I swallowed the pill with a gulp of water, trying to drown the storm of emotions clawing at my chest. Hours had passed since Roman left, and I’d barely moved, marinating in thoughts that made me feel equal parts pathetic and ridiculous.

Why was I spiraling? It wasn't as if we’d ever mapped out a life with kids and a white picket fence. The man had made his stance clear: he wasn't the type for domestic bliss. And yet, his clinical reaction to the mention of a "future" burned me. I tried to rationalize it—I should be grateful he was responsible. But my chest ached anyway, a dull throb that no logic could soothe.

Salvation came in the form of a blast of music.

Beat It. The rock anthem practically shook the house, the bass rattling the frames on the walls. Roman loathed loud music; he called it "noise with a bad attitude." That left only one culprit.

Reese.

The thought of him made my temples throb. Curiosity, mixed with a healthy dose of irritation, pulled me from the bedroom. I tied my hair up in a messy knot and headed downstairs.

The noise grew deafening until I reached the kitchen. Reese was at the stove, his blond hair in a sleek ponytail, wearing a pair of Roman’s black sweatpants. He looked maddeningly comfortable, as if he owned the place.

And he was flipping pancakes to Michael Jackson.

"You look... better?" I shouted over the music.

He switched off the burner, and the sudden silence was jarring. He raised a brow, spatula in hand. "I could say the same for you. Though you look like you’ve been through a war zone."

I blinked, confused. "Huh?"

A smirk tugged at his lips. "The least you and my brother could have done was keep the volume down. It’s rude to keep a guest awake with such... enthusiastic performances."

The world tilted. My stomach dropped so fast I thought I might be sick. He’d heard us. Everything.

"Of course I heard," he said lazily, reading the horror on my face. "You two aren't exactly subtle. I’ve decided to call you the 'Acoustic Exhibitionists.' It has a ring to it, don’t you think?"

I bit my tongue so hard I tasted copper. Why did I give him the satisfaction of seeing me flustered? "Sorry," I muttered, the word tasting like bile.

He waved it off. "It’s no biggie. I’ve seen and heard worse in the Blackwood households." He leaned back, scanning me. "Roman said you had a migraine. You seem fine now."

"I didn't," Reese shrugged. "Just needed an excuse to stay. Roman would have thrown me out at dawn if I hadn't improvised."

"I thought you were leaving," I blurted.

He groans, pressing a hand to his forehead. "God, not you too, sister-in-law. Just when I was starting to find you entertaining."

"I'm not your sister-in-law."

In one quick motion, he was in front of me. He caught my hand, lifting it to eye level. "You are," he murmured, his eyes glinting. "This ring belonged to my mother. Wearing it makes you family, whether you like it or not. You’re the chosen bride."

I yanked my hand back. "Don't touch me."

He grinned, raising his palms. "Got it. Temperamental. Now I see why Roman likes you."

"And why is that?" I snapped.

"Reflections," Reese said simply. "You’re both alike. He’s just more... controlling about it."

"That's not a bad thing," I defended.

"It is when the mask slips," his tone turned suddenly cold. "And with my brother, it always slips."

Anger flared in my chest. "Why are you even here, Reese? Roman doesn't want you here. I’m the one who convinced him to let you stay, and now you’re being a jerk. Leave."

Reese stared at me blankly for a moment. Then, he reached out and patted my head as if I were a golden retriever. "You're not scary, Savannah. You don't order a Blackwood around in his own family's orbit. Know your place."

I held up my ring finger, my voice trembling with rage. "I will soon be Savannah Marjorie Blackwood. I think that gives me plenty of right to tell you to get out."

Reese froze. For a second, surprise flashed in his eyes before he masked it with a round of mock applause. "Feisty! That’s a deviation. My brother usually goes for the quiet, fragile types who don't bite back. You're a rare breed, Savannah. But deviations never last in this family."

"Leave. Now." I spun on my heel to find Roman, my heart hammering. "I'm telling Roman you're gone."

"Roman's not here, sister-in-law," Reese called out, leaning lazily against the counter.

I stopped. "What? He's in the gym."

"He stepped out," Reese said, his smile turning predatory. "And I’m not leaving until our special guest arrives."

A chill ran down my spine. "What guest?"

Reese smiled like a wolf. "Your father-in-law. Time to meet the man who actually runs this nightmare. Daddy dearest is on his way."