Everyone in Manhattan’s elite circles knows that Sterling Vance, the ruthless and bloodthirsty CEO of Vance Enterprises, fears absolutely nothing in this world—except for a single frown from his older sister, Evelyn. Rumor has it that during the vicious, bloody inheritance war against our half-siblings, I was the one who took the literal bullets and arrows for him, paving his way to the throne. He suffers from severe insomnia. He can only fall asleep if he breathes in the custom-blended, soothing essential oils that I personally mix for him. But no one knows the truth. All those bullying incidents and assassination attempts he faced back then? I orchestrated them from the shadows. There is absolutely nothing biologically wrong with Sterling’s body. I spiked his essential oils with an untraceable chemical compound, ensuring that he would experience brutal withdrawal symptoms without it. He could never, ever leave me. With my own hands, I tamed this vicious wolf pup into a loyal dog who only recognizes me as his master. After helping Sterling thoroughly secure absolute control over the conglomerate, I voluntarily requested a transfer to our European branch to expand our market. It was a three-year stint. When I returned to the States three years later, there was a new face by Sterling’s side: a female security consultant, freshly retired from an overseas private military contractor. This consultant didn't care for haute couture; she preferred tactical camo. She spent her days lounging in the top-floor executive suite, calling Sterling "bro" and treating him like one of the guys. She even slept directly in his private executive lounge. The first time she met me, she clamped a cigarette between her teeth and scoffed. "You're the boss's sister, not his wife. Why are you sticking your nose where it doesn't belong?" The entire socialite circle was watching, waiting for a joke. They assumed that I, the former shadow-ruler of the Vance family, had lost my power, and now any random stray dog could step on me. It’s a shame. They didn't realize that my absolute favorite game is psychological warfare. Especially when dealing with the kind of woman who uses the "I'm just one of the guys" banner as an excuse to sleep with her "bro." …… The grandfather clock outside the penthouse office struck 3:00 AM. I sat on the French velvet sofa, casually toying with a cold, metallic lighter in my hand. My executive assistant, Arthur, pushed the door open. Despite the freezing air conditioning in the hallway, his forehead was slick with cold sweat. "Ms. Vance, Mr. Vance is... sleeping at the office again tonight." I picked up the black coffee in front of me and took a slow sip. "With Consultant Miller keeping him company?" Arthur lowered his head even further. "Yes. Consultant Miller said the security system is undergoing an upgrade, and there are a few vulnerabilities she needs to troubleshoot with Mr. Vance overnight. She... she also said that mercenaries like her aren't picky, so she’d just crash on the sofa in Mr. Vance's lounge." I set my coffee cup down. The porcelain clinked against the glass coffee table with a dull thud. Arthur’s shoulders violently flinched. Roxy Miller. Lately, that name had been echoing like thunder through the halls of the Vance Building. A female bodyguard who had spent three years dodging bullets in overseas warzones. She signed a massive security contract with Vance Enterprises, but instead of staying in the five-star hotel suite the company provided, she squatted in the CEO’s office every single day. She perpetually wore cargo pants and sported a choppy wolf-cut. She never knocked before entering a room, claiming it was a "professional habit" from the warzone. And incredibly, Sterling allowed it. At that exact moment, the faint sound of a man and woman laughing drifted down the hall from the executive suite. I stood up, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles on my designer suit. "Let's go. Time to deliver the CEO's essential oils. His insomnia can't handle a break from my medicine." Arthur looked like he wanted to say something, but ultimately walked ahead of me and swiped his keycard to unlock the security doors. The door to the executive office wasn't fully closed. As soon as I reached the threshold, the conversation inside drifted out with perfect clarity. "Sterling, have your abs shrunk lately? Men who sit in offices all day really lose their edge. Come on, feel my core. Hard as a rock, right?" It was Roxy’s voice. She purposely lowered her voice to a raspy, tomboyish pitch, trying to sound effortlessly cool. Then came Sterling’s low, resonant chuckle. "Consultant Miller is certainly hiding some impressive skills." "Damn right! When I was running ops overseas, I slept in the same tent as six-foot-four, two-hundred-pound mercenaries. We took bullets for each other. We aren't like those high-maintenance Manhattan princesses back home, rushing to the ER over a papercut. So pathetic." I pushed the door open. The entire scene inside was laid bare before my eyes. Sterling was sitting behind his massive mahogany desk, reviewing financial reports. Roxy had half her body draped across the desk, one combat boot resting casually on the edge of the CEO’s leather chair. She was holding a greasy box of takeout fried chicken, her mouth smeared with oil. Draped over her shoulders was Sterling’s bespoke suit jacket. The oversized, tailored jacket hung loosely over her frame, revealing the tight black tank top she wore underneath. Seeing me enter, Roxy paused, then casually tossed a chicken bone into the trash can. She didn't stand up. She just tilted her chin at me. "Well, look who it is. The Princess. Shouldn't you be getting your beauty sleep? Coming to talk business with Sterling in the middle of the night?" Sterling looked up, his gaze landing immediately on the velvet box in my hand. "Evelyn." I walked over, pulled the glass vial of essential oil from the box, and set it on the desk. "Time for your medicine." Roxy reached out to grab the vial. "What kind of magic water is this? Let me get a whiff for Sterling. Rule of the squad: anything that goes in the mouth or nose has to pass security." My face turned to ice. With a flick of my wrist, I smoothly dodged her hand. "Consultant Miller, this is prescription medication." Roxy’s hand grasped empty air. She let out a dry, awkward laugh, then proceeded to wipe her greasy fingers directly onto the hem of Sterling’s suit jacket. "Don't give me that attitude, Princess. I'm a straight shooter. I don't understand all these passive-aggressive high-society mind games." With that, she forcefully wedged herself onto the armrest of Sterling’s chair, throwing an arm casually around his shoulders. "Right, Sterling?" Sterling didn't push her away. He just looked at me quietly, his dark eyes unreadable. "Evelyn, Roxy is wild. Try to be tolerant." The following evening, the corporation hosted a private banquet at an exclusive club to formally welcome Roxy’s security team. I sat directly to Sterling’s right. Roxy had swapped her usual gear for a black leather jacket, sitting with her legs manspreading in the seat of honor to his left. After a few rounds of drinks, Jax stood up. He was Roxy’s second-in-command—a former rich kid adrenaline junkie who had followed Roxy overseas for a few years and now acted like he was enlightened and superior to the rest of the world. "Mr. Vance, if you ask me, the fact that our overseas branch survived this recent crisis is entirely thanks to Roxy. She might be a woman, but she’s more ruthless than most men. She’s a hundred times better than those fragile, delicate little rich girls who only know how to swipe credit cards and carry Birkin bags!" As Jax spoke, he shot a highly provocative glare directly at me. A few corporate security executives exchanged nervous glances, offering dry, awkward chuckles to appease him. Roxy picked up a whiskey decanter, downed half a pint of straight liquor in one breath, and heroically wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Jax, cut the bullshit. I just can't stand those fake, dramatic 'mean girls'. A woman should hold up her own sky. Spending all day getting plastic surgery and plotting to steal a man’s money? Pathetic." She pushed her chair back and walked to the dartboard in the center of the private room. "Mr. Vance, just drinking is boring. How about I show everyone a little trick to liven things up?" Sterling leaned back in his chair and nodded. "Go ahead." Roxy grabbed a handful of professional, steel-tipped darts from the table. Her movements were indeed sharp. However, with every single throw, the trajectory of the darts intentionally or unintentionally skimmed incredibly close to where I was sitting. For her final throw, she spun around with sudden, violent force. The steel tip of the dart slammed directly into the solid wood paneling right next to my ear. It was exactly three inches from my temple. The gust of wind it generated literally brushed the hair against my cheek. The private room fell into a deathly silence. Roxy clapped her hands together and burst into loud, obnoxious laughter. "Oh man! Did I scare you, Princess?! My bad, I've got a heavy hand. If I frightened you, I’ll take a penalty shot!" Her mouth was apologizing, but her eyes were brimming with malicious, triumphant satisfaction. I sat perfectly still in my chair. My eyelashes didn't even tremble. "Consultant Miller's hand-eye coordination is certainly impressive. It's a shame her brain's aim seems to be a little off." Roxy's face instantly stiffened. "What’s that supposed to mean, Princess? Looking down on us security grunts?" "I simply think that since you claim to be Mr. Vance's 'brother,' you severely lack boundaries. Brandishing a lethal weapon at the Executive Vice President during an official corporate dinner? In any other company, you would already be sitting in a police interrogation room for reckless endangerment." Roxy turned to look at Sterling, pouting her lips in a grotesque imitation of a wronged "bro." "Sterling, look at your sister. I told you I was just a rough-around-the-edges grunt. I don't know the rules. That was just a slip of the hand, I wasn't targeting her. Does the Princess just hate my guts because she thinks I'm stealing her spotlight?" Sterling set down his wine glass. "Evelyn, Roxy had a bit too much to drink. It was just a joke." I turned to look at Sterling. He avoided my gaze, tilting his chin at Roxy. "Go back to your seat." Roxy shot me a smug, victorious eyebrow raise and turned to walk back. As she passed Jax, the two of them shared a knowing smile and violently high-fived. After the banquet ended, I intercepted Sterling in the underground VIP parking garage. "What do you really think of Roxy?" Sterling stopped walking, signaling for his bodyguards to step back. "What are you trying to say, Evelyn?" "Her intentions toward you aren't clean." Sterling let out a low chuckle, looking down to light a cigarette. "Is my sister jealous?" I stared at him. "I am simply reminding you that corporate secrets and personal safety leave zero room for crossed boundaries. She uses the 'good bro' excuse to get close, but her actions are becoming increasingly inappropriate." Sterling's fingers, holding the cigarette, reached out. He gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "You're overthinking it, Evelyn. Roxy saved my life once. She's a straight shooter, she doesn't have any hidden agendas. Besides..." He lowered his head. His warm breath brushed against the side of my neck, his voice turning dark and husky. "I can only stand the scent of my sister." I swatted his hand away. "I hope the CEO remembers what he said today." Sterling stared at his empty hand, his eyes darkening. He didn't argue. He simply pulled open the door of the Maybach and got in. Watching the taillights fade into the distance, my heart was filled with nothing but cold mockery. A straight shooter? If she were truly a straight shooter, she wouldn't intentionally wear his suit in his office, and she wouldn't try to publicly humiliate me at a corporate dinner. I had gotten bored of these pathetic, low-tier power plays back when I was a teenager surviving the Vance family inheritance wars. Half a month after Roxy integrated into the company, my custom-blended essential oil disappeared from Sterling's desk. It was the one thing he absolutely required every single night. The formula belonged exclusively to me. It contained a highly addictive, incredibly difficult-to-extract compound. I pushed open the door to the executive suite. Before I even stepped inside, I was hit by the pungent, nauseating stench of cheap coffee mixed with synthetic air freshener. Inside, Roxy was directing the cleaning staff to throw the custom-built diffuser I had placed on Sterling's desk straight into the trash. "Throw it out, throw it out! What is this girly, fragile nonsense? It gives me a massive headache." I walked into the room, my heels clicking sharply against the floor. "Put it down." The cleaning lady's hands shook in terror. She looked at me helplessly. Roxy turned around, holding a cup of iced Americano. "Oh, look who it is. Perfect timing, Princess. I'm just helping Sterling clear out all this useless garbage." "That is Mr. Vance's sleep medication." "Sleep medication? Looks more like a hypnotic poison to me." Roxy swaggered over, swirling the ice in her plastic cup. "Princess, a man needs to have a man's bloodlust. Breathing in these soft, fragile perfumes all day is grinding away all of Sterling's wolf-like instincts. Overseas, when we can't sleep, we chug black coffee and spar for two rounds! That's what real men do!" I looked at her with eyes like ice. "He has severe clinical insomnia. If he stops his medication, his body will collapse." "That's just a bad habit you spoiled him into having!" Roxy raised her voice aggressively. "What insomnia? It's just him being overly sensitive. Drag him to the boxing gym, let him go ten rounds until he's dead on his feet, and I guarantee his head will hit the pillow and he'll sleep like the dead. Sterling has just been crippled by a control freak like you." Just then, Sterling walked out of his private lounge. He was wearing a white dress shirt, the collar unbuttoned. Underneath his eyes were heavy, bruised, dark circles. It was obvious he hadn't slept at all last night. "What's the yelling about?" I pointed at the diffuser in the trash can. "Sterling, Consultant Miller just threw away your medication." Sterling frowned, looking at Roxy. Roxy immediately walked over and bumped her shoulder against his, playing the loyal comrade. "Sterling, I'm doing this for your own good. Smelling all those random chemical perfumes damages your nervous system. Look how pale you are—it's because you lack physical exertion. Starting today, after work, I'm taking you to the gym to spar. I promise you'll sleep like a log tonight." Sterling rubbed his throbbing temples. "My head really has been killing me lately." I stared at him. "Are you going to keep her ridiculous theory, or are you going to keep the essential oil?" Sterling fell silent. Roxy grabbed his sleeve and gave it a shake. "Sterling, just trust your bro this one time, okay? Would I ever hurt you? We've literally dodged bullets together." Sterling lifted his head and looked at me. "Evelyn, Roxy means well. This medicine... stopping it for a few days to see what happens won't hurt." My hands, buried deep in the pockets of my trench coat, violently clenched into fists. My manicured nails dug so hard into my palms that they sent a sharp, piercing spike of pain through my hands. "You've made up your mind?" "Yeah. I want to try Roxy's method." Roxy shot me a smug, triumphant look, lifting her chin in victory. "Hear that? Lady, hurry up and throw that garbage out!" I looked at the empty, barren desk. The absolute last trace of lingering warmth in my heart completely froze over. "If that's your decision, then I won't interrupt Mr. Vance's journey to reclaim his 'manhood.'" I turned and walked out of the executive suite. Behind me, I could hear Roxy's entirely undisguised voice. "Sterling, look at her face. It's like someone owes her a billion dollars. It's so much more relaxing when it's just us bros hanging out, right?" Sterling didn't answer. But I heard the sound of him grabbing his suit jacket off the chair. On the second subterranean level of the Vance Building was a private, state-of-the-art boxing gym built specifically for Sterling. Today, Jax was there too. Inside the octagon, Roxy and Sterling were sparring with heavy gloves. The hits were brutal and wet with sweat. During a break, Sterling sat by the edge of the cage. His thumb subconsciously rubbed the watch on his wrist. It was an antique Patek Philippe. When he turned eighteen, I used the very first bonus check I ever earned, scoured the antique markets of Europe, and bought it for him. He had worn it every single day since. He never took it off. I was walking past the gym on my way to the elevators, not intending to stop. "Princess!" Jax had sharp eyes and shouted loudly across the room. "Since you're here, why don't you come down and give us some pointers? Oh, wait, I forgot. You're a refined intellectual. You can't stand the sight of blood." Roxy took out her mouthguard and wiped the sweat from her forehead. "Jax, don't embarrass the Princess. She's a hothouse flower. She's never seen a real fight in her life. She probably wouldn't even dare to kill a chicken." The two of them bounced off each other, drawing low, muffled chuckles from the surrounding security team. Sterling leaned against the cage mesh, not uttering a single word to stop them. He just looked at me faintly from a distance. I stopped walking and stood on the staircase leading down. "I admit, I don't understand the primitive ways barbarians vent their frustrations." Roxy's face instantly darkened. "Barbarians? Princess, this is called power! If we weren't out there bleeding and risking our lives, how could you possibly sit comfortably in an air-conditioned office signing contracts?" Saying that, she violently vaulted over the top of the octagon cage, jumping to the floor outside. Her movements were too aggressive. As she landed, she slammed heavily into Sterling with a loud thud. "Oof!" Sterling's wrist slipped. The clasp of the antique watch snapped open, and the timepiece flew off his wrist. The mechanical watch sailed through the air in an arc and slammed brutally onto the unforgiving concrete floor. A sharp, devastating CRACK echoed through the room. The crystal glass shattered. The intricate, delicate gears and cogs scattered violently across the ground. The air instantly froze. I stared at the scattered gears on the floor, my heart violently clenching. Sterling shot up from his seat. The atmospheric pressure around him instantly dropped to absolute zero. His face was terrifyingly dark. Roxy seemed startled for a second, but quickly shrugged it off with a look of total indifference. She walked over and casually kicked the shattered watch with the toe of her combat boot. "Whoops. It broke. My bad, Sterling, I couldn't stop my momentum." She looked up, acting as though it was completely trivial. "It's just a busted old watch, right? I'll deduct it from my commission and buy you the newest Rolex. It'll look way cooler than this antique junk." Sterling stared intensely at the shattered watch on the ground. His hands curled into tight fists, the veins on the back of his hands bulging threateningly. I looked at him, waiting for his reaction. Waiting for his apocalyptic, thunderous rage. However, Jax rushed over to run interference. "Mr. Vance, Roxy didn't do it on purpose! Out with the old, in with the new, right? It's just a watch. How could a watch compare to the bullet Roxy took for you in the rainforest?" Sterling's fists tightened, relaxed, and tightened again. He closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. When he opened his eyes again, the violent, murderous rage had been forcibly suppressed. "Forget it." His voice was incredibly hoarse. "If it's broken, it's broken." Roxy let out a massive sigh of relief. She walked over and familiarly slung her arm around Sterling's neck. "That's my guy! We're real men, we don't hold grudges over a piece of metal. Come on, let's keep sparring!" I stood rooted to the spot, looking at the mechanical wreckage on the floor. I knew the game was over. Sterling turned his head and looked at me. In the depths of his pitch-black eyes, there was a flash of frantic struggle and panic. "Evelyn, you heard her. Roxy didn't do it on purpose. Just go back to your office." I slowly walked down the stairs. I bent down and, piece by piece, picked up the shattered watch face and the scattered gears. The edges of the broken glass were razor-sharp. It instantly sliced open my palm, beads of crimson blood welling up and rolling down my skin. But I couldn't feel the pain. I only felt a bottomless, freezing cold that instantly spread from the soles of my feet to my very bones. "Sterling." It was the first time I had ever called him by his full, first name. "Do you truly believe this is just a 'busted old watch'?" Sterling awkwardly avoided my gaze. "I'm tired. Evelyn, just leave." I gripped the blood-stained gears tightly in my hand. "Okay." I nodded. My voice was so calm that even I was surprised by it. "Since the CEO finds my presence so irritating, I will disappear completely. I wouldn't want to ruin this beautiful moment of brotherhood." I turned around and walked out of the gym, step by step. Behind me, I could hear Roxy's contemptuous laugh. "Sterling, look how dramatic she is. It's literally just a watch, is it really that serious?" Is it really that serious? Of course it is. Because it wasn't just the watch that shattered. It was ten years of my blood, sweat, and tears poured into him. And it was the very last shred of my patience. When I returned to the top-floor office, I called for Arthur. "Book me a flight. Pack my things." Arthur froze. "Where is Ms. Vance going? Didn't you just finish the European handover?" I tossed the blood-stained, shattered watch onto the desk. "I'm going to the coastal villa." "But what about Mr. Vance..." "Don't tell him. Revoke all his access permissions to my itinerary." I looked out the floor-to-ceiling window at the city's neon lights flickering to life in the gathering dusk. "From this day forward, Evelyn Vance no longer exists within Vance Enterprises." The rain outside the coastal villa felt even more desolate and isolated than in the city center. I wrapped a cashmere shawl around my shoulders, sitting by the floor-to-ceiling window, listening to the waves and the rain violently lashing against the glass. There were no endless trans-Atlantic conference calls here. No fake, sycophantic corporate smiles. I slept the most peaceful, uninterrupted sleep I had experienced in three years. On the first night after I left, the top floor of Vance Enterprises was unnervingly quiet. Sterling finished reviewing the final merger acquisition file. Out of pure habit, he reached toward his left side. He grasped empty air. Usually, at this exact time, I would be sitting on the sofa, holding his custom-blended essential oil, waiting for him. He ripped his tie off in frustration and called out loudly. "Evelyn?" No response. The only person to push the door open was his assistant, Arthur. He stood in the doorway, too terrified to even breathe properly. "Mr. Vance... Ms. Vance is... not here." "Where did she go?" "Ms. Vance said she was feeling dizzy, so she went back to her apartment to rest." Sterling didn't press the issue. He rubbed his violently throbbing temples, stood up, and walked into his private executive lounge. The lounge reeked of a pungent mix of cheap tobacco and men's cologne. Roxy was sitting cross-legged on his custom leather bed, holding a stack of security blueprints. Seeing Sterling walk in, she patted the mattress next to her. "Sterling, get over here! These camera blind spots are pretty interesting, let's run through them." Sterling walked over and sat on the edge of the sofa. The stinging stench shot straight up his nose, making his eyes burn and his stomach violently churn in disgust. "That smell is way too strong. Open the window." Roxy waved her hand dismissively. "The strong smell is what keeps you awake! Sterling, you're way too delicate. You're so used to breathing in those sickly-sweet perfumes. It's good to switch it up and get a taste of something wild. You'll get used to it." Sterling lay down on the sofa and closed his eyes. All he could think about, the only thing his brain could process, was the faint, lingering scent of cold, clean cedarwood. It was my scent. He rolled over. He couldn't sleep at all. His head was splitting open. It felt like ten thousand needles were stabbing directly into his cerebral cortex. "Roxy." "Yeah?" "Get out." Roxy froze. "Get out? Go where? I thought we agreed to pull an all-nighter troubleshooting the vulnerabilities?" "I want to be alone." Sterling's voice was dark and freezing. Although Roxy was arrogant, even she could tell his mood had turned lethal. She pursed her lips and rolled up the blueprints. "Fine, fine, fine. You're the boss, whatever you say. I'll come find you tomorrow." After Roxy left, Sterling cranked the ventilation system to its maximum setting, desperately trying to eradicate the cheap stench from the room. But the migraine didn't fade. It escalated violently. He tossed and turned on the sofa until the sun came up. At the morning executive briefing, Sterling sat at the head of the table, his eyes heavily bloodshot. The senior executives were terrified into absolute silence. Roxy sat in the back row, winking and making faces at Jax, implying that the "battle" last night had been intense. The second the meeting ended, Sterling marched straight to my Vice President's office. "Evelyn." He pushed the door open. The massive office was completely empty. The desk was spotless. Every single personal item had been cleared out. The only thing remaining was sitting dead center on the desk: a pile of shattered antique watch gears, resting on top of a formal letter of resignation. Sterling's heart slammed violently against his ribs. He rushed over. In the blank space of the resignation letter, four words were written in pristine fountain pen ink: Take care of yourself. The knuckles of the hand gripping the paper turned bone-white. His fingertips trembled uncontrollably. Arthur stood in the doorway, cold sweat soaking his shirt. "Mr. Vance... Ms. Vance cut off all contact last night and went to the coastal villa... for an extended leave of absence." "Why the fuck didn't you tell me earlier?!" Sterling violently swept his arm across the desk, sending the folders and the pen holder crashing to the floor, letting out a roar of absolute, unhinged rage. "I... I didn't dare..." Sterling collapsed into the desk chair, staring obsessively at the pile of blood-stained watch parts. The dried blood had turned a harsh, glaring crimson. He reached out to touch the red stain, but his fingertips recoiled violently as if he had been burned by fire. An unprecedented, suffocating terror wrapped around his heart like a thorny vine. She left. The sister who had thrown herself in front of a speeding car during the family inheritance war, who gave him the only path to survival, who guarded him every step of the way until he sat on the throne of Vance Enterprises... had been completely driven away by him. Sterling fell violently ill. A 104-degree fever. He was delirious, muttering incoherently in his sleep. The private medical team Vance Enterprises paid millions for worked around the clock, but they couldn't find a single biological cause for the fever. All they could do was keep him on an IV drip. Roxy paced around the top-floor penthouse, frantic like a rat on a hot stove. "You bunch of useless hacks! You can't even break a simple fever?! What is the point of the company paying you people?!" She snatched a cup of water from a nurse's hand, attempting to force-feed Sterling fever reducers. Sterling's eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw clamped shut like a vice. The water spilled down his chin and soaked into his collar. "Sterling, open your mouth! It's Roxy! It's your bro!" Roxy screamed at him, violently shaking his shoulders to wake him up. Sterling's brows were tightly knitted. He mumbled something incomprehensible through his fever dream. Roxy leaned in close to listen. "The essential oil... the scent..." "What essential oil?!" Roxy whipped around and glared at Arthur. Arthur kept his head down, answering quietly, "Mr. Vance is asking for the soothing essential oil that Ms. Vance personally blends." "That garbage again?!" Roxy slammed the water cup brutally onto the nightstand. "I refuse to believe this bullshit! You're telling me he can't survive without that controlling bitch?!" She turned, stormed into the master bathroom, grabbed a towel soaked in ice water, and violently slapped it directly onto Sterling's face. "Sterling, wake the fuck up! Stop acting like a coward and letting a woman control you!" The freezing shock sent violent tremors through Sterling's comatose body. He hacked and coughed violently, his face flushing an alarming, sickly, feverish red. "Get out..." He struggled to open his heavily bloodshot eyes, his voice a raspy, jagged whisper. "Get her... the fuck out..."
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "399956", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel