Chapter 2: Breaking Her Rules

Steam filled the bathroom. It felt good to breathe.

For three years, I'd lived in constant anxiety, desperate to please Autumn. Finally, peace.

The water ran down my body.

washing away the nightclub grime and Autumn's lingering touch. Starting over.

Click—

Suddenly, the bathroom door handle turned. Not again.

"Who's there?"

I quickly grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my waist. Who could it be?

"Who else could it be?" Autumn chuckled, striding in without a care. Of course it's her.

That's when I remembered—the door lock was set to her fingerprint. I hadn't deleted it yet. Should've fixed that.

"Get out. I'm showering," I said coldly. Not playing anymore.

Autumn didn't care. She raised an eyebrow, tossing me a 1% progress bump like a treat. She never cared.

She held up her phone, tapping the screen with a smirk. The number ticked up, but I didn't even flinch. Not falling for it.

"What, now you're shy? Weren't you all eager before?" Not this time.

She sauntered closer, eyes flicking up and down, trying to unnerve me. I didn't move.

"Ethan, it's been days. You can really hold out?" She couldn't shake me.

In the past, I'd have forced myself to play along, just to keep my progress rising—even if it killed me inside. Never again.

But things were different now—

As long as those damn numbers kept swinging, who cared if they went up or down? I was free.

I yanked down the showerhead and sprayed Autumn directly. Felt good.

The water washed away her perfect makeup, mascara streaming down her cheeks in black rivulets. About time.

"Out," I repeated. I meant it.

Autumn wiped the water from her face. When she looked up again, her eyes were full of impatience—she hated losing control.

"Ethan, you know I can't stand these push-and-pull games."

Not happening.

"Behave, and maybe we can talk."

I said nothing, just stared her down coldly. Not backing down.

Autumn frowned, but only for a second—then her confidence returned. I'd gotten to her.

The next moment,

she flicked her fingers in the air.

Progress dropped by 10%. Didn't care.

In the past, a drop like that would've sent me into a panic, desperate to win her back, willing to lower myself again. Not anymore.

A victorious smile spread across Autumn's face. She raised her hand and set a gift box on the sink. She could keep it.

She placed it down with a flourish, as if presenting a trophy. I eyed it warily, already guessing what was inside. What now?

"Bought this for you. After your shower, put it on and show me." Like hell I would.

With that, she strode out, utterly sure of herself. Finally gone.

Once she was gone, I went over and opened the box. Seriously?

Inside was a pair of black mesh briefs—almost see-through. No way.

She was here to check if her training had paid off.

I picked up the flimsy thing, my stomach churning. Gross.

Then I turned and dug out a turtleneck sweater and slacks from the back of the closet, plus the black-rimmed glasses Autumn hated most. Safe now.

I bundled myself up tight.

When I opened the bedroom door, Autumn was lounging by the bay window, painting her nails. She didn't like that.

The blood-red brush danced over her fingertips. All for show.

The moment she saw my outfit, she snapped the nail polish shut. Mission accomplished.

"What is this?"

Her eyes scanned my thoroughly covered body, lips pressed into a thin line. "Where are the briefs I gave you?"

"You mean that scrap of fabric?"

I held the mesh briefs between two fingers and tossed them at her. "Your taste is still stuck at cheap male strip clubs? Pathetic." Not my style.

Autumn stood up, her heels tapping out a dangerous rhythm on the floor. Let her stew on that.

"Ethan!" Her cold nails dug into the back of my neck, her perfume thick in the air. "You got guts today—is this your new way of getting my attention?" Bring it on.

Her grip was tight, her nails pressing into my skin. Didn't flinch.

The moment her breath hit my ear, her hand moved—

lifting my sweater, sliding underneath. Not this time.

I grabbed her wrist. My turn.

"Attention? Hardly." Not interested.

"Honestly, your skills in that department... are nothing to brag about." Let her feel it.

"Ethan!" Autumn's face twisted, a mix of shock and fury distorting her perfect makeup. "You'd better watch that attitude, or else—" Empty words.

"Or else what?" Try me.

After three tense seconds, the system chimed in, thrilled:

[Progress -10%! -7%! -4%! Now at 30%! Go, host, we're about to hit the jackpot!]

Even the system's rooting for me.

I couldn't help but laugh. Finally free.

I bent down and pulled out a copy of "The Guide to Pleasure" from the back of the drawer, slapping it onto the table. Time for her to learn.

"Do your homework, princess. Chapter 4, Section 3—how to avoid making your partner feel like they're being scrubbed with sandpaper." She could use it.

"With skills like yours, even a massage therapist would turn you away. Stop embarrassing yourself." Enough said.

Autumn stared daggers at me, her face pale and livid by turns. Why wasn't I panicking?

"Fine. Very fine." She smoothed her dress and gave me a long, calculating look. Her eyes said it all: say the wrong thing and you'd pay. Not scared.

"Ethan, don't come crawling back to beg me."

Her words rang out, sharp and final, but I only smiled. I won't.

For the first time in a long time, I felt free.