CRAVED BY THE DEVIL

I walked in and caught my fiancé in bed with another man.

Ethan... my Ethan... is gay.

The thought rang in my head as I stood frozen, watching the stranger slam deep into his ass while Ethan’s legs clung tightly around the man’s waist like he never wanted to let go. His back arched, his head thrown back, his mouth wide open in a pleasure I had never—not once in five fucking years—seen on his face.

The noises ripping from his throat were moans and gasps and broken “yesyesyes” that stabbed me straight through the chest.

Tomorrow. We were supposed to get married tomorrow.

My hand found the doorframe, fingers digging into the wood. Everything felt distant except the scene before me—two bodies moving together with a rhythm that spoke of practice, of familiarity, of something far beyond a momentary lapse in judgment.

"God, yes—Tyler, please—don't stop," Ethan moaned.

"That's it, baby," Tyler groaned, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Take everything I give you. You love it, don't you?"

"Yes—Daddy, yes—harder, please Daddy—" Ethan's response came out broken, desperate.

Daddy?

The words punched through whatever shock had been holding me upright.

My throat locked. I slapped a hand over my mouth, trying to choke back the sob rising fast and sharp. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. Ethan couldn’t be gay.

The wedding dress we picked together hung in my childhood bedroom. The flowers already arranged at the venue. Two hundred guests expecting to witness our vows. My parents' proud faces. His parent's measured approval.

His parents

The thought struck with sudden, bitter clarity.

Ethan had been so insistent on this wedding from the very beginning. So determined, despite my suggestions that we wait till next year. Not because I doubted him — I never doubted him. I doubted myself. I came from a lower-class background, and the Westbrook family had always made sure I never forgot it. The whispers at dinner parties. His mother's tight smile whenever I spoke about my work at the Gallary.

The way his father looked at me like I was a problem being managed rather than a future daughter-in-law.

I thought Ethan was fighting for me against all of that. I thought it was love. I thought he couldn't wait to make me his wife.

God, how naive I’d been.

My mind raced through our relationship, memories flipping like pages in a book—except now, every single one felt wrong. Every kiss he cut short.

Every time I'd suggested we move beyond kissing and he'd praised my desire to wait until marriage, calling it beautiful, traditional, right. Every weekends he'd always traveled, citing work dinners and client meetings.

Had he been with Tyler those weekend?

Had this always been who he was?

Had he been pretending—with me, with us—all this time?

I shook my head slowly, as though I could dislodge the truth, wake myself from whatever nightmare this was. But the sounds didn’t stop. His voice didn’t stop. The sight of them—tangled together—didn’t disappear.

"Fuck, Daddy—I'm close—" Ethan gasped, his voice climbing higher.

Something hot slid down my cheeks. I touched my face, almost absently.

Crying.

I was crying. I hadn’t even noticed.

"Wow," I heard myself say, my voice sounding strange and distant. "You're really quite shameless, aren't you, Ethan?"

The movement on the bed stopped as if I'd hit pause on a video. Ethan's head whipped toward the doorway, his eyes going wide with an emotion I couldn't quite name. Panic? Fear? Or was that annoyance flickering across his features?

He scrambled away from Tyler, yanking the sheets up to cover himself in a gesture that would have been laughable if it wasn't so pathetic. As if modesty mattered now. As if I hadn't just watched another man inside my fiancé.

"Sophia—" His voice cracked on my name. "What—what are you doing here?"

"That's really your first question? Not 'I'm sorry'? Not 'I can explain'"

I pushed off from the wall, forcing my legs to move even though they felt like water.

"You want to know what I'm doing in the house we're supposed to move into after our wedding tomorrow?"

He dragged on his pants in a rush, shaking his head frantically.

“No—Sophia, this isn’t—you don’t understand—”

"I don't understand?" My voice rose despite my attempt at control. "Please, Ethan. Please explain to me what I'm misunderstanding about walking in on you getting fucked by another man in our bed less than twenty-four hours before our wedding."

"It's not like that—"

“Not like that?” I let out a sharp, brittle laugh.

“Then what is it like? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're cheating on me. With a man. In the bed where we were supposed to start our married life tomorrow. You were moaning his name, Ethan. You were spreading yourself open for him like you’ve done it a thousand times before. And now you’re telling me it’s not what it looks like?”

His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. For five years, Ethan had always had words—smooth, persuasive, perfectly crafted to say exactly what people wanted to hear. Seeing him speechless would have been satisfying if my heart wasn't being shredded inside my chest.

"You absolute fucking bastard," I whispered, venom dripping from every syllable. "Five years, Ethan. Five years I've given you. I saved myself for you.... waited for our wedding night because you said it was romantic, that you respected me for wanting to wait... and this whole time, you've been—"

My voice broke. I couldn't finish the sentence.

“Jesus Christ,” Tyler muttered from the bed, clearly unimpressed. “This is exactly as dramatic as you said it would be, E.”

He stood, pulling on his boxer briefs with infuriating ease, like this was nothing more than an interruption.

"I'm not sticking around for this soap opera," Tyler he said casually, reaching for his jeans. "Text me later, yeah?"

Ethan turned toward him immediately, panic flashing across his face. "Tyler, wait... I'm sorry, I didn't know she'd—"

“It’s fine.” Tyler waved him off, already buttoning his jeans. “You warned me she might show up early. Should’ve listened.”

He glanced at me, his expression somewhere between pity and contempt. "He wasn't lying about you, though. Very emotional. Very dramatic."

Rage exploded in my chest, hot and blinding.

Five years. Five years of loyalty, of love, of being everything Ethan wanted—and this stranger, this man who had just been with my fiancé, had the audacity to stand there and judge me?

"You are so disgusting!" I lunged forward, my hand raised, every cell in my body demanding that I wipe that smug expression off Tyler's face.

But before I could reach him, Ethan grabbed my wrist, yanking me back hard enough to make me stumble.

“Stop it, Sophia!” he snapped, his grip painfully tight. “What the hell are you doing?”

I stared at him, stunned. “What am I doing? Let go of me!”

I tried to pull free, but his grip tightened. He stepped in front of Tyler, placing himself between us like a shield.

Like I was the threat.

Like Tyler needed protection from me.

Something inside me cracked.

After everything… after the lies, the betrayal, the humiliation—

He was choosing him.

"Sophia, would you just stop this...."

“Why?” The word tore out of me as my hand flew, striking his face before I could stop myself.

The sound echoed in the room.

"Sophia?" He clutched his cheek, staring at me like he couldn’t believe what I’d just done.

My chest heaved, my entire body shaking.

“Why are you protecting him?” I demanded, my voice shaking violently as I pointed at the bastard, who now stood frozen, his earlier arrogance replaced with surprise

“You should be on your knees begging me for forgiveness, Ethan! But instead, you’re protecting him?”

My chest rose and fell rapidly.

"You cheated on me with a man, Ethan. Not a woman, a man!"

“Why are you so surprised?”

Tyler’s voice cut through the tension, calm, almost amused.

"Did you actually think he wanted to marry you?"

"What?" The word came out as a gasp.

Tyler opened his mouth to speak again, but Ethan suddenly turned toward him.

"Tyler, no," Ethan said quickly, his voice sharp

Tyler ignored him completely and turned to face me.

"If it weren't for Ethan's father refusing to make him CEO unless he got married, do you really think he would've given you a second glance? Come on. A girl from a lower-class family with no connections? You were convenient. You were acceptable. But wanted?" He laughed. "Please. Every molecule of oxygen seemed to evaporate.

Ethan's father. The CEO position. The sudden proposal after five years of vague promises about "someday." The rushed wedding planning. His insistence on tomorrow's date, right before the board meeting where his father was supposed to announce the succession plan.

I felt sick.

I looked at Ethan, my voice barely holding together.

“Is… is that true?”

He didn’t meet my eyes. He didn't answer me. But silence was enough to shatter whatever was left of me.

“So this whole time…” I swallowed hard.

"You’ve been using me to hide the fact that you’re gay?"

Ethan flinched, but said nothing.

"What are you even good for? You should be grateful he chose you at all. Girls like you don’t deserve to be wives... Just sluts."

Tyler’s words hit like slaps, one after another, each one igniting a fresh wave of rage inside me.

My body moved before I could think.

But Ethan was already holding me back, dragging me slightly behind him.

"Let me go," I growled, struggling against him, my nails digging into his arm. "Let me go right now, Ethan!"

"No!" he snapped. "Sophia, just calm down—"

Calm down?

Calm down?

I shoved him hard with my free hand, pouring every ounce of strength into it. He stumbled back half a step, his grip loosening just enough.

I lunged toward Tyler again, my hand raised, ready to strike—

But Ethan was faster.

His hand cracked across my cheek with a sound that seemed to echo in the sudden silence. My head snapped to the side, the sting blooming across my skin like fire.

I stood frozen, one hand rising slowly to touch my burning cheek, my mind struggled to catch up with what had just happened.

Ethan had hit me.

He was breathing hard, his chest heaving, his hand still raised, trembling slightly. And when he spoke, his voice carried a viciousness I'd never heard before.

"Don't you fucking dare lay your filthy hand on Tyler."

~~~~

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