in my chest that had nothing to do with the sun. "Same here, Lloyd."

The rest of our little jet ski date felt like a blur of laughter, jokes, and moments where we just sat in comfortable silence, watching the ocean stretch out in front of us. For once, I wasn’t worried about Steve or what he thought. I wasn’t thinking about any of the baggage that usually weighed me down.

It was just me and Lloyd, two people who found a little bit of peace in each other’s company.

When I finally made it back to the villa, the air inside felt thick with tension the second I stepped through the door. Steve was lounging on the couch, but there was nothing relaxed about his posture,his jaw was tight, arms crossed, and his eyes locked on me the moment I entered. Natasha was pacing near the kitchen island, her lips pressed together in a thin line. The usual carefree atmosphere of the villa had been replaced by something... colder.

"Where the hell have you been?" Natasha snapped before I could even say anything, her voice a little too sharp.

I blinked, taken aback by the sudden hostility. "I was with Lloyd," I replied, trying to keep my tone even, though I could feel Steve’s gaze drilling into the side of my head. "We went jet skiing. I told Steve."

Natasha’s eyes narrowed, and she threw a quick glance in Steve’s direction before focusing back on me. "Lloyd? You barely know him, Kiwi! He’s a stranger. We don’t know anything about him, and you’re just running off with him like it’s nothing?"

I felt my pulse quicken, a defensive heat rising up my chest. "He’s not just some random guy. We’ve been talking since we met at the villa. He’s... he’s fine."

"Fine?" Natasha stepped closer, shaking her head. "Kiwi, you don’t know what people are capable of. You can’t just trust someone because they seem nice or make you laugh a few times." Her voice softened a little, but the frustration was still there. "You have no idea what his intentions are."

I clenched my fists, trying to keep my cool. "I’m not some naïve little girl, Natasha. I can take care of myself. I know when someone’s bad news, and Lloyd isn’t it." My voice wavered slightly as I spoke, but I held her gaze, unwilling to back down.

Natasha hesitated, glancing again at Steve. He hadn’t said a word, but his silence spoke volumes. He was pissed, that much was clear. The quiet anger radiating off him made me feel uneasy, like I had just walked into a trap I wasn’t even aware of. Natasha, noticing Steve’s lack of response, seemed unsure of how to proceed.

Steve finally stood up, and the movement sent a ripple of tension through the room. His eyes flicked to Natasha, silently dismissing her. She stepped back, arms folded, still watching me with that mix of concern and frustration.

Steve walked toward me, slow and deliberate, his gaze never leaving mine. When he finally stopped in front of me, his expression was hard to read. For a moment, I wasn’t sure if he was going to explode or just brush the whole thing off.

"You need to be careful, Kiwi," he said, his voice low, controlled. "I don’t want you getting hurt. People aren’t always what they seem."

It felt like a warning, like something unsaid was lingering beneath his words. I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. "I know," I replied, my voice barely a whisper.

Steve studied me for a moment longer, his eyes scanning my face like he was looking for something, an answer, maybe, or some kind of reassurance. Then, without another word, he turned disappearing into his room.

The door clicked shut, and the silence in the villa felt suffocating. Natasha let out a long breath, rubbing her temples. "Look, just... be smart, okay?" she muttered, her earlier fire gone, replaced with a kind of resignation.

I didn’t say anything. I just nodded and headed to my own room, my mind swirling with thoughts I couldn’t quite sort out. Steve’s warning echoed in my head, but more than that, the way he looked at me, like I was fragile, like I needed protection, made my skin crawl.

It wasn’t until I was alone in my room, sitting on the edge of my bed, that I realized something felt off. The way Steve and Natasha had reacted to Lloyd.

As I lay down, pulling the covers over myself, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the carefree freedom I’d felt with Lloyd earlier that day was slipping through my fingers.

By the end of the third week, Tony got wind of a party happening at one of the nearby villas, and just like that, we were off.

The villa was buzzing with energy that night, music thumped through the walls, laughter spilled out from every corner, and the air was thick with the scent of tropical drinks and perfume. It was another party, another scene I never quite felt I belonged in, but I went along with it, trying to blend in with the group.

Steve, of course, had stuck to my side all night, possessively hovering like a shadow, making sure I didn’t stray too far. It was exhausting. I excused myself to grab another drink, slipping out from under his watchful eye and wandering into the crowd.

That’s when I saw him, Lloyd, standing near the back patio, his easy smile lighting up his face as he spoke to a group of strangers. He spotted me, and that smile only widened, sending a warmth through me that I hadn’t realized I needed.

"Well, if it isn’t my favorite jet ski partner," he teased as I approached, his voice dripping with the playful sarcasm I’d grown to enjoy.

I chuckled, the tension I’d been carrying with me all night melting away in his presence. “You better watch it,” I replied. “I might start to think you actually like me.”

Lloyd’s dark eyes sparkled with amusement, his crooked grin making my stomach flutter. “Maybe I do,” he said, his tone low but light. His teasing was always edged with something deeper, something that made my heart race in ways I hadn’t felt in a long time.

We wandered off to the quieter section of the party, near the beach where the sound of the waves mixed with the distant hum of the party.

“So, how’d you end up with Steve and the wealth squad?” Lloyd asked, half-smiling, his tone playful but curious. “I’ve been wondering that since we met,”

“University,” I answered, not really thinking about it. When he paused, waiting for more, I sighed and gave in to the full story. “I shared a class with Sharon. We sat next to each other, and she needed help with her assignments. So, I helped. Help eventually turned into me actually doing her assignments, and eventually Jane and Pepper’s.”

Lloyd raised an eyebrow, but didn’t interrupt.

“Natasha never needed help,” I added, almost like it mattered somehow. “Anyway, Sharon thought she could trade friendship for completed homework. And me, being as foolish as I was, allowed it.

Lloyd tilted his head, studying me for a moment. I could feel his gaze, but I kept talking, needing to get it all out.

“During my last year at University, I was overwhelmed, exams, projects, papers. You name it. And for some reason, Sharon couldn’t understand that I needed to prioritize myself. She felt betrayed, like I was supposed to keep sacrificing my sanity for her. So, she dropped me, just like that.”

Lloyd frowned, his brow furrowing as if trying to piece it all together. “That sucks, but… why are you here with them now?”

I shrugged, feeling the familiar weight of the answer pressing on me. “Sharon called me out of the blue, invited me on this trip. I declined at first, but things… weren’t going so great at home. I lost my job, had to move back in with my parents, and they were driving me insane. So, I caved. Figured one month in the Maldives was better than staying at home.”

Lloyd nodded slowly, leaning back against the railing, “Seems like you’ve been through it.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, glancing back at the crowd inside. “I guess you could say that.”

I didn’t know what I was expecting when I told Lloyd everything. Maybe I just needed someone to hear it without judgment. Without the baggage of knowing all the players involved. And somehow, Lloyd, with his laid-back charm and sharp sense of humor, made it easier to say out loud.

The silence between us lingered for a moment, comfortable yet loaded, before he spoke again. “Well, for what it’s worth, you don’t seem like the kind of person who needs to be hanging out with people like them.”

I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “Yeah, well, sometimes you just… end up where you are, I guess.”

At one point, he leaned in, brushing a lock of hair away from my face, his fingers grazing my skin. The touch sent a shiver down my spine, and for the first time in a while, I felt my breath catch in my throat.

Before we could go further, I felt it, the shift in the air, like a dark cloud had rolled in. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

Steve.

His presence was suffocating, a heavy weight that pressed down on me the moment he appeared. “Lloyd, what a coincidence,” Steve greeted him with that smile that didn’t reach his eyes. There was something colder, more calculated in his tone. He stepped closer, his gaze locked on me. “Mind if I borrow Kiwi for a second?”

"Does she want to be borrowed?" Lloyd’s voice was calm, yet irritated but the tension between them was almost palpable. I could feel his eyes on me, silently asking for confirmation.

The truth? I didn’t. I didn’t want to go anywhere with Steve. But deep down, I knew that Steve had no problem escalating a situation if it didn’t go his way. And I didn’t want to drag Lloyd into that mess. So, I laid my hand on Lloyd’s arm, a silent apology in my eyes as I told him, “I’ll be back.” I threw Steve a dirty look, hoping he'd understand this wasn't going to go the way he wanted.

Before I could move, Steve’s hand was already around my wrist, his grip firm, almost possessive. He pulled me aside, his expression unreadable, but the tightness in his jaw betrayed the calm exterior he was trying to maintain.

I yanked my arm back, glaring at him. Steve didn’t flinch, his grip tightening just enough to remind me who held the power.

“What are you doing with him?” Steve’s voice was low, controlled, but there was an edge that made my skin prickle. His grip on my wrist didn’t loosen.

I yanked my hand back, glaring at him. “I’m just talking to him, Steve. What’s your problem?”

“He’s not good for you, Kiwi-” His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing slightly. As if he was holding back.

I stared at him, anger rising in my chest. “You don’t get to decide who’s good for me, Steve. This isn’t your call.”

Steve’s smile returned, but it was colder now, the kind that sent chills down my spine. “Okay,” he said lightly, stepping back. His voice was casual, too casual. “I won’t get in your way.” He gave me a short nod before turning and walking back toward the villa.

I watched him go, relief washing over me, thinking that the confrontation was over. But deep down, something felt off. Steve had let it go too easily.

I returned to Lloyd, “Seems, like he needs a good pegging.” He said his humor cutting through the tension like a breath of fresh air, and I managed to shake off the strange encounter with Steve. For the rest of the night, I focused on Lloyd, laughing and joking as we wandered along the beach. It felt good…natural. For once, I didn’t feel like I was being suffocated by Steve’s presence.

But a few days later, everything changed.

Lloyd stopped texting. No calls, no messages. I tried reaching out, but my calls went straight to voicemail. It was like he’d vanished.

Worried, I went back to his villa, hoping to get some explanation. But when I got there, it was empty. A neighbor mentioned he’d left abruptly, something about family issues overseas, but it didn’t sit right with me. I wanted to believe it was just bad timing, but the nagging feeling in my gut told me otherwise.

Steve didn’t miss a beat. He swooped back into my life, acting as though nothing had happened, as though Lloyd’s sudden disappearance was just a coincidence. He was all concerned and caring, making sure I was "okay." His concern seemed genuine, but deep down, I knew the truth.

That night, I drowned my guilt in bottles, one after another, trying to numb the sick feeling churning in my stomach. I couldn’t stop thinking about Lloyd. What happened to him? Questions swirled in my mind, but the alcohol silenced them for a while, turning everything into a hazy blur.

Eventually, the weight of the night pulled me under, and I passed out, letting the booze take over completely.

When I woke up, my head was pounding, the light creeping through the curtains like needles stabbing at my skull. I groaned, rolling over in bed, but the movement made me realize something was off. My body was stiff, every muscle sore like I’d been through a marathon I didn’t remember running, and my skin felt so sticky.

I tried to stretch, but even that felt like a challenge, my limbs heavy and resistant. My mind was still foggy, disoriented from the drinks and... something else.

Sitting up slowly, I pressed my hands to my temples, trying to will the pounding headache away. The room was spinning slightly, the events of last night scattered like broken puzzle pieces in my brain.

I was in my own bed, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

I flopped back down on my bed, pulling the blanket up to my chin, trying to shake off the throbbing headache pounding through my skull. Staying in seemed like the best option today. I just hoped Steve wouldn’t give me a hard time about it, especially with how overbearing he’d been lately.

A knock came at the door, and before I could respond, Steve walked in holding a bowl of what looked like soup. I sat up slightly, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Peace offering,” he said with a small smile, placing the bowl on the nightstand for a moment. “I wanted to apologize... for, you know, how I’ve been acting on this trip.”

I blinked at him, unsure where this was going. My headache was making it hard to focus, but his tone seemed genuine.

Steve sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I just... I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, Kiwi. You’re a good friend, and I guess I’ve gotten a little... overprotective. It wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable.”

He was full of so much shit. I wasn’t sure what to say, and in the haze of my headache, I couldn’t really be mad at him. I just needed to make it through this trip, since he refused to let me go back home, so I just played nice.

I gave him a tired smile, the best I could manage with my pounding head. “Thanks, Steve. I appreciate that.”

“Let me feed you,” he said suddenly, picking up the bowl of soup again.

“What?” I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have to, just put it on the nightstand. I’ll drink it when I’m ready.”

Steve shook his head, already pulling up a desk chair beside me. “Nah, it’s best when it’s still warm. You need to get it in you now.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but honestly, I didn’t have the energy to argue. My head felt like it was splitting in two. I just sighed and let him lift the spoon to my lips. The soup was surprisingly good, and with each sip, I felt the warmth spread through my chest, easing the discomfort.

After a few spoonful’s, I glanced up at him. “Why don’t you take care of your other friends like this when they’re hungover?”

He chuckled. “Because hangovers aren’t a common thing for you, Kiwi. Figured you’re not used to this.”

I nodded. He wasn’t wrong. I rarely drank, and when I did, it was never enough to leave me like this. Reluctantly, I let him keep feeding me until the bowl was empty. My exhaustion was creeping in fast, making it hard to keep my eyes open.

“Get some rest,” Steve said softly, tucking the blankets around me and leaning down to kiss my forehead. “Things are about to get busy soon.”

I drowsily nodded, already half-asleep, as I felt the weight of the day pull me under. I drifted off, wondering what he meant by that, but too tired to care for now.

Our final week in the Maldives felt like a blur. I was constantly drifting in and out of consciousness, my body heavy, my words thick in my throat whenever I tried to speak. Everything felt... off. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was wrong, but Bruce chalked it up to lethargy.

“You’re just not used to prolonged rest, Kiwi,” he explained one morning when I asked why I felt so sluggish. “This vacation has you in a constant state of rest. Once you get home and start working again, everything will balance out.”

I nodded weakly, hoping he was right. But something deep down told me this wasn’t just about too much rest. I felt trapped in my own body, like I was dragging myself through every day, unable to fully engage with anything or anyone.

Steve, ever the attentive one, waited on me hand and foot, giving me these green energy smoothies every morning. "It’ll help pick you up," he’d say with that confident smile of his. But after days of drinking them, I didn’t feel any better. In fact, I felt worse. I told him as much one day, mentioning what Bruce had said about lethargy and how this constant dragging feeling couldn’t be good for me.

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve replied smoothly, brushing off my concerns as he squeezed my hand. He kept that hand-holding thing going all week, dragging me around like I was some ragdoll. And I let him. I didn’t have the energy to resist. The thought of doing anything on my own felt impossible. I was just waiting for the vacation to be over, to escape the fog that had settled over me.

At night, I slept like a rock. But when morning came, my body still felt heavy, weighed down like someone had filled me with stones. The soreness lingered, making even the simplest movement feel like a chore.

Before I knew it, the vacation was over, and I was sitting next to Steve on his private jet, heading back home. I stared out of the window, my eyes glazed over, the hum of the plane’s engine doing nothing to soothe the anxiety bubbling inside me. I wasn’t sure how I was going to make it home. I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to stand once we landed, let alone call an Uber or deal with my parents.

The plane landed, but I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My body felt so heavy, and everything around me seemed to swim in and out of focus. I felt myself being shifted, my body moving without me fully realizing it. Someone was lifting me, but it was all so hazy, like I was watching it from somewhere far away.

“It’s okay, you’re fine,” a voice whispered near my ear. Steve’s voice.

I wanted to say something, to ask what was happening, but my mouth wouldn’t cooperate. Everything was slipping away from me, and I could only hope that whatever was happening... I’d wake up from it soon.

When the fog finally lifted, I found myself in a bed that wasn’t mine, in a room I didn’t recognize. The fancy digital clock on the nightstand glowed 10:53 a.m., and before I could fully comprehend what was happening, a pair of arms wrapped around me, pulling me into a warm body. My heart raced as I turned to see who it was, and there was Steve, eyes closed, snoring softly, his face inches from mine.

I blinked, trying to shake off the remaining haze. “Steve?” I called out, nudging him slightly. “Steve, wake up.”

He stirred, stretching with a loud yawn before cracking open one eye. "Morning," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

“Where... where am I? What’s going on?” I asked, my voice still groggy but clearer than it had been in days.

Steve stretched again, his arm lazily draping across me. “You knocked out on the plane,” he explained. “So, I brought you to my house. I didn’t know where you lived.”

I sat up a little, still disoriented. “Why didn’t you just look at my ID?”

There was a pause, then a look of realization flashed across his face. “You know, I didn’t think of that.

I blinked at him, feeling a strange mixture of exhaustion and clarity wash over me. Something didn’t feel right, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I glanced down, suddenly noticing that I was wearing one of the nighties I’d packed for the vacation, with no underwear, sticky skin and sore muscle. My eyes darted to Steve, and that’s when I realized he was only in his boxers.

“Steve...” I started slowly, “who changed my clothes?”

He gave me an incredulous look, raising an eyebrow as if the question was ridiculous. “You did,” he said matter-of-factly.

I froze. I didn’t remember that. Not even a little. But what reason did I have to doubt him? My mind still felt like it was piecing itself back together after the past week.

I swallowed hard, nodding slightly, though the knot in my stomach grew tighter. “Okay... then why are you in your boxers?”

Steve smirked, giving a nonchalant shrug. “I usually sleep naked when I’m in my own bed. But I put on the boxers, you know, as a courtesy.”

I nodded again, more out of reflex than understanding. “Right...” I muttered, pushing the covers off me and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. “Where’s your bathroom?”

Steve pointed lazily to a door in the corner of the room, where the window met the wall. I wasted no time getting up and heading toward it, my head buzzing with too many thoughts to process.

As soon as the bathroom door closed behind me, I leaned against the sink and stared at my reflection in the mirror. I felt a panic rising in my chest. I didn’t remember changing. I didn’t remember much of anything after that last week. And now I was in Steve’s house, in Steve’s bed... with Steve.

I pressed my palms against the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a mess, and my eyes were still heavy with exhaustion.

I blinked a few times, trying to process everything. How did I end up here? And in my nighty, no less? It didn’t add up. The last clear memory I had was from the plane. Everything after that was a foggy blur.

"Okay, Kiwi, calm down," I whispered to myself. "You can figure this out."

I shook my head, trying to focus. I needed to get out of here. I needed to clear my head and figure out what was really going on. But as I stared at my reflection, my gut twisted with uncertainty.

I couldn’t just ignore the way Steve had been acting over at the Maldives, how close he had gotten, how possessive he seemed. And now this? Him brushing off that he didn’t know where I lived? When I was sure it would take nothing to figure out.

I splashed cold water on my face, hoping it would wake me up from this strange feeling  that seemed to linger. I had to get a grip on the situation.

When I walked back out, Steve was still lying in his bed, stretched out, looking way too comfortable. "You, okay?" he asked, his voice lazy, like none of this was out of the ordinary.

I forced a smile. "Yeah, just needed a minute."

"Good," he replied, sitting up and stretching. "We’ve got breakfast downstairs if you’re hungry."

I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything more.

Steve moved from the bed, stretching his arms with a casualness that made my skin crawl. He grabbed a robe from a nearby chair and slid it on before turning to me, his eyes lingering on me just a second too long. It wasn’t subtle, he looked me up and down before pulling out another robe and handing it to me.

“Here, put this on,” he said, his tone soft but something about it made me feel like I didn’t really have a choice.

I slipped it on, trying not to think too much about his gaze. The fabric was smooth, probably the most expensive thing I’d ever worn. But it didn’t feel comforting; it felt like a reminder of just how far out of my element I was.

Before I could say anything, Steve was by my side, grabbing my hand in a way that was far too intimate. His grip was firm, not forceful, but it left me no room to pull away. He led me out of the room, his massive mansion unfolding before me as we moved through the wide corridors.

The grand staircase was as intimidating as it was beautiful, spiraling down into what felt like the heart of the house. My mind was still spinning from everything, how I’d ended up here, the fog that had clouded my memory for what felt like weeks, and now, Steve’s hand holding mine felt like it was tethering me to this strange reality.

We descended into the dining room, which was, of course, massive. The table was already set, food arranged like we were about to attend a banquet. I could smell eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, and some other dishes I didn’t even recognize. It all looked like something straight out of a magazine.

Steve pulled out a chair for me, still holding that unreadable expression on his face. I sat down slowly, trying to process everything. He slid into the chair right next to me, far closer than necessary, and for a second, I felt the weight of his presence more than the meal in front of me.

“Go ahead,” Steve said, gesturing to the food. “You need to eat after the week you’ve had.”

I swallowed hard, my appetite completely gone despite the feast in front of me. But I picked up a fork anyway, feeling his eyes on me the whole time. I had no idea how I was going to make it through this breakfast, or what Steve expected from me next.

Steve picked up a small tart and brought it toward me. I reached out to grab it, but just as my fingers brushed it, he pulled it away, holding it in front of my mouth instead, his eyes expectant. The gesture was so casual, like this was normal, so I awkwardly leaned forward and allowed him to feed me. The tart was sweet, but I barely tasted it, my discomfort overpowering everything else.

He set the other piece down and resumed eating his own meal as if nothing strange had just happened. I, on the other hand, felt my shoulders tense up as I silently chewed, trying to make sense of what this morning was becoming.

After a few moments of silence, Steve spoke again, this time in a tone that made me wary. "So, I have news."

I glanced at him, unsure what to expect. "Okay..." I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I spoke to my father," Steve began, "and unfortunately, he's not interested in hiring for any entry-level positions in his finance department right now."

The news hit me like a brick. My stomach dropped, I had forgotten that I asked him to do that, and though I knew it was good that I didn’t have to stick around Steve, I really could have used that job. My shoulders slumped as that familiar wave of defeat washed over me.

But before I could sink any deeper into that feeling, Steve’s hand was on my cheek, gently caressing my skin. “Hey, don’t look so down. I’m not done yet,” he said, his voice soft but commanding. “I managed to get you an opportunity elsewhere. Proper salary, full benefits.”

I perked up, my heart lifting at the words. “Really?” I asked, excitement creeping in. I hadn’t expected a follow-up.

Steve smiled, the kind of smile that felt both comforting and unsettling at the same time. “Yeah, really. You know my father’s been mentoring me to take over his company, right? Well, next quarter, I’ll have a proper position. And with that position, I’m going to need a few resources.” He paused, his smile widening. “Congratulations, you’re going to be my new PA.”

I blinked, the words not quite sinking in at first. “Personal assistant?” I repeated, taken aback. It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I thought of a job with a ‘proper salary.’ But then again, I was in no position to be picky.

“Personal assistant,” he confirmed, nodding.

I sat there, unsure of how to feel. The idea of working directly under Steve made me uneasy, especially after everything that had happened on this trip. But at the same time... I couldn’t afford to turn this down. Not now. Not with my parents breathing down my neck, and no other job prospects on the horizon. Maybe, just maybe, this could lead to something more. Soon, enough I’ll find myself in a position where I’ll no longer need Steve and I could just leave.

“So,” Steve said, interrupting my thoughts, “what do you think?”

I hesitated, taking a deep breath before nodding. “Okay,” I finally said, unsure of whether I was convincing him or myself.

Steve clapped his hands together, his excitement palpable. “Awesome. We’ll get you set up before the start of the new quarter, then.”

He picked up the rest of the tart he’d fed me earlier and brought it to my lips again. I leaned forward to take a bite, but a small drop of fruit glaze fell onto my chin. Before I could react, Steve wiped it away with his thumb and, without breaking eye contact, licked it off.

Authors Note: I'm not gonna lie. This was my least favorite chapter. I think it may have to do with the fact that it had the most editing done. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy it.

Weeks have passed since that day in Steve’s office. Since the moment he made it clear that I wasn’t getting my job back, clear that he wasn’t interested in me having any semblance of independence. I should’ve expected it.

"You’ve proven you can’t be trusted with independence," he said, his voice cool, calculated. "Besides, you don’t need a job, I’ll take care of you."

And just like that, my autonomy vanished.

Steve didn’t need to be subtle anymore. His control became more invasive, suffocating. He no longer pretended to respect boundaries, nor did he need to. I had none. I was his in every sense of the word. He was still affectionate, too affectionate even. The type of affection, where, if someone saw us, they’d think we were dating. They’d think I was happy. He was always holding me, touching me, pulling me close. His arm was constantly around my waist when we were out, his hand resting on my thigh when we were seated.

He’d kiss me on the forehead as if I was something precious to him, murmur sweet words, his voice soft, warm, almost tender. But I wasn’t fooled, not anymore. Those moments weren’t about love, they were about presenting an image.

 And I’d be remised if I said I was ok with never having access to my freedom again.

Steve eventually went public with our relationship, something that surprised me. I thought he’d want to keep me hidden away, a dirty little secret in his twisted world. But no, he paraded me around like a trophy, introducing me to everyone he knew. His parents, his cousins, business partners, friends outside of the one I knew from University.

"Kiwi’s part of the family now," he’d say, pulling me closer to him, his arm wrapped tightly around me. The smiles they gave me were hollow, polite. I could see through them, though. They didn’t care. I was just another piece of Steve’s puzzle, another pawn in his game.

To make everything worse, Steve was insatiable, every moment he could have me he would. Anywhere at any time. It didn’t matter what I was preoccupied with, when he wanted it, he took it. Rough. Animalistic. Unhinged. He’d take what he wanted, his hands gripping me too tightly, his movements frantic, desperate. And when it was all done, he’d wrap his arms around me and pull me in close, like I was something fragile. He’d nuzzle his face into my neck, murmuring soft words against my skin, his breath warm and steady.

 There were days where I could convince myself that this was comforting.

The nausea came not long after he made me his little stay-at-home girlfriend. At first, it was subtle, just a bit of queasiness that I chalked up to stress. But it didn’t go away. Days passed, then weeks, but the nausea remained, a constant weight in my stomach that I couldn’t shake. I told myself it was just my body reacting to my situation, to the reality of my life now.

So, I dealt with it. What else could I do? I didn’t have a job to go to. I had nowhere to escape, no one to talk to. Steve was all I had. So, I stayed in bed most days, curled up under the blankets, waiting for the feeling to pass.

Then it became unbearable. I couldn’t shake it, and it seemed to follow me everywhere. It had gotten so bad that, when Steve’s mother, Sarah, invited me to a tea party out at a family farm they’d owned, I could barely manage a few sips before the overwhelming combination of teas, the scents of freshly cut grass, and the earthy smells from the farm made my stomach churn violently.

I tried to excuse myself from the group, hoping to slip away without anyone noticing. But before I could find a place to hide, I felt my stomach heave, and in a humiliating rush, I vomited right onto the ground. I barely had time to register the horror on Sarah’s face before everything went black.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. The sterile scent of antiseptic hit my nose first, and as I blinked, trying to clear the fog in my head, I noticed Steve sitting beside me, his mother next to him.

"Thank God, you’re awake," Steve’s voice cut through the haze, and I felt his hand squeezing mine. His eyes, usually so hard and calculating, were wide with worry. Even Sarah looked genuinely shaken.

After what felt like hours, the doctor finally came in. He looked between the three of us, his expression unreadable. My stomach twisted in knots as I braced for whatever news he was about to deliver.

"You’re pregnant," he said.

I wanted to cry, I was hoping that this wasn’t the case, that I’d caught a bug not a baby.

Sarah immediately let out a gleeful squeal, her face breaking into a wide smile as she clapped excitedly. She reached over giving me an excite hug, murmuring congratulations through her tears. Steve’s grip on my hand tightened waiting for his mother to finish her mini-celebration before pulling me into his arms.

I should have felt joy, excitement, even fear. But all I felt was overwhelming dread. The tears came before I could stop them, silent at first, but then harder, uncontrollable. My body trembled in Steve’s arms, the reality of it crashing down on me like a tidal wave. I had lost everything, and now, I had a life was growing inside me, locking me further into a future I had no say in.

Steve’s mother excused herself from the room, saying something about calling Joseph, her husband, to share the good news. As soon as the door clicked shut, Steve leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear.

"Now there’s really no getting away, is there?" he whispered.

His words sent a chill down my spine, and I sobbed harder, the weight of everything crashing down.

He held me tighter, shushing sounds coming from him as he rubbed my back in a soothing motion.

“It’s ok” he whispered “Daddy’s here,”

That night, back at the mansion, Steve was relentless, but gentle in his lovemaking. He wasn’t rough like he was sometimes. Instead, he took his time, making sure I reached my own climax before he even began to chase his. Every touch, every kiss, was calculated, like he was marking me as his own, like he was reminding me of the hold he had over me.

And when it was over, when I was spent and exhausted, Steve pulled me into his chest, his hands roaming softly over my belly. His fingers traced delicate circles, and I could feel the weight of the moment settling between us.

"Ian," he said suddenly, his voice quiet in the darkened room.

I turned my head slightly, confused. "What?"

"If it’s a boy," he murmured, his fingers still caressing my stomach. "I want to name him Ian."

I swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump forming in my throat. I could feel the tears threatening to spill again, but I fought them back. "What if it’s a girl?" I asked, my voice small.

Steve shrugged lazily, his hand never leaving my belly. "Then, I’ll let you pick the name."

His casual tone, the ease with which he spoke, made me feel so small. Like this was all just another part of his game.

The name he’d chosen—*Ian*—was nice enough, strong, simple.

But as I lay in the darkness, I couldn’t help but think about how much I’d like the name Genevieve, it had always been a favorite of mine, soft and elegant, with just a hint of strength beneath the surface.

Genevieve.

The thought of it made me feel...something. Maybe it was the last bit of control I had left, a small decision that still felt like my own.

“You know what we have to do now right?”

“I give him a confused look?”

“Get Married,”

I’m taken aback by his response.

“Preferably before baby Ian gets here”

Steve wasted no time setting up the wedding.

Initially, he wanted a simple court ceremony, but when Sarah caught wind of his plans, she insisted on a traditional wedding. She even offered to plan the whole thing, promising it would be ready before baby Ian arrived. Within months, Sarah had everything in motion, with my mother working alongside her, squashing any worries about the timeline.

For those months, I felt like I was on autopilot, struggling to keep up with their suggestions and ideas. I was close to letting them make all the decisions, but when I saw the wedding dresses, they’d chosen for me to choose from, I knew I needed to step in and reign them in a bit.

Natasha, Jane, and Pepper were my bridesmaids and my cousin Peach my maid of honor, we weren’t super close, but we knew each other well enough.

Sharon's name wasn’t even mentioned, and anytime I tried to bring her up, Natasha would shut me down with a curt, “Sharon’s an heiress with a silver spoon, she’ll always land on her feet.” Her dismissiveness left me with questions, but I let it go, focusing on the chaos of the planning instead.

The wedding took place just shy of my hitting five months into the pregnancy.

My mother, Sarah and I settled on an empire-waist wedding gown with a fitted bodice that ended just beneath my bust, blooming into a voluminous, fluffy skirt made of layers of soft tulle and satin to discreetly hide my baby bump. The gown featured an off-the-shoulders neckline with thick, sculpted sleeves shaped into intricate rose designs that cascaded down my arms. It had the touch of artistry and class Sarah and my mom insisted on, but it was simple enough to feel like me.

The day itself was a whirlwind. Everyone was there my family, his family and friends Bucky was Steve’s Man of Honor, and seemed to bring Lemon along as his plus one with Bruce, Thor, and Tony as his groomsmen. I was surprised Peter hadn’t taken part in the wedding, choosing to arrive as a guest with Clementine by his side, the two seemingly inseparable.

At least a hundred people attended, probably more. It was dizzying, and during the reception, I needed a moment to breathe.

I slipped into the mansion to gather myself, but in true Steve fashion, he followed. I allowed it, his presence was familiar, even if I just needed quiet. But as soon as we stepped inside, a familiar voice rang out:

“Congratulations to the lucky couple.”

I turned to find Lloyd walking toward us, a woman beside him.

“Lloyd…” Steve’s tone was sharp, a clear warning.

“What?” Lloyd responded, before flashing me a grin. “Oh, this is my girl, Apricot,” he said, gesturing to the woman next to him.

Apricot gave Lloyd a strange look but then turned to me with the biggest smile. “It’s lovely to meet you, and congratulations,” she said, shaking my hand excitedly. “I must say, you look absolutely gorgeous, almost like I’m looking at a real-life princess.”

Her compliment made me blush.

“W-what?” I stammered, still trying to process the situation.

“I’m Lloyd Hansen,” he said, smirking. “Son of Mary Hansen and bastard of Patrick Rogers, a.k.a. the cousin of Rogers and Co. heir, Steve Rogers.”

My mind raced as pieces clicked into place, though some were still missing.

Lloyd raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, Steve started the game, I just played along.”

“What are you talking about?” Apricot asked, clearly confused, but Lloyd ignored her.

Instead, he turned to me and grinned. “I just wish I’d gotten a taste of you, before having to leave,” he said, his tone dripping with malice.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Apricot snapped, glaring at him.

“Nothing, just an inside joke,” Lloyd replied casually.

Steve grabbed my hand and started pulling me away. I was still reeling, stunned by what had just happened, and no closer to understanding it all.

Behind us, I could hear Apricot tearing into Lloyd. “No, it fucking wasn’t! Why the hell would you say that to her, you asshole?”

“Babe, it’s no big deal,” Lloyd tried to placate her.

“Fuck you—you’re a piece of work, you shitpie,” she shot back, storming off as Lloyd hurried to follow her.

“Babe!” he called after her, his voice fading as Steve led me further into the mansion.

“You acted like you didn’t know him,” I said, my voice tight with frustration. “I thought he was just some random guy renting the villa next to us.”

“He was just being an asshole,” Steve muttered, pulling me toward a quieter corner of the mansion.

When we were out of sight, I yanked my arm free and slapped him across the face.

“What about you?” I yelled, my voice shaking.

Steve staggered back, shocked, his hand instinctively brushing his cheek as he adjusted his suit.

“Did everyone else know?” I demanded, my chest heaving.

He didn’t say anything. His face was unreadable, his silence deafening.

“Of course,” I said bitterly, my anger morphing into humiliation. “I was the only idiot who didn’t.”

I felt so foolish. What I thought was a genuine connection turned out to be a farce. Played again. When would I ever learn?

Steve finally broke the silence. “Clearly, me and him are not cut from the same cloth.”

“And yet somehow, you’re tailored to the same design,” I shot back.

He nodded slowly, licking his lips like he was piecing something together. Before I could react, I felt the cold wall behind me. His touch was firm but deliberate, a mix of anger and restraint.

“Right now, you’re lucky you’re pregnant with my baby,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Otherwise, the things I’d do to you…”

“Why did you pretend not to know him?” I asked, cutting him off, my eyes locking with his.

Steve stared at me, something unreadable in his gaze. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “But it doesn’t matter.”

He grabbed my hand, pulling me back toward the reception. “We should go back.”

Once we returned, I avoided him entirely, busying myself with conversations, pretending he didn’t exist. Lloyd and Apricot were nowhere to be found, I figured they left after Lloyd dropped the bomb on us.  I even distanced myself from my bridesmaids, choosing instead to focus on Peach, who was convinced Jane had some kind of vendetta against her.

“She does have snake-like tendencies,” I told her with a shrug when she pressed for details. But when she pried for more, I shut her down. There was no need to drag family into this drama.

As the night wound down and the reception came to an end, it was time for the send-off. I made my way around, hugging and saying goodbye to everyone I knew and loved, saving my parents for last.

“I’m proud of you, kid,” my dad said, his voice unusually soft.

I froze. I couldn’t remember the last time—or any time—he’d said that. My immediate thought was that he’d had a stroke.

“You’re proud?” I asked, my disbelief evident. Proud of what? My pregnancy? My marriage out of wedlock?

“Well, you know we were always so worried about your future,” my mom chimed in. “You always had a hard time following through with things.”

Dad nodded in agreement. “Even when you graduated, you never practiced your degree. At least now we know you’re going to be okay.”

I thanked them, forcing a smile as I hugged them again, but their words sat heavy in my chest as Steve  walked me to the waiting limo.

The one time my parents told me they were proud of me, and it wasn’t even about me.

Steve, as he had been throughout my pregnancy, since we found out I had conceived, stayed by my side. He had been so attentive during the last few months, making sure I had everything I needed. When he wasn’t physically attached to me by the hip, his mother or mine, was there to pick up the slack. Between the three of them, I felt completely suffocated.

And don’t think that just because I was pregnant, all sexual activities had ceased. No, in fact, the news of my pregnancy seemed to fuel more of them. It didn’t matter where or when, Steve was always in the mood. I had no energy to fight it, and as my body changed, it seemed to excite him more. There was no escape, even during what should’ve been my most vulnerable moments.

He became more involved after we found out the baby would be a boy. I had sunk into a deep depression after the news, silently mourning the loss of my dreams of having a daughter, of having Genevieve. Steve must have sensed it because instead of hiring professionals to design and build the baby’s room like he originally planned, he insisted that we do it ourselves. Every piece of furniture we picked out, every tiny decoration for Baby Ian’s room, helped chip away at my sadness. Bit by bit, with every little purchase, I felt a spark of excitement grow inside me.

But despite all of the unrelenting pampering, Baby Ian seemed to know exactly when he was supposed to make his grand entrance. The night before his due date, he made a huge fuss. My water broke while Steve and I were in the middle of building his crib. The next thing I knew, we were at the hospital, waiting for my body to dilate to the appropriate size.

When Ian was born—9 pounds and 2 ounces—I couldn’t believe it. As they placed him in my arms, my heart fluttered. It hit me all at once that Ian was just as much *my* baby as he was Steve’s. He was perfect. All the fear, all the resentment I had been carrying throughout my pregnancy seemed to disappear as soon as they placed him in my arms.