I spend most of my time staring at the ceiling or folding and refolding the few clothes I packed, replaying every moment with him until my chest aches.
I thought my life was bad with my brother being in a coma, and then I made it worse by falling in love with a pretend finance guy who’s really a Russian mobster. What a fuckup.
Rosie tries to make me feel better. She brings me tea in the afternoons and sitting with me on the sunlit patio. Today she’s out here again, a mug of chamomile in her hands, her wedding ring catching the light. “You don’t have to pretend everything’s fine,” she says gently. “I know what it’s like to be dropped into this world without warning.”
She’s told me a little about her and Alex’s story. It’s not that different from mine. Except hers has a happy ending. I trace the rim of my own untouched mug. “I thought he was just… intense. Possessive in a way that made me feel wanted. Not whatever this is.” I swipe my free hand out wide. “Kedrov enforcers. Half-brothers who barely speak. Lies.”
Rosie nods but doesn’t push. “Alex and Max have history. Complicated family stuff, their father played them off against each other. But Alex is a good man under all that muscle. He’ll keep you safe.”
Safe. The word tastes bitter. I was safer in Max’s arms, even when he fucked me like he owned every inch of my body. The memories come unbidden, his weight pressing me into the mattress, his voice rough in my ear. The way he’d switch from dominant thrusts that left me sobbing with pleasure to tender kisses along my spine afterward. I believed it. All of it.
Now it feels like a transaction I was stupid enough to romanticize.
That afternoon, I corner Alex in the kitchen again, before he can disappear into whatever enforcer business he has on his agenda. “I need to see Ben. Please.”
He stares at me over his coffee, jaw tight. The resemblance to Max is uncanny. The same dark eyes, the same stubborn set to the shoulders, and it hurts more than it should. “Two guards. Me in the car. No detours. In and out.”
I agree before he can change his mind.
The drive to the hospital is silent except for the low hum of the armored SUV. Today, the two enforcers ride up front, scanning every vehicle like threats could appear from thin air. Alex sitsbeside me, radiating tension. I keep my hands clenched in my lap, heart hammering as we pull into the hospital parking structure.
Room 417 looks the same. The machines beep their steady rhythm as I slip inside. Alex and one guard are stationed just outside the door. The third guy stayed with the car.
I take Ben’s hand, the familiar calluses still there even after weeks of stillness.
“Hey, big brother,” I whisper, forcing a smile. “I missed you yesterday. Things are… still messy. But the bills are paid. For now.” I talk to him like always do, about the weather, about how much I need him to wake up, about the fear that’s been gnawing at me since Max sent me away. “I did something desperate, Ben,” I choke out. “But it was for you. All of it was for you.”
The monitors suddenly spike. A sharp, irregular beep cuts through my words. I jolt upright as nurses rush in, Dr. Patel close behind.
Alarms blare and someone shouts for medication.
I’m pushed back gently but firmly as they work around Ben’s bed. After what feels like an eternity of chaos, his eyelids flutter.
“Ben?” My voice cracks.
His eyes open. They’re groggy and confused, but open. He blinks slowly, focusing on me. “Sid… Sydney?”
A sob tears out of me. I push past a nurse and grab his hand again, pressing it to my cheek. “You’re awake. You’re really awake.”
He squeezes back weakly. The relief is so overwhelming I can barely stand. The doctors check vitals, murmur about miracles and further tests, but all I see is my brother.
Awake. Alive. After eight weeks of silence, he’s here.
The medical staff heads out after stern warnings about not upsetting Ben and that I only have a few minutes with him before they need to run more tests.
Ben’s voice is raspy from disuse. “What… happened? Last thing I remember is the accident.”
I explain as best I can: the coma, the bills, my jobs, the desperation. I leave out the auction at first. But Ben has always known when I’m holding back, or maybe he heard my whispered confession while he was asleep. “Sydney. Tell me everything.”
So, I do. The Luxury Sugar Babies Auction. Max bidding on me. The money that’s kept the hospital from kicking him out. The way Max made me feel cherished. I gloss over the explicit details, but Ben’s expression darkens with every word.
“You sold yourself?” His voice rises, hoarse but furious. “For a year? To some rich asshole who bought you like property?”
Alex and the other guy at the door take a step into the room, but I wave them away.
“Ben, it wasn’t like that. The money?—”
“I don’t give a fuck about the money.” He tries to sit up, wincing in pain. You’re my little sister. I raised you. I gave up everything so you wouldn’t have to… Jesus, Sydney. You let some gangster fuck you for hospital bills?” He turns to look at the men by the door. “Is that why they’re here?”
