Definitely Not Eva

Ava was already mentally preparing herself for a dramatic descent down the grand staircase in search of the WiFi router, a mission she considered both noble and necessary.

After all, what kind of cruel man not initiatively provide her kind-of-legally-married wife his home WiFi?

But just as she was about to tiptoe her way into the unknown halls of Zach's lifeless, soulless, Internet-less manor, she heard the unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps.

Ava's survival instincts kicked in. Abort mission!

It didn't take a genius to figure out that the footsteps belonged to the female attendants Butler Eduardo mentioned earlier. Knowing she had no choice but to retreat, she hurried back into her room and made quick work of her gown.

It wasn't easy wrestling out of layers of expensive fabric in a rush, but somehow, she managed to slip out without destroying the delicate material. She carefully laid it on the gray, soulless, Victorian-style couch near the gigantic double-door window.

Even her stilettos were strategically positioned, as if she were starring in a dramatic fashion magazine shoot rather than living through what felt like an unintentional kidnapping.

With everything in order, she finally stepped into the bathroom, sighing at the sight before her.

Gray.

The entire bathroom was painted in various shades of gray, just like the rest of this lifeless mansion.

Ava had seen hospitals with more personality than this place.

Even the furniture, with its intricate Victorian designs, couldn't make up for the soul-sucking monotony of the color scheme. It was like stepping into a historical drama where everyone dies of boredom before the plot even begins.

As she stood in the middle of the gray-tiled floor, staring at the gray marble bathtub, beside the gray cabinets and the gray-framed mirror, Ava realized something:

Zach Ford might actually be a vampire.

Ava let out a long, dramatic sigh as she stepped toward the giant Victorian bathtub, already prepared for her.

The water was milky white, the surface covered in delicate, god-forsaken white rose petals. Because, of course, why not?

Ava stared at it for a moment. She could already see the scene—her sinking into the tub like a tragic heroine, staring at the ceiling as the petals drifted around her, while soft piano music played in the background.

Gross.

Was this a bath or a ritual to summon an ancient spirit?

She cautiously dipped a finger into the water. At least the temperature was perfect. She had to give credit where credit was due—the mysterious emo lord sure knew how to prepare a luxurious bath.

Still, the whole setup was too dramatic for her taste. If she was going to be stuck in this gray-scale horror movie of a mansion, she at least needed bubble bath and WiFi to survive.

Muttering under her breath, she stepped in, sinking into the warm water.

As she leaned back, her eyes drifted to the rose petals floating around her, and she suddenly had an unsettling thought.

What if Zach Ford personally requested this?

What if the brooding lord of boredom was somewhere out there, thinking she'd appreciate this overly romantic setup?

Ava snorted.

Yeah, right.

The man named his WiFi Go buy your own WiFi, peasant. There was no way he had a single romantic bone in his entire moody, emotionally constipated body.

Within a moment, Ava heard the doors open, followed by a polite knock. 

"My lady," a voice called from the other side. "Your belongings have been delivered as requested. Is there anything else your ladyship requires?"

"Nothing else, thank you," Ava answered, stretching her neck slightly as she stared at the grand yet insufferably dull bathroom. "You may go." 

"Have a pleasant rest, my lady," the attendant responded with practiced grace. 

Ava listened as the door clicked shut, leaving her alone once more in this oversized, lifeless space.

She let out a slow, exaggerated sigh, the sound echoing faintly against the marble walls. The flickering candlelight barely did anything to make the room feel warm or inviting. 

With nothing else to do, she shifted in the bathtub, watching the milky water swirl around her arms. The white rose petals floated lazily atop the surface, mocking her with their useless presence. Seriously, who even thought bathing in milk was practical? If she wanted to smell like spoiled dairy in a few hours, this was definitely the way to go. 

Ava's boredom reached new heights. Desperate for some form of entertainment, she reached for her phone, which she had wisely placed on the table earlier. Since there was no WiFi—curse Zach and his petty router name—she decided to scroll through her offline music library. 

With a triumphant smirk, she selected a playlist, set her phone on the dry edge of the tub, and sank deeper into the water. Letting the soft melody fill the room, she tilted her head back, inhaled deeply, and slowly submerged her face beneath the surface—just enough to keep her nose above water. 

Maybe, just maybe, drowning in boredom was a real thing.

As she stared up at the gray ceiling, her mind drifting aimlessly, Ava found herself unconsciously humming along to the music. Before she knew it, she was quietly singing, her voice blending with the melody that filled the otherwise lifeless bathroom.

At first, it was just a soft murmur, but as the song reached its chorus, she couldn't help but put a little more effort into it. She closed her eyes, one arm resting on the edge of the tub, fingers tapping lightly in rhythm.

"Baby don't cry tonight.

Eodumi geochigo namyeon.

Baby don't cry tonight.

Eopseotteon iri dwel kkeoya.

Mulgeopumi dweneun geoseun niga aniya,

kkeunnae mollaya haetteon.

So baby don't cry cry.

Nae sarangi neol jikil teniiiii."

She sang, dramatically dragging out the last word as if she were performing on a grand stage.

Ava sighed and lifted a hand, watching the milky water drip from her fingers. She might as well enjoy the moment since she had nothing else to do.

But just as she was about to go full diva, a deep, unamused voice cut through the music.

"You sound terrible."

Ava's eyes snapped open. The voice was coming from the other side of the bathroom door.

Her entire body froze. Nah!

She bolted upright in the tub, sending water splashing onto the marble floor. "Z-Zach?!" she sputtered.

There was a beat of silence before the voice confirmed her worst nightmare.

"Obviously... and I'd like to know why you addressed me with that name."

Ava clamped a hand over her mouth, mentally rewinding everything she had just done in the last two seconds. 

Right!

When she gave her vows back at the church, she literally referred to him as Zeke, and the man didn't even correct her. Not even a flinch, a twitch, or a single attempt to clear the confusion. He just let her carry on, completely unbothered.

But why?

Ava furrowed her brows, thinking back to Lady Ford's words. 

Your parents were forced to accept it.

That phrase kept circling in her head like an annoying notification she couldn't dismiss. Why keep it hidden from the public as if they would care? What kind of a sick joke is this?

I mean, she's not really the one to talk, because if anyone knew about the stupid contract she literally signed with Eva only because she got drunk, it would become more complicated.

Her lips quivered slightly as she let out a frustrated sigh. There must be a reason behind all of this, and she was going to find out.

With that, she turned on the shower, letting the warm water rinse off the remnants of her ridiculous milk bath.

She quickly stripped off the remaining wet garments, tossing them aside to wash for later before reaching for the bathrobe hanging neatly on the rack. It was—of course—gray. Because apparently, Zach's entire existence was themed around looking like a brooding storm cloud.

Tying the robe securely around her waist, Ava stepped out of the shower and padded towards the mirror. She ran a hand through her damp hair, sighing.

She wasn't usually the type to care too much about appearances when she's at home, but after the day she just had? The least she could do was make sure she didn't look like a drowned rat before facing Mr. Emo Ford.

Her reflection stared back at her—tired, yes, but still absolutely breathtaking. Of course, she was Ava Summers, after all.

The living embodiment of I woke up like this—flawless, even after an exhausting day of accidental marriage, deception, and a milk bath she never asked for.

Taking a deep breath, she turned towards the door.

This was it. She was about to come face-to-face with the man who single-handedly made her revenge planned earlier—the man with an atrocious WiFi name.

The moment Ava opened the door, she was met with Zach's face—sharp, brooding, and completely unreadable. His dark, damp hair clung slightly to his forehead, and just like her, he was clad in a gray bathrobe.

The only thing more lifeless than his expression was the colorless wallpaper. It was as if everything around them had been drained of vibrancy, leaving only shades of gray… and, well, Zach.

Ava blinked. For a second, she thought she might have opened the door to a ghost. Maybe this house was haunted, and she had actually married a specter. That would explain a lot.

"W-What was that you were asking?" she managed, still gripping the doorknob as if letting go would make things more real.

Zach didn't answer right away. His gaze swept over her, eyes momentarily flicking to the barely tied belt of her robe, then back up to her face. He let out a slow exhale before speaking, his voice as flat as the walls around them.

"Can you step out, please?"

"You can ask me right here," Ava refused, standing her ground like a noblewoman denying an invitation to a peasant's ball. 

Zach, however, didn't seem amused. His expression didn't change—mostly because it never did—but the sheer intensity of his stare made the air feel ten degrees colder. It wasn't exactly a glare, not in the traditional sense. No, his face was just built for intimidation, sculpted by some higher power to strike fear into the hearts of the weak. 

Ava, of course, was not weak. 

But she also wasn't stupid. 

With a reluctant sigh, she stepped outside, tightening the belt of her robe as if it could somehow shield her from whatever absurdity was about to unfold.

Ava gracefully lowered herself onto the dull Victorian chair, its rigid structure as uncomfortable as the situation she found herself in. But touching the bed? That would be treason. An act of war. A declaration of something she absolutely did not want to entertain. 

Zach, meanwhile, scanned the room for a place to sit, his gaze sweeping over the equally lifeless furniture. The only other chair was inconveniently placed on the far side of the room, practically a pilgrimage away. His eyes flickered to the bed for half a second before he quickly looked away, as if the mere thought of sitting on it was some unspeakable crime. 

Ava crossed her legs, tilting her head slightly. "You can sit on the floor if you want. Very fitting for someone with that WiFi name." 

Zach exhaled sharply, unamused. But rather than dignify her remark with a response, he took a step forward and leaned against the desk, arms crossed. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than letting her have the satisfaction of thinking she'd won. 

"Well?" Ava cleared her throat.

"I take it you didn't realize it wasn't Zeke you married back in the church, did you?" Zach started in a low, annoyed tone. "Judging by the way you so confidently addressed me during our vows, I'd say you only figured it out after the reception."

Ava scoffed, crossing her arms. "Please." She turned toward the grand window, staring out as if the view could erase her irritation. "I knew the moment I asked you about that damned mole on your neck that you didn't have."

Zach arched a brow. "So, not during the vows? Not even when you kissed me in front of everyone?"

Ava's jaw clenched. "I was distracted."

"By what?"

She waved vaguely. "The wedding, Zachary! It couldn't have been so obvious, could it?"

Zach tilted head. "So, in summary—you were so caught up in the moment, you didn't notice you were vowing your eternal love to the wrong twin until you started inspecting my skin?"

Ava turned to glare at him, brow arched. "Don't make it sound weird."

Zach's gaze suddenly sharpened. "You know," he mused, tilting his head ever so slightly, "I've always known you had a thing for me."

Ava nearly choked on her own breath. "Excuse me?"

Zach continued, completely unfazed. "According to Zeke, you're reckless, overly chatty, painfully opinionated, and so cheerful it borders on delirium—oh, and let's not forget, you were so eager to meet me that you were willing to cross the Pacific Ocean just for the chance."

Ava's mouth opened, but no words came out.

"And with all that," Zach went on in his same maddeningly calm tone, "I fully expected you to throw yourself at me the moment you realized you married the twin you actually liked." His eyes narrowed, scanning her face as if searching for some hidden emotion. Then, with a slow blink, he sighed. "Frankly, I'm a little disappointed."

Ava swallowed hard. Damn it. Knowing Eva, she absolutely would have crossed the Pacific Ocean. Hell, that woman would probably march straight into the afterlife, have a casual chat with the Grim Reaper, and stroll right back completely unscathed—all just to get what she wanted.

How the hell did Zeke know all this? And more importantly, why did he feel the need to give his brooding, emotionally constipated brother a full documentary on Eva's alleged romantic exploits?

Ava could practically see it now—Zeke, lounging with an infuriating smirk, going, "Oh yeah, Eva? She's totally obsessed with you. She's reckless, funny, babbles a lot, and would probably swim the entire Pacific Ocean just to see you. Pfft, she's crazy about you."

And now she—Ava Summers—was supposed to just accept this madness?

"Ah-ha ha ha yeah!" Ava blurted, snapping her fingers like an unhinged magician. "Yeah, I-I actually did that, ha ha ha! Silly me!"

"Unless you didn't."

Ava paused mid-laugh. Only her eyes moved to look back at Zach whose brows are already knitting together.

"You're not Eva Summers, aren't you?"