The Swan and the Serpent by Yan Stellar
The Swan and the Serpent
Description
Everly Akers has survived a cheating husband, a childhood she can't talk about, and a body that flinches at every touch. Now her ex has dumped his criminal debts onto her name, a faceless stalker is closing in, and she has nowhere left to run. Murphy Donnelly is the only person who shows up for her. He's ten years younger and impossibly beautiful. He gives her a home, safety, and teaches her that not every touch has to hurt. What Everly doesn't know is that Murphy considers himself incapable of true love. A self-made puppeteer, he engineers dependency without a shred of remorse. But somewhere between the manipulation and the control, Murphy's strings start pulling back. And the puppet master discovers what happens when the game becomes real.
Chapter 1
Aug 26, 2026
Everly's POV
I need a gun.
The day was… Something.
A customer screamed at me for twenty minutes over a teapot with a hairline crack. My landlord called twice about late rent.
And I spilled an entire cup of chamomile on a stack of receipts Gianna spent an hour organizing.
But then Murphy walked in. My favourite regular, right on schedule.
He picked up the soggy receipt on top, read the smeared ink, and said with a straight face, "I think this one says you owe the Queen four thousand pounds."
I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. In moments like that, and not only those, I'm glad he's the one who keeps coming back.
Luckily, I'm almost home now, and I can't wait to tell my husband that another of his debts is paid off!
Arthur never asked me to help with the debts. I offered to help myself because that's what you do for your beloved ones.
And Arthur is the love of my life. I don't think I'll ever be able to find anyone who'd love me as sincere as him, with all my flaws.
My phone buzzes in my coat pocket with another email from the temp agency. I swipe it away and dig for my keys.
I could pick up a third job at that café near the station, weekends shifts.
The tips aren't great but the owner is a man of few words and values people who are willing to work.
Arthur borrowed from so many people this year I lost count: his university friends, colleagues, a guy he played football with once…
'For the business,' he always said. 'It'll pay off, Everly, I promise.'
I haven't doubted his words once. I love him, and you don't leave someone to drown in their own mess.
He'd do the same for me.
I push the door of our flat open. "Honey, I'm ho–"
"Ah fuck, yes, Arthur! Fuck me like I'm your slut!"
The sounds hit me before the picture does. Skin against skin, a woman's moan. And my beloved husband Arthur's voice.
That low, rough voice he used to save only for me.
"Shit, Megan, you feel so damn good..."
The hallway light is off but the bedroom door is wide open. I stand in the doorway as my bag slides off my shoulder and hits the floor.
They don't stop at the sound of it. Megan is on top of him, her blonde hair swinging, and for five full seconds I think I'm in the wrong flat.
I actually look at the doorframe, at the little scratch where I dragged the bookshelf last March.
It's my flat. And that's my husband right there, shamelessly fucking another woman on our bed.
Megan is the friend of his that he always told me not to worry about.
'She's just a colleague, Ev.' Arthur would smile and kiss my temple. 'You'd like her, actually.'
And I did like her. She told me I had beautiful skin, that my hair looks very healthy and asked for the routine so sincerely that you'd never suspect there was a catch.
She also said Arthur and I were the cutest couple she'd ever met.
Finally, Arthur turns his head in my direction and sees me first and there's not even a single flinch.
Do I not deserve at least something? Not even a cliche 'it's not how it looks, I can explain'? But all Arthur does is tapping Megan on the hip, drawing her attention.
I bet she'd still be riding my husband's dick if he hadn't done that.
Megan rolls off him, pulling the duvet around herself with this little annoyed sigh and roll of eyes.
Excuse me? Did I interrupted something highly important in my own flat with my own husband?
"You're home early," Arthur says casually and sits up against the headboard.
"That's it?" My voice comes out in a whisper. "I caught you cheating and that's all you have to say?"
"Don't start with the drama, Everly." He runs his hand through his hair and looks at Megan. "Get dressed, babe. I'll meet you downstairs."
Babe?! How dare he call another woman like that in front of his own wife?!
Megan gathers her clothes without looking at me before squeezing past me in the doorway.
Her expensive, sweet perfume wraps around my neck like a noose. I press myself against the wall so she doesn't touch me.
Why the hell do I not have the guts to slap her?
"You told me she was just a friend…" I say when I hear the front door close.
"She's not your business, and that's all you need to know."
Arthur stands up. He pulls on boxers, a shirt follows. He moves around the room like I'm furniture.
"Look, I was going to tell you. My solicitor will send you the divorce paperwork this week. Try not to make it difficult, alrighty?"
My knees buckle but I don't sit down. I grip the doorframe.
"You were going to… Arthur, we've been married for eight years. I've been working double shifts to pay off your debts, and you were going to tell me through a solicitor?"
"Yeah, well. You always take everything so personally." He zips up his bag. A bag that was already packed, I notice. "I'll be at Megan's. Don't try to contact me."
He walks past me without slowing down, his shoulder doesn't even brush mine.
The front door opens and shuts. The flat goes so quiet I can hear the fridge humming in the kitchen.
I slide down the wall until I'm sitting on the floor.
The wedding photo is still on the shelf. Him in the grey suit, me in the secondhand wedding dress I'd spent two months tailoring.
When did Arthur stop wanting me? When he said he was too tired for sex, was it because of her?
When he stayed late at work, was it the office, or was it because of her too?
When he dropped the promise of helping me start my own little business, was that the moment he'd already checked out?
I pull the photo off the shelf. My reflection stares back from the glass, pale and red-eyed.
I sit on the floor with the photo pressed to my chest and cry until my ribs hurt. The flat darkens around me.
The banging starts around midnight, hard enough to rattle the chain.
"A-Arthur? Is that you?" I scramble back on my hands until my spine hits the wall.
The banging gets louder, and then there's a crack of the lock giving out. The door flies open and two big men in masks and black jackets burst in.
The first one grabs me by the arm and shoves me flat on my stomach, my chin hits the floor and I taste blood.
The second man crouches next to me and grabs a fistful of my hair, pulling my head up.
"Where's Arthur Barder?" His breath smells like cigarettes. I hate that smell.
"I don't know," I choke out. "He left hours ago. I don't know where he is, I swear to God, I don't…"
"Stop rumbling on, bitch!" He lets go of my hair and my face drops back to the floor. "You're his wife, yeah?"
"Yes, but I…"
"Then you'll do just fine." He stands up. "Your husband owes our boss money. A lot of money. He's been patient long enough."
"I don't know anything about that," I whisper while my whole body is shaking. Tears run sideways across my face and pool on the floor. "I didn't know he owed anyone, please!"
The first man laughs. He nudges me with his boot.
"You picked a real winner, chick. He dumped every penny of his debt on your name without batting an eye. You're the borrower now. Congrats."
Arthur did… WHAT?!
"That's not possible," I say. "I never signed anything! I never…"
"We don't do paperwork, honey." Another man laughs. "Here's the deal. You have two weeks. You come up with the money, or we start cutting pieces off you and leaving them around the neighborhood."
He pats my cheek hard. More of a slap than a pat. They leave through the broken door while I lie on the floor in the dark and don't move.
My husband left me to be torn apart by the gangsters.
The Swan and the Serpent
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