I read those messages while my childhood sweetheart, Aidan Black, passed out drunk on the bed. 

I had just wiped him down and changed his clothes to make him comfortable. I had even considerately placed a glass of honey water on the nightstand. 

For ten years, I had handled every detail of his life, never doubting our bond. We were each other’s closest family until I scrolled up and saw the full conversation. 

His friend, Callum Bailey, started, [Aidan, are you really marrying Lorelei?] 

He sent a screenshot of my engagement post, and the group chat exploded. 

Aidan: [I’ve proposed. No backing out now] 

His friends weren’t impressed, voicing their disapproval one after another. 

[Bro, with your status, you could snag a younger and cleaner girl.] 

[Lorelei is almost 30. Even if she’s pretty, aren’t you bored?] 

[Selling drinks got her what, a few bucks per bottle? But she raked in three million dollars in three years. We’ve been to those places. We know what pays like that.] 

[Aidan is not touching her. Probably scared of catching something.] 

Aidan watched the chat without defending me. Finally, he commented, [No choice. She’s an orphan, and I pity her. If I don’t take her, no one will.] 

I shivered, staring at the man on the bed. 

“Lorelei, my head is killing me,” he mumbled, drunk and whiny. 

I used to love his vulnerable side. Now it only made me sick. 

His phone chimed, and the screen lit up with a message from his secretary. 

Isabella Newman: [I took the pill last night, so don’t worry.] 

I grabbed a thin coat and stumbled out of the house. The apartment lights were glowing across the street, but tears streamed down my face. 

Aidan and I grew up in the same orphanage. I didn’t like him at first because he was too timid, always asking what I wanted to eat. 

Then when I was ten, a fire trapped me in the warehouse. He rushed in to save me but scarred his right hand. That scar was still there. 

He had a shot at being adopted by rich folks who loved his piano talent, but the fire ruined it. He stayed in the orphanage until we left at 15. 

I followed him, wanting to be his little sister forever. 

He said, “We can’t stick together forever if you’re just my sister, while husbands and wives can. Marry me when we grow up. I’ll give you a home.” 

I held onto that promise. 

In college, we worked part-time jobs and soaked up campus life. 

After graduation, he started a business. When it crashed and debts piled up, I couldn’t watch him suffer and drown. 

So, I dropped out of college, quit my prestigious internship, and took on a well-paid job selling liquor to pay off his debts. He wasn’t happy, but he swore he’d never fail me. 

When his business took off, he pointed to a fancy complex and said, “One day, I’ll get you a place here. Then we’ll get married.” 

For ten years, I treated him like my only family, giving him everything. 

Last night, he proposed, and I was ready to offer myself to him. Then he claimed he had a work emergency. While in fact, he was sleeping with Isabella. 

All those years, he didn’t touch me, saying it was to protect me. I believed him.