Mathew has imprisoned me.

No phone. No internet. No contact with the outside world.


He's truly lost his mind.

He's abandoned all morality, and now he wants me to share his bed.

"No. I'll sleep in the second bedroom."


I pushed away his offered food and stared pointedly at the closed door across the hall. A hunger strike seemed my only leverage.

Mathew looked uncharacteristically helpless. "The second bedroom isn't prepared. It's not suitable for sleeping."


Sensing weakness, I pressed on. "I don't mind. I'll sleep there."

"Fine then."

He agreed.

Then he leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper: "But... do you really want to see what's inside that room?"

...

I backed down, frightened by the implication.

"Fine, but I need some freedom. I have to work."

"Oh, I forgot to mention—I already helped you resign."

"What—"

Mathew covered my mouth.

He smiled. "Just kidding. How could I let you resign? Everyone knows you're the department head now... Don't be angry. I just requested some leave for you."

It was maddening.

I shoved his hand away.

"For how long?"

Mathew looked at me through half-lidded eyes. "That depends on when you accept me."

I gave up and fell silent.

But when Mathew moved closer, taking the unpeeled shrimp from my hand and replacing it with his bowl of perfectly peeled ones, I couldn't resist.

"These hands are for design work. They shouldn't be doing menial tasks."

He'd always been like this, from childhood to now.

I was the proverbial frog in slowly heating water.

After discovering his feelings, I couldn't even summon proper anger—only the instinct to quietly pull away.

But this was wrong. Our parents raised us for years, gave us their name, made us legally siblings.

How could I hurt them this way?

"Mat, let me go."

His eyes, which had brightened at the sound of his name, instantly frosted over.

His lips twisted into a cold smile. "What if I don't?"