The morning sun filtered through the curtains, illuminating the dust particles dancing in the air and revealing the mess of stained sheets that told the story of our night. I woke up feeling the comforting weight of two bodies pressed against mine. An ironic smile formed on my lips; if someone had told me a week ago that I’d be sharing a bed with my obsessive childhood friend and the heiress of an empire in the middle of a gang war, I would’ve said they were insane.
I tried to adjust my head on the pillow to steal five more minutes of peace, but the slight movement was enough to wake Sofia.
“Good morning…” she murmured, her voice still hoarse with sleep and exhaustion.
Without the slightest ceremony, she dragged herself closer and laid her head squarely on my chest, using me as a pillow while staring at Vanessa, who still seemed to be sleeping deeply on the other side. I felt a sharp twinge in my ribs—the “gift” from the sewer guard—but I didn’t show it. I didn’t want to break that moment of vulnerability.
“Vanessa is weird,” Sofia suddenly said, her eyes fixed on the other woman. “I feel like I was manipulated by her last night. She got into my head in a strange way…” She paused, and a different kind of gleam appeared in her eyes. “But I didn’t think it was bad. I even liked it a little.”
I ran my hand through Sofia’s silky blonde hair, stroking it slowly.
“Try to stay calm, Sofia. Vanessa just wants what’s best for all of us… in her own way.”
Sofia stayed silent for a long moment, processing the touch and my words.
“We’re going to need a bigger house in the future,” she said thoughtfully. “One that can fit more people than just you and me. If things keep going like this…”
“We can live in my mansion,” Vanessa’s voice echoed, clear and awake.
Sofia jumped slightly, startled to realize Vanessa was already awake. Vanessa didn’t even bother to cover herself; she simply propped herself up on one elbow, showing off skin marked by the previous night, and leaned in to give me a good-morning kiss on the lips. Sofia watched the scene in silence, but to my surprise there was no murderous aura or growling. Vanessa’s “logic of division” seemed to have taken deep root.
“I think we should get up before Olivia does,” I suggested, trying to bring a bit of reality back into the room. “If she walks in and sees us like this, it’ll be impossible to explain.”
Vanessa let out a light laugh and lay back down, staring at the ceiling with complete confidence.
“It doesn’t make the slightest difference, Luke. She’ll be with us in the future anyway.”
An absolute silence fell over the room. Sofia and I exchanged looks, both of us speechless in the face of Vanessa’s absolute, almost prophetic logic. She wasn’t just living in the moment; she was already setting up the board for what would come next.
The morning light was almost aggressive, a white brightness that exposed every inch of chaos in that bedroom. My body felt like it had been trampled by a herd, but the leftover adrenaline from the night before—and the very real fear of being caught in that compromising arrangement—worked better than the strongest coffee I’d ever had. I won against Vanessa’s laziness—she seemed perfectly comfortable spending the entire day naked under the sheets discussing the future of our “prophetic harem”—and forced her to get dressed.
We left the room like shadows. Vanessa, with the confidence of someone who owned the territory, guided us through the silent corridors of Artem’s mansion toward the kitchen. The smell of fresh bread and freshly ground coffee hung in the air. The household staff were already working at full speed, but they maintained the professional discretion of people paid not to ask questions. To my relief, Olivia hadn’t appeared yet.
It didn’t take long for Artem to show up, imposing as ever, greeting everyone with a nod. He didn’t seem to suspect anything, perhaps focused on business or the duel that was approaching. However, when Olivia finally came down the stairs, the atmosphere subtly changed.
“Looks like I was the last one to wake up,” she commented, trying to keep her voice casual.
I noticed a faint blush on her cheeks. She quickly looked away when our eyes met, a gesture that made me wonder how much she’d actually heard through the walls of that mansion during the night. Contrary to what I expected, Vanessa and Sofia didn’t overact or pretend; there was an aura of brutal honesty and satisfaction about them that was hard to hide. They simply admitted they’d woken up early, and the way they exchanged complicit glances—without the spark of rivalry from before—was living proof that the dynamic had changed forever. Sofia’s mask was relaxed, and the way Vanessa moved radiated a victory she didn’t even try to hide from Olivia.
During breakfast, Vanessa insisted that I stay for the rest of the day. She argued that I needed absolute rest under her care, but I knew I had to leave. The atmosphere in Artem’s mansion was getting too dense, and I needed to process everything that had happened in my own space. Besides, I had responsibilities and couldn’t just disappear.
“I need to go home, Vanessa. I have things to take care of and I need clean clothes,” I said, trying to sound firm despite the pain in my ribs that throbbed with every deep breath. “I’ll take Sofia and Olivia home on the way.”
Artem didn’t object, and Vanessa, after a long look that said this isn’t over, eventually gave in.
The drive back was strangely quiet. Inside the car, the silence between Sofia and Olivia was heavy. Sofia seemed lost in thought, perhaps still digesting the logic of “division” that Vanessa had planted in her mind. Olivia, on the other hand, stared out the window, but I caught her several times watching me through the reflection in the glass, her expression indecipherable—a mix of curiosity and a hint of melancholy.
After dropping them off, the weight of exhaustion doubled. I stopped at a chain pharmacy, buying the strongest anti-inflammatory cream the pharmacist could recommend without a prescription, along with some potent painkillers. Driving with my ribs in that state was an exercise in torture, but I finally parked in front of my building.
When I opened the apartment door, the sound of the key turning seemed like a trigger. Bianca was in the living room, probably pacing back and forth. The moment she saw me, her eyes widened. She ran toward me, concern etched into every line of her face.
“Luke! My God, where have you been?…” She stopped abruptly when she got close enough to see the bruises on my face and the way I protected my left side. “What happened to you? You look terrible!”
I stayed silent for a second, looking at Bianca. Her voice was the first sound of “normality” I’d heard in hours.
I stared at Bianca for a long moment in the doorway. The silence between us was thick, loaded with the questions she wanted to ask and the exhaustion I could no longer hide.
“It was a rough night, Bianca. I don’t want to talk about it right now,” I said, my voice coming out more sluggish than I intended. “The only thing you need to know is that everything’s fine. I just need to rest.”
She looked me up and down, her eyes full of concern she tried to mask with a rigid posture. But to my surprise, she simply nodded. She respected my boundary. I climbed the stairs like an automaton, each step a small victory against gravity. The moment my back hit the mattress, the world shut off. It was a dreamless, heavy sleep, as if all the exhaustion from the sewer, the adrenaline of danger, and the ecstasy of the night with Vanessa and Sofia had finally demanded their price.
I slept through the rest of the day and the entire night.
When I woke up the next morning, the sun was gently coming through the window. The weight on my chest had eased, and my body, though still sore, no longer felt like it was on fire. I got up, remembering it was a college day, and went down to the kitchen.
Bianca was there, as usual: wearing only panties and an oversized shirt that slipped off her shoulders. That sight, which once might have made me uncomfortable, now brought a strange sense of peace. It was proof that I was home. The chaos of the weekend felt like a distant movie.
“I was really worried about you yesterday, Luke,” she said, turning toward me without a trace of the arrogance she’d had months ago. “You don’t have to tell me what you’re involved in… but I won’t leave you alone. I canceled my photo shoots today. I’m staying home to take care of you.”
“Bianca, you don’t need to do that. I’m already better, I can go to class—”
“You don’t have a choice,” she shot back, stomping her foot with a determination that didn’t allow for argument.
I just sighed and accepted it. We had breakfast together, a calm moment that was interrupted by some strange activity. Bianca started pushing the sofa aside, moved the coffee table, and with a herculean effort I didn’t even know she was capable of, managed to bring the guest room mattress down into the living room.
She laid the mattress on the floor, threw some pillows on it, and pointed at the spot with a silent command.
“There’s a series I want to watch. You’re going to lie down here with me, you’re going to watch it, and you’re going to spend the rest of the day resting while I take care of you. Understood?”
A strange, almost involuntary smile appeared on my face. I couldn’t help it.
“What is it? Why are you smiling like that?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
“It’s just that you seem like a different person,” I admitted, lying down on the mattress and feeling its comfort. “Compared to who you were a while ago… all arrogant, thinking you were the center of the world.”
Bianca paused for a second, her face softening before she lay down beside me, pulling a blanket over us both.
“You changed me, Luke,” she whispered, her voice low and sincere. “Now shut up and rest.”
As the TV light filled the room and Bianca’s body warmth drew closer to mine, I couldn’t help but think about Vanessa’s words.
The day with Bianca was, to say the least, surreal. The contrast between the untouchable model from months ago and the woman who had spent the last hours pampering me was almost unbelievable. She didn’t just take care of me; she gave me genuine affection, bringing lunch by hand, making sure I didn’t strain myself, and spreading the ointment over my bruises with a delicacy I never would have expected from her.
As night fell and the living room light dimmed, the atmosphere changed. We were lying on the mattress, the warmth of our bodies mixing under the blanket. Bianca was as close as possible, and with every movement she made, I felt her breasts press against my arm through the thin fabric of her shirt. Even with my body aching, my instincts weren’t dead. On the contrary.
My body reacted strongly. And because of the proportions of my “problem,” there was no way to hide it. Bianca felt the bulge against her leg almost immediately. She pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes, with a glint of mischief and anticipation.
“Are you turned on, Luke?” she asked, her voice low, vibrating with a curiosity she no longer tried to hide.
“Honestly? Yes,” I admitted.
Bianca let out a short, breathy laugh and leaned close to my ear.
“I used the medium anal plug for most of the day… I was getting ready. I think if you’re careful, we don’t need to go for the big one. We can skip that part now.”
I thought for a second. The pain in my ribs was still there, but the sight of Bianca—so open, so changed—was the best painkiller I could ask for.
“That works,” I said, my voice coming out deeper.
I pulled her into a kiss. Ever since I’d stood my ground and decided to break through that shell of arrogance to help her become a better person, we’d never gone this far. That was our first real time, without power games or humiliation—just the two of us. And judging by how she’d acted all day, I was sure: she had truly changed.
The kiss was slow, exploratory. Our tongues moved in perfect sync, as if we were rediscovering each other. When we pulled back slightly to catch our breath, she caressed my face.
“Isn’t this going to hurt you more? Your ribs are still bad…”
“No,” I assured her, feeling my blood pound. “I can handle it.”
Bianca gave a smile I couldn’t fully decipher—a mix of triumph and affection—and slid downward. Her agile hands went straight to my shorts, carefully pulling them down. When my arousal sprang free, already fully rigid and throbbing, she paused for a moment, simply admiring what she had awakened.
The silence of the apartment was filled only by the sound of our accelerated breathing. The peace of the rest day was over, giving way to an electric tension that promised to be far more intense than any TV series.
