Borrowed for one night

Chapter three

Good,” Sylvester said, satisfaction clear in his smile. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

He stood, already done with the conversation. “I’ll pick you up by six this evening. You can go now…my driver will drop you off.”

Stephanie nodded, her legs feeling strangely light as she left the office.

By the time she got to the coffee shop, she slipped back into routine like muscle memory. Orders came in nonstop. Cups clinked. Voices blended together. It was busy and she needed that. Needed the noise to drown out her thoughts.

But her mind kept spiraling anyway. Was she really going to do this?Sleep with a stranger?

Every time the question surfaced, she pushed it down, forcing a smile for customers, repeating orders, wiping counters. Anything to stay present. Anything not to think about the deal she made.

The hours blurred together. Before she knew it, the sky outside had begun to darken, and the shop had emptied out. She glanced at the clock behind the counter.

5:52 p.m…Her heart skipped….Each tick of the clock felt louder than the last, echoing in her chest. Six was coming. And with it, a decision she couldn’t take back.

Stephanie swallowed, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for her bag. Whatever was about to happen tonight… There was no turning back now.

The moment the clock struck six, Stephanie stepped outside.

Just like the night before, a bag was pulled over her head…but this time, they didn’t lift her. They made her walk. Each step felt heavier than the last until she was guided into the car and seated properly. Only then was the bag removed.

She blinked, sucking in a sharp breath, and turned a glare on Sylvester.

“Really?” she said dryly, wiping her face with a handkerchief. “I’m starting to think you’re in the line of kidnapping.”

Selvester chuckled, completely unbothered. “So sorry about that. It’s hard to find good help these days,” he said lightly.

She stared at him, unimpressed. “Shall we?” he added, that same cocky smile tugging at his lips.

After a brief pause, she gave a small nod. The car pulled away.

They hadn’t gone far when Sylvester spoke again. “I’ll need you to blindfold yourself.”

He handed her a silk tie. Stephanie hesitated for only a second before tying it over her eyes. No question, because at this point, resistance felt pointless.

And strangely enough, the moment darkness took over, her fear dulled…replaced by something far more dangerous…Acceptance.

The drive felt endless.

Time stretched and folded in on itself until she lost all sense of how far they’d gone or where she was being taken. Then the motion changed. The car slowed. Gradually, deliberately. Until it came to a complete stop.

Light seeped through the red silk, sharp and blinding, as a door opened.

Hands lifted her gently this time. Firm, careful. She didn’t resist. Minutes later, her feet touched the ground again, and she heard a door close behind her with a soft but final sound.

Her fingers reached up, pulling the tie away. Stephanie blinked. She was standing in the middle of a massive room. A king-size bed sat at the center, pristine and untouched, draped in white sheets that looked almost too perfect. Long white curtains cascaded from ceiling to floor, barely moving, as if the air itself was holding its breath.

There was no colour apart from white, everything was bathed in white. It felt unreal. Like a place designed to erase people rather than hold them.

Her heart began to pound..not from fear this time, but from the weight of what this room represented.

One night. She noticed the large white box at the edge of the bed. Curious and uneasy she walked closer and saw a note resting neatly on top.

‘Get yourself dressed. And remember…blow him away.’

—Sylvester.

She scoffed under her breath. “Unbelievable.”

Opening the box, her breath caught. Inside laid a red lingerie, delicate, daring, and far too revealing for her comfort. She stared at it for a long moment, shocked by how little fabric there was, how transparent it seemed.

Her heart began to race.

She inhaled deeply, then gathered the box and headed for the bathroom…With every second that passed, her pulse grew heavier, her thoughts louder.

Could she really do this? Would she really do this? She stared at her reflection in the mirror, hands trembling slightly.

This wasn’t just about revenge anymore. It was about crossing a line she could never recover from.

The lights went out. They went dim, as though the room itself hesitates..like it’s giving her one last chance to change her mind.

But,she didn't. She stood there in the darkness, her pulse loud in her ears. She could feel him before she saw him..his presence thick in the air, heavy, commanding. The silence stretches between them, fragile and trembling.

She took a step forward. Her hand finds his chest. Warm. Her fingers curl into fabric, gripping like it might anchor her, like if she let go she'll fall apart completely. He inhales sharply, and the sound does something to her..something she didn’t expect.

It wasn't desire, but recognition.

As if he knew she would come. As if this night was waiting for her long before she ever agreed to it.

His hands close around her waist with sudden certainty, firm and unyielding, and she gasps as her back meets the wall. The impact knocks the breath from her lungs, and for a heartbeat she panics . Her instincts scream at her to push him away, to run, to stop this before it becomes something she can never undo.

But he doesn’t hurt her. He holds her like he’s afraid she’ll vanish.

His forehead presses against hers, his breath uneven, his grip tight enough to ground her but not enough to bruise. There’s something fractured in the way he touches her...something desperate and unsteady, like she’s the last solid thing in a world that’s been breaking apart for years.

She closed her eyes... thinking of James and masking this sin as her getting her revenge. He carries her as though she weighs nothing, she wraps her legs around his torso on instinct. His face presses into her neck, her breath shaking, her teeth grazing his skin as if pain might keep her present.

He carries her to the bed, laying her down with a reverence that twists something painfully in her chest. The mattress dips beneath his weight, the sheets cool against her skin, and the darkness becomes intimate,protective.

She doesn’t open her eyes, because if she sees him…really see him…she might start thinking about things she has no right to feel. About the way his hands tremble, or how his breath stutters like he’s been holding it for years.

Every thrust was a reminder of James' betrayal; she had no right to enjoy it, because it was out of pure necessity. Every bite was passionate, every kiss lit her body in ways James could never yet feel wrong. She buried herself in his touch and kisses, living the moment because it was never going to happen again.

When dawn finally creeps into the room, pale and unforgiving, it hits her like a hammer, she was meant to leave before he woke up. She slid out of bed quietly, careful not to wake him. Her body felt different, like it didn’t belong to her anymore. Each step toward the bathroom feels heavier than the last.

Her eyes were dull, her lips were swollen. Her skin looked like it’s been touched too deeply by something it didn’t ask for.

She turned on the shower, the water was scalding, but she welcomed it, scrubbing her skin until it stinged, until her arms ached, until the sobs clawed their way out of her chest despite her best efforts to keep them down. She pressed her forehead against the tile and cried silently, because even her grief felt like it didn't belong to her anymore.

She stepped out of the shower, wore her dress. Even with her wet hair, she grabbed her cellphone and bag. She was about to leave when the number on the screen freezes her in place. Three million dollars.

For a moment, the world tilts. This can’t be real. Her hands start shaking. The money felt heavier than the guilt, heavier than the night itself. This is the price for her body.

she reached for her jewelry on the lampstand, desperate to put something familiar back on her skin…something that still belonged to her.

Then a hand closes around my wrist, her breath catches painfully in her throat. She didn't turn around at first. She couldn't. Slowly, he moves.

The mattress shifts as he sits up. The lamp casts a soft glow over his face as he turns toward her…and the expression she sees there stops her heart entirely.

Shock, pure, unfiltered disbelief. His grip tightens, not in anger, but in fear. His eyes widen as they search her face like they’re looking at something unbelievable.

“Seraphine,” he whispers. The name slices through her. She stiffened, her pulse roaring in her ears.

He stands abruptly, still holding her wrist, his gaze frantic now..dragging over every inch of her, as if confirming if she’s real, as if afraid the moment he blinks she’ll disappear.

“How is this possible?” he breathes, his voice breaking. The way he says the name makes it impossible to breathe.

Seraphine.

It wasn’t loud or dramatic, just soft,like a confession that’s been waiting years to be spoken out loud. The room seems to tilt on its axis, the walls pressing in as though they’ve heard it too and decided she didn’t belong anymore.

“That’s not my name,” she says quickly, too quickly. Her voice sounds thin, brittle. “You’ve made a mistake. I am Stephanie."

He ignored her, his eyes not leaving her face as he took a step closer. Then another. Not aggressive, worse… Careful. Like she might vanish if he moves too fast.

“Don’t,” I say, backing up instinctively until the dresser presses into her spine. Her heart racing, her palms slick with sweat… yet fighting the urge to explode.

“I was paid for one night,” she says, forcing the words out. “That’s all. Whoever you think I am…whatever you think you are feeling..it’s not real.”

He stops an arm’s length away from her.

“I knew those lips felt familiar,” he says quietly. “I knew it was you but didn’t want to believe.. Yu came back to me.”

her stomach drops.

“I’ve never been here before,” she snapped. “I don’t know you. I don’t know this room. And I sure as hell don’t know that name.”

For the first time, something sharp flickers across his face. Anger? No.

It was fear.

“You’re lying,” he says, but there’s no conviction in it. “Or you don’t remember. Either way, you’re not leaving… you are not leaving me again, I won’t let you.”

The words hit her like ice water. “I am leaving,” she says, pushing off the dresser, disgust rising hot and fast in her chest. Disgusted by his presence? Maybe Disgusted at herself? Yes.

She took a step toward the door… but he was faster… using his hand to hold the door “I waited three years,” he says, his voice breaking just enough to make my throat tighten. “I buried you. I watched them lower an empty coffin into the ground. And now you’re telling me this is nothing?”

“I am not her!” she shouted, the words ripping out of her before she could stop them. Her chest hurt. “I’m married, ” she said.That finally gets to him.

His hand drops from the door. “Married,” he repeats hollowly.

“Yes,” she says, her voice shaking now. “So whatever you think you see when you look at me...it’s wrong. I don't know you. I shouldn’t even be here. I shouldn’t have stayed. I shouldn’t…” her voice breaks. “I need to go.”

She reaches for the handle, but this time, he grabs her wrist “You can't be married.. you're my wife” he says, as if that settles it. “Your pulse…it’s the same place. Right here.”

His thumb brushes her skin, and she flinches violently.

“Don’t touch me,” she whispered.

He freezes… “I watched you die,” he says, his voice low and raw. “Or I thought I did. And now you’re standing in front of me telling me it never happened, we never happened?”

“I don’t care who she was,” she says, tears slipping free despite her efforts. “I am not her. I don’t want to be her. And I don’t want whatever this is.”

She pulled her hand free and stepped back.

“I hated myself the moment it was over,” she admits quietly. “I still do. Being in this room makes me sick. I need to leave .”

For a long moment, he just stares at her. Then, very softly, he says, “You’re my wife.. my woman”

The world stops.

My breath catches painfully in my throat. “What the…”

“I can prove it,” he continues, his gaze dropping to his phone by the lamp stand..terrified. “You are not leaving me again”

She wrapped her arms around herself.

“Are you dementia or something?” she says fiercely, the words tearing out of her. Her hands were shaking now, yet she didn't bother hiding it.

His jaw tightens, the muscle jumping like he’s restraining something violent and deliberate.

“You won’t leave,” he says again, and this time it isn’t anger that terrifies her…it’s the calm. The certainty. “Not until I know the truth.” He reaches for his phone like this outcome was always inevitable.

“What tr…” The word dies in her throat. The screen lights up, and my world fractures. She snatched the phone from his hand, her breath coming in shallow bursts. Her fingers go numb as she stares at the image. At herself.

‘It’s me.’ she whispers. It was her...standing beside him, wearing a smile she didn’t recognize but somehow felt. The room tilted, her knees nearly giving out.

“That’s…” My voice breaks. “That’s me.”His eyes never leave her face.

“See?” he says quietly. “I told you. You are my wife.” He takes a step closer, his presence pressing into her space, suffocating. “I don’t know how this is possible or how you survived the fire.. but I will take this as a second chance.. my miracle…” He taps the screen once. “..this doesn’t lie.”

“I don’t care,” she choked out. “I don’t care who you think I am.” she shoved the phone back at him, panic clawing up her spine. She opens the door. This time, he lets her go, and that’s what scared her the most

“Run if you want,” he says calmly. “I’ll give you that illusion, but you won’t disappear again.”

She froze in her tracks.

“You belong with me,” he continues, not raised, not rushed. “You always have. And I don’t lose what’s mine twice.”

She doesn’t turn around, she closes the door and steps into the hallway, her heart slamming vi

olently against her ribs, her stomach twisting, her thoughts unraveling into one horrifying truth… This was worse than selling my soul to the devil.

She sold it to a man who thought she was dead.