Kelvin took a deep, shuddering breath.
Then another.
He wiped his face with the back of his hand, feeling the rough fabric of his hoodie against his raw cheeks.
‘I can’t think about my dignity anymore.’ ‘I can’t think about being a man.’ ‘I can’t think about what it means that another man kissed me.’ ‘All I can think about is Gabriella.’ He stood up.
His legs wobbled, and he had to grab the wall for support.
His fever was climbing higher, his vision swimming with dark spots.
But he didn’t stop.
He couldn’t stop.
He walked to the corner of the room where his discarded handbag lay.
He opened it and pulled out the floral dress—the dress Mrs.
Ahn had given him, the dress he had worn when he had run out of Alexander’s mansion.
It was wrinkled now, stained with sweat and tears.
But it would have to do.
He stripped off his male clothes—the t-shirt, the jeans, the hoodie—and put on the dress.
It felt wrong, like wearing a costume that no longer fit.
But he forced himself to do it.
He pulled on the wig, adjusting it until it sat properly on his head.
He rummaged through his bag for the small makeup kit he had stashed there and applied a fresh layer of lipstick—the same shade of pink he had worn earlier.
But when he looked in the small, cracked mirror hanging on his wall, he didn’t see Kelly.
He saw a broken man wearing a woman’s skin.
It didn’t matter.
None of it mattered.
Only Gabriella mattered.
Kelvin grabbed his handbag, slung it over his shoulder, and walked out the door.
He didn’t look back at his apartment.
He didn’t know if he would ever return.
****** The train ride back to the wealthy district felt like a funeral procession.
Every clatter of the tracks, every jolt of the carriage, every passing light that flickered across his face—it all felt like a countdown.
A countdown to his final degradation.
Kelvin sat with his hands clasped tightly in his lap, his nails digging into his palms until they left crescent-shaped marks.
He rehearsed what he would say to Alexander.
What he would do.
How far he would go.
‘I’ll do whatever it takes.’ The thought was cold and hollow, but it was the only thing keeping him upright.
When he finally reached the mansion, the clock on his phone read 8:47 PM.
The gates were open, as if they had been waiting for him.
The driveway was empty except for Alexander’s sleek black car.
The windows of the mansion glowed with warm light, welcoming him back to the golden cage.
Kelvin walked up the front steps, his heart pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears.
He reached for the handle, and the door swung open before he could touch it.
Alexander was standing in the doorway.
He had his jacket on, his keys in his hand, his phone pressed to his ear.
His expression was a storm of emotions—frustration, worry, anger, relief—all battling for dominance across his chiseled features.
When he saw Kelvin standing there, his breath caught, his eyes widening for just a fraction of a second.
He lowered his phone.
Ended the call without a word.
“Kelly—” he started, his voice rough, unsteady.
But Kelvin didn’t let him finish.
He surged forward, closing the distance between them in three desperate strides.
Before Alexander could react, before he could say another word, before Kelvin’s own brain could register what his body was doing—he grabbed Alexander’s face with both hands and pressed his lips against Alexander’s.
The kiss was nothing like the one Alexander had stolen earlier.
It was desperate.
Clumsy.
Raw.
Kelvin’s lips were trembling, his hands shaking, his entire body vibrating with a mixture of fear, shame, disgust and grim determination.
He kissed Alexander like a man throwing himself off a cliff, hoping that somehow, some way, he would survive the fall.
Alexander froze.
For a long, suspended moment, he didn’t move.
His body was rigid, his hands still holding his keys and his phone, his mind clearly struggling to process what was happening.
Then, slowly, his body responded.
His hands dropped the keys—they clattered to the marble floor, forgotten.
His arms came up, wrapping around Kelvin’s waist, pulling him closer.
Alexander deepened the kiss.
And Kelvin let him.
His brain screamed at him to stop.
His pride screamed at him to push away.
Every fiber of his being screamed that this was wrong, that he was a man, that he wasn’t supposed to be doing this.
‘But Gabriella needs the money.’ ‘Gabriella needs to live.’ ‘And if this is the price I have to pay, then I’ll pay it.
I’ll pay it a thousand times over.’ Kelvin’s hands slid from Alexander’s face to his shoulders, gripping the expensive fabric of his jacket.
He kissed Alexander back with a passion that surprised even himself—not because he wanted to, but because he had to.
He had to make Alexander believe that he wanted this.
He had to make Alexander crave more.
Because if Alexander craved more, then Kelvin had leverage.
And if Kelvin had leverage, then he could ask for an advance on the payment.
He could save Gabriella.
‘This is for Gabriella.’ ‘This is for Gabriella.” ‘This is for Gabriella.’ He repeated the mantra in his mind, letting it drown out the voice that whispered ‘you’re a man, you’re a man, you’re kissing a man and you’re liking it—’ No.
He wasn’t liking it.
He was tolerating it.
There was a difference.
When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless.
Alexander’s eyes were dark, hooded, burning with a fire that made Kelvin’s stomach flip—and not entirely in a bad way, which terrified him.
“Kelly,” Alexander breathed, his voice husky, rough.
“What—why did you come back?” Kelvin swallowed hard, forcing his voice to remain steady.
“Because I have nowhere else to go.” The words were true, but they weren’t the whole truth.
And Kelvin prayed that Alexander wouldn’t see through the cracks in his carefully constructed mask.
Alexander studied him for a long moment, his dark eyes searching Kelvin’s face, looking for something.
Lies?
Deception?
The truth?
Kelvin didn’t know.
He just held his breath and waited.
“You bit me,” Alexander said finally, his voice carrying a strange note—half accusation, half amusement.
“You bit me and kicked me and ran out of my house.” “And now I’m back,” Kelvin said, his voice not sounding like his or even Kelly’s.
“I’m back, and I’m…
I’m sorry.
For slapping you.
For biting you.
For running away.” The words tasted like ash in his mouth.
But he swallowed them down and smiled—a sweet, innocent smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“If you’ll still have me, Alexander.
I want to stay.
I want to make this work.” He hated himself for every word.
Alexander’s gaze softened.
His thumb came up, brushing a strand of hair—the wig, Kelvin reminded himself, it’s not your real hair—from Kelvin’s face.
He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Kelvin’s forehead.
“Of course I’ll have you,” he murmured against Kelvin’s skin.
“You’re mine now, Kelly.
Your my woman.
And I don’t let go of what’s mine.” ‘I’m not Kelly.’ ‘I’m not a woman.’ ‘I’m not yours.’ ‘I’m a man.
This was never about love—it was always about the money.
And when you finally realize your fake fiancée is a man…
that the person you kissed was a man…
I’ll be lucky if you don’t rip me apart.
But hopefully by then, it’ll be too late.
Gabriella will have her surgery, and that’s all that matters.
Whatever you do to me after that…
I’ll take it.’ But Kelvin smiled, and nodded.
“I’m yours Alexander, all yours.”