The Christmas He Lost Her

I took some hangover meds and headed to the mansion's little bar to find Leon.

Through the glass window, I saw him inside with his buddies.

"Leon, whoever wins the draw is just you saying the word. Wynne's been the punchline for five years. Aren't you worried she'll figure out you've been rigging it the whole time?"

My hand froze on the doorknob.

My chest tightened.

Leon sounded totally unconcerned.

"She still doesn't know how to be Mrs. Fabian. How could I bring her to my family's estate? And even if she finds out, so what? I'll sweet-talk her a little. She won't make a fuss."

The heated floor warmed my feet, but the rest of me felt like I'd dropped into an ice pit. I shivered.

All the tricks I'd used trying to win that draw...

Turns out I was the joke.

"Maybe Wynne won't make a fuss," someone said. "But what about her family?"

Leon paused. Then his voice came back, easy and sure.

"They're too far away. The Wronskis can't do anything."

Three thousand kilometers lay between Nowevik and Solmierz.

The distance—and everything I'd crossed for love at eighteen—had become the reason people looked down on me.

I let go of the doorknob and smiled at my own stupidity. Bitter.

I turned to leave.

The door swung open from the inside.

Chloe stepped out holding two bottles of wine. Surprise flashed across her face, then melted into sweetness. "Didn't expect you here too. Come in and join us."

Before I could refuse, she shoved me inside.

I stumbled. The hangover meds slipped from my hand and scattered across the floor.

Chloe casually dropped onto Leon's lap and sighed.

"You're so thoughtful. I'm not like that. I just think Leon holds his liquor well, so I always make him drink a couple more glasses."

Leon looked pleased and reached for the medicine.

I kept my face cold, ignored his hand, and dumped the pills in the trash.

"If his tolerance's that good, he probably doesn't need hangover meds."

Leon's hand froze midair.

Like payback, he slid his hand into Chloe's collar. "Baby, you're right. I can handle my liquor. I don't need certain people worrying about me."

The room went stiff until someone suggested Truth or Dare.

The bottle spun... then stopped, pointing at Leon.

The guy asking the question looked between him and me.

"Pick a woman here to spend the night with."

I didn't react. I just stared at my phone.

Text from Bernard.

[Everything's ready. Christmas Eve, I'm taking you home.]

Before I could reply, my phone suddenly got knocked to the floor.

Leon grabbed my wrist. Anger flashed in his eyes, his grip tight enough to hurt. Then he sneered.

"I choose Chloe."

The room fell silent.

Every look thrown at me carried the same mix—mockery and pity.

Leon scooped Chloe into his arms. When he passed me, he paused, eyes sliding toward the master bedroom.

"Give us the master bedroom."

His tone made it clear. Not a request.

He knew I had severe germophobia.

I met his punishing stare and nodded, calm.

Then I opened a drawer, pulled out a sealed box of ultra-thin condoms, and set it on the cabinet beside them.

Quiet. Casual.

After that, I closed the door.

A slow breath left my chest.

Three days left.