" Say you hate me ,

it's okay boy ,  you're not the only one ! "

Monaco at night was a different kind of beautiful—less golden and dreamy, more electric and indulgent.

The streets buzzed with an effortless glamour, and the air pulsed with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and engines revving in the distance.

It was the kind of place where secrets thrived under dim club lights, where old wounds felt less sharp after a few expensive drinks, and where you could pretend you weren't affected by the things you swore didn't matter.

But Wemblyn wasn't in the mood to pretend.

It had been around a month seemingly since Sienna had moved to Monaco.

She hadn't seen or heard from Charles— and it killed her. She should be getting better over time, but she felt as if she was getting worse.

Wemblyn adjusted the strap of her dress as she stepped out of the car, the black silk clinging perfectly to her figure.

The club entrance was flanked by velvet ropes and a sea of well-dressed socialites, the kind of crowd that lived for these gatherings—exclusive, intoxicating, designed to make you feel important just by being invited.

Beside her, Sienna tugged at the hem of her minidress and sighed dramatically. "Okay, if this party sucks, we're leaving within the hour."

Wemblyn smirked. "Deal."

They walked past the line with ease, their names already on the list. Inside, the atmosphere was thick with heat and music, deep bass vibrating through the floor.

The walls were lined with gold accents, the bar was stocked with the finest liquors, and the chandeliers above cast an expensive glow over the whole scene.

People were already pressed close on the dance floor, lost in the rush of the night.

Sienna led them toward the bar, her eyes scanning the crowd. "I feel like everyone in Monaco is here tonight. This is a big party, yeah?"

Wemblyn leaned against the counter, ordering a drink. "Probably."

Sienna gave her a knowing look. "Including him."

Wemblyn stiffened. "Don't."

"I'm just saying."

"I don't care," Wemblyn muttered, taking a sip of her drink.

It was a lie. She did care. Because no matter how much time had passed since that phone call—since Charles threw every ugly word she feared about herself right back at her—his absence still burned in the places she wouldn't admit to anyone.

And, of course, Monaco was too small to keep avoiding him forever.

She was about to change the subject when she felt it—that shift in the air, the way people subtly turned toward the entrance, their conversations pausing just slightly.

It was the kind of attention that followed only a few people in this city.

She didn't have to look to know.

Sienna did, though, and her entire expression darkened. "Oh, for fuck's sake. Speak of the devil."

Wemblyn turned her head.

And there he was.

Charles Leclerc had always commanded attention without trying, and tonight was no different. Dressed in an effortlessly tailored black suit, his hair slightly tousled in that perfect, careless way, he looked as infuriatingly put-together as ever.

But what made Wemblyn's stomach tighten was the woman at his side—Alex.

The rumors were true, then.

Alex looked stunning, of course, her auburn hair cascading over one shoulder, her hand resting lightly on Charles's arm as they moved through the crowd.

She was everything people expected Charles Leclerc to be with—elegant, poised, the perfect complement to his image. It was no surprise they had gotten back together.

And suddenly, Wemblyn's drink tasted bitter.

Sienna muttered something under her breath, probably a string of curses, but Wemblyn wasn't listening. Because Charles had spotted them.

Their eyes met across the room, and for a moment, neither of them moved.

Wemblyn wished she could say she looked away first.

She didn't.

Charles did, turning his attention back to Alex as they were pulled into a conversation with someone else.

Sienna exhaled sharply. "We're leaving."

"No," Wemblyn said, straightening. "I'm fine."

Sienna looked skeptical. "You sure?"

Wemblyn tossed back the rest of her drink and set the glass down with more force than necessary. "Absolutely."

The party carried on. The music pulsed, the drinks flowed, and Wemblyn pretended—pretended not to care, pretended not to notice every time Charles moved through her periphery, pretended she wasn't still holding on to words that had been thrown like daggers months ago.

But then, the pretending stopped.

Because at some point in the night, she found herself alone on the balcony, sipping another drink, letting the cool night air soothe the heat prickling her skin. And then—

"Didn't think I'd see you here."

Her body went rigid at the sound of his voice.

Slowly, she turned.

Charles stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

Wemblyn scoffed, taking a lazy sip of her drink. "Well, Monaco's small."

His jaw tensed slightly. "So it is."

Silence stretched between them. The city glittered in the distance, but all Wemblyn could feel was the weight of him standing there, looking at her like—like what?

Like he regretted everything? Like he didn't?

She broke the silence first. "So, back with Alex?"

Charles didn't flinch, but something flickered in his gaze. "Why do you care?"

Wemblyn let out a sharp laugh. "I don't. Just wondering how long it'll last this time."

His eyes darkened. "Wemblyn—"

"No, really," she interrupted, tilting her head. "Because last time, you said she wasn't what you wanted."

She took a step closer, her voice dropping to something sharp and low. "So, tell me, Charles—what changed?"

His jaw clenched. "I don't owe you an explanation."

"No," Wemblyn said, her lips curving into something almost cruel. "You don't. But it's funny, isn't it? You called me messy, but here you are, running back to the same safe, boring choice because you can't handle anything real."

Charles's expression darkened. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, don't I?" She laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You think I don't see it? You think I don't know exactly why you went back to her? Because it's easy. Because she'll never challenge you."

Wemblyn's eyes narrowed "Because she'll never make you feel anything you don't want to feel."

Charles took a step forward, his voice low and furious. "You want to talk about making people feel things, Wemblyn? You dragged our history through the mud for the entire world to see. You turned something that was ours into something ugly, something public."

Wemblyn's eyes flashed. "Oh, I turned it ugly?" She shook her head, biting out a bitter laugh. "I didn't drag anything. I told the truth. But of course, that's the real issue, isn't it? You only ever care when the truth makes you look bad."

Charles's hands curled into fists at his sides. "I trusted you."

Wemblyn's breath hitched. For a split second, something inside her wavered.

Then she steeled herself. Remembered her place.

"No, Charles," she said quietly. "You trusted that I'd stay quiet."

They stood there, the distance between them filled with all the things they couldn't say.

Finally, Charles exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You never change."

Wemblyn's throat tightened. "And you never learn."

For a moment, she thought he might say something else.But then—without another word—he turned and walked away, back into the club.

And just like that, he was gone.

Wemblyn let out a shaky breath, gripping the balcony railing. The night felt colder now, the weight in her chest heavier than before.

Behind her, the party continued, oblivious to the wreckage they had just left in their wake.

The world inside the party was a blur—distant music, muffled conversations, and glasses clinking in the background. But none of it registered for Wemblyn.

She stood frozen, gripping the balcony railing, her breath still uneven from the fight that had just unraveled between her and Charles.

Her skin burned where his words had hit—every syllable carved into her like turnings old cuts back into fresh wounds.

She should have walked away. Should have let him leave without another thought. She was such a damn sucker.

But before she could even process what had just happened, she heard the sharp, unmistakable sound of Sienna's voice.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

The music hadn't stopped, but the energy in the room had shifted. Conversations near the balcony hushed, heads turned, and Wemblyn barely had time to step away from the railing before—

Sienna slapped a perfectly manicured across Charles's face.

The sound cracked through the air like a gunshot.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

Charles staggered back a step, his face snapping to the side from the force of it.

Time slowed.

Wemblyn's breath caught.

Sienna stood there, hand still raised, chest heaving, her usually calm expression contorted in fury.

No one moved. No one spoke.

And then, finally—

"What the fuck, Sienna?" Charles's voice was low, sharp, vibrating with barely contained anger as he turned back to face her.

Sienna didn't flinch. If anything, her fury only deepened.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she shot back, eyes blazing. "How dare you talk to her like that?" She pointed to Wemblyn— who was now standing in the doorway.

Wemblyn opened her mouth, but no words came out.

She was in shock—utterly, completely stunned.

Sienna? The Sienna Hoffman? The same woman who rarely raised her voice, who handled every situation with unnerving grace and control—she had just slapped Charles Leclerc in the middle of a crowded party.

And all for Wemblyn.

Charles inhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. "This isn't your fight, Sienna."

Sienna let out a humorless laugh, her hands shaking slightly at her sides. "Are you kidding me?" she spat. "You think I'm just gonna stand there and let you tear her apart? You think you can throw every single insecurity she's ever had in her face and I'm supposed to just watch? Be a fucking man and take it."

Charles' expression darkened. "Stay out of it."

"No," Sienna said, taking a step closer, her voice ice-cold. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to make her feel like she's the worst person in the world just because she finally told her truth."

Sienna was vicious, relentless. "And if you think I'm gonna be idle while you treat her like shit under your shoe you're sadly mistaken on the kind of person I am."

Wemblyn's heart pounded.

Charles was still seething, his hands balled into fists, his face unreadable.

But there was something in his eyes now—something flickering, something uncertain.

People were still watching. Everyone was watching.

Even Alex.

She was standing a few feet away, her expression unreadable, but Wemblyn caught the way her eyes darted between Charles and Sienna, then to Wemblyn herself.

For the first time, Alex looked. . . uncertain herself. Uncertain of herself.

Charles exhaled sharply and turned away from Sienna, running a hand down his face. He was furious, but he was also trapped.

He knew he couldn't explode here—not in front of this many people, not when everyone was waiting to see how he'd respond.

He looked at Wemblyn then, his expression stormy.

And for a moment, something shifted.

The anger was still there. The resentment. But there was something else, too—something raw, something unresolved.

And then, without another word, he turned and left.

Just like that. Gone.

The tension in the room didn't dissipate right away. The air was still thick with shock, with the weight of everything that had just happened.

Sienna let out a sharp breath and turned to walk over to Wemblyn. "Are you okay?"

Wemblyn blinked. "Did you just—"

"Yes."

"You hit Charles."

"Yes."

Wemblyn stared at her. "What the fuck?"

Sienna exhaled, rubbing a hand down her face. "I don't know. I just—he was being a prick. And I— I don't know, it just happened."

Wemblyn shook her head, still struggling to process. "I think I love you."

Sienna cracked a weak, breathless laugh. "You should."

A beat of silence.

Then—people started whispering again.

The spell had broken, and now the crowd was buzzing with murmurs, phone screens lighting up as people no doubt started typing out their versions of what had just gone down.

Wemblyn swallowed. "We should leave."

Sienna nodded. "Agreed."

They turned toward the exit, ignoring the lingering stares, pushing through the throng of people still reeling from the spectacle.

But just as they reached the door, Wemblyn caught sight of Alex again.

She was standing alone now, arms crossed, her expression unreadable as she watched Charles disappear into the depths of the party.

And then, just before Wemblyn stepped outside—Alex turned and looked straight at her.

For the briefest moment, their eyes met.

And Wemblyn could have sworn she saw something there.

Not smugness.

Not triumph.

Just doubt.

And maybe—just maybe—a little regret.

Then the door swung shut behind them, and the night swallowed them whole.