I awakened just before my marriage to the male lead. Having been drugged, I didn’t push open the door to his room. Instead, gritting my teeth, I forced open the door to my stepbrother’s room.

Meeting his stunned gaze, I pinned him against the door and pressed a kiss to his earlobe. “Brother,” I whispered, my voice a seductive plea, “please… help me.”

I had decided to defy the plot. I wouldn’t marry the male lead because of this “accident,” only to get a divorce later because of another woman.

In the original timeline, after years of toxic entanglement with him, I had nearly died before we finally reconciled.

This time, I’m going to hold onto the man who would give his life for me, yet never once dared to say he loved me.

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