1 Six years into our long-distance relationship, I finally saved up enough for a down payment. I traveled to her city without telling her, wanting to surprise her with a ring and a trip to City Hall. When the receptionist heard I was looking for Stephanie, she smiled warmly and handed me a small, beautifully wrapped box of wedding favors. “Are you here for the reception? Our CEO, Ms. Stephanie, is getting married today. These are for the guests.” I opened my mouth to explain that the Stephanie I was looking for was just a low-level clerk, but then the elevator doors slid open. A familiar figure stepped out. It was Gemma, Stephanie’s best friend. Taking in her elegant bridesmaid dress, a cold knot formed in my chest. “Is someone getting married today? Why did nobody tell me?” Before she could answer, her phone rang. The speaker was loud enough for me to hear Marcus’s voice blasting through. “Where the hell are you? Stephanie and Sebastian’s ceremony is about to start! You’re the maid of honor, Gemma. You better get up here right now!” Gemma’s face drained of color. She panicked, frantically trying to hide the phone behind her back. “Is Stephanie getting married today?” Gemma’s silence said everything. I didn’t even know what I was feeling anymore. The numbness was suffocating. My own voice sounded hollow, distant. “Take me up. We’ve been together for ten years, after all.” A jagged tear ripped through my chest, raw and bleeding. Ten years. Four years in college, six years long-distance. I had brought up marriage so many times. Every single time, she had an excuse: the distance was too hard, or her career was at a standstill. “Owen,” she used to tell me, “I’ll only marry you once we can afford a house in Boston.” That was why I worked myself to the bone, why I skipped meals and pulled double shifts, just to surprise her with a life together. And this was the surprise waiting for me. Gemma didn’t say a word the whole way up. When we reached the grand ballroom on the third floor, she hesitated at the double doors, biting her lip. “Maybe… maybe we shouldn’t go in.” I pushed the doors open anyway. The swells of the wedding march washed over me, loud and mocking. Along the walls were beautifully framed photos of Stephanie and another man. Their first meeting, their proposal, every milestone of their romance was meticulously captured. And in some of those photos, our mutual friends, even my best buddies, were smiling right alongside them. I counted the years on the captions. Five years. Five whole years. I looked around the room. Almost everyone sitting at the tables was someone I knew. Standing near the altar as groomsmen were my own close friends, including Marcus. They all knew. They knew Stephanie was never a struggling office worker, and they knew she was getting married today. I mapped out the dates. While Stephanie was vacationing in Europe with Sebastian, I was drinking myself to a pulp at business dinners, throwing up blood just to secure a client. While they were shooting high-end wedding photos in Paris, I was working three consecutive weeks at the office, nearly dying of exhaustion. None of them had said a word to me. I could practically hear their whispers. Pitiful Owen, working so hard for nothing, while they laughed at my pathetic struggle behind my back. While I hesitated over a fifty-dollar clearance jacket, Sebastian’s cufflinks alone cost thousands. The party favors Stephanie handed out so casually were worth a fortune, yet she had constantly played poor in front of me. The memories cut like broken glass. When the newlyweds walked down the aisle to toast the tables, Stephanie finally saw me. Her mask slipped for a fraction of a second. Sebastian looked at me, confused. “And who is this?” Stephanie’s voice was smooth, detached. “Just a college classmate.” I stared at her, utterly shattered. But her eyes were already back on Sebastian. Sebastian smiled and clinked his glass against mine. “Since you’re Stephanie’s old classmate, you must have a drink with us. Thank you for coming today.” I could only offer a bitter, empty smile. Ten years of devotion, and she didn’t even have the courage to acknowledge who I was. My phone buzzed in my pocket. A message from Stephanie: [I’ll explain everything later. Just be good for now.] A second later, an email notification popped up. It was a non-disclosure agreement. The terms were simple: if I did anything to disrupt her marriage with Sebastian, I would owe a devastating sum in damages. But the most horrifying part was the signature at the bottom. I had already signed it. Sebastian noticed my pale face. “Are you alright?” I forced a tight smile. “Fine. Just… I’ve never seen Stephanie look so in love. It’s a bit of a surprise.” Their hands were tightly clasped, fingers interwoven perfectly. In our ten years together, Stephanie had never once initiated holding my hand. Sebastian’s eyes shone with the pride of a groom. “She usually acts so cold and strict at the office, but she’s incredibly gentle with me.” No, Stephanie wasn’t just gentle with him. She was devoted. On the massive LED screens, a slideshow of their ninety-nine pre-wedding photos played on a loop. In ten years, our photos together could be counted on one hand, and whenever we did take one, she made me delete it. But on that screen, she was radiant. She smiled, she laughed, her cheeks flushing red when Sebastian leaned in to kiss her cheek. Stephanie spoke softly to him, “Are your feet hurting? Do you want to change shoes?” “I’m fine,” Sebastian laughed, turning to me. “See? She’s incredibly attentive. Always remembers the little things.” But her care had never once extended to me. Whenever I was too sick to get out of bed after pulling all-nighters, her phone was always unreachable. She was always “busy with work,” only replying the next day, before ignoring me again. I had convinced myself she was just quiet, reserved, bad at expressing herself. I made endless excuses for her. She forgot our anniversaries because she didn’t care for superficial dates. She ignored my needs because she was stressed at work. Today, I finally saw the truth. She had plenty of warmth and romance; she had just saved all of it for someone else. I don’t know how I survived until the end of the reception. It was only when I locked myself inside my cheap motel room that the dam broke, and I sobbed until my chest was raw. When Stephanie and I first started dating, we were desperately poor. I came from a small mountain town, working every odd job I could find. Though Stephanie was a local, she claimed her family was struggling too. We often worked at the same part-time jobs. She never let me pay for anything, always rushing to grab the bill. “I don’t have much,” she’d say, “but I’m not letting you spend your hard-earned money.” While other couples planned trips, we planned how to stretch a single dollar. There was nothing about her that suggested she was an heiress to a massive corporate fortune. After graduation, she said her family found her a job in Boston, while I took a position in another city. During those long-distance years, she claimed she was pulling late nights just to save up for our future wedding. My heart ached for her, and I wanted to carry her burden. Every time she complained about her boss cutting her commission, I transferred half of my freelance earnings to her account. It was exhausting, but I felt so incredibly blessed. Blessed enough that even now, seeing the truth with my own eyes, I could barely process it. That night, a knock sounded at my door. Stephanie stood outside. She didn’t waste time. “Sebastian and I… it’s a family alliance. In families like mine, we don’t get a choice in these matters.” I stared at her. “The NDA. When did I sign that?” Her eyes flickered. “Three years ago.” A memory flashed in my mind. Three years ago, the year I worked myself to near-death. I had pulled a solid week of all-nighters and almost fainted at a bus stop. Hearing the weakness in my voice over the phone, Stephanie had rushed over to see me, bringing a stack of paperwork. “It’s a non-disclosure agreement for a new project at work,” she had said. “They need a relative’s signature to guarantee it.” I had hesitated. “But we aren’t married yet.” She had smiled warmly, her voice full of promise. “We will be soon anyway, won’t we?” Full of joy and hope, I had signed my name. While I believed she was finally building a future with me, she was already structuring her marriage to another man. Stephanie’s expression softened with a trace of pity. “If you just behave, you can still stay with me. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. You can choose any luxury apartment you want, and I’ll give you fifteen thousand dollars a month.” I stared at her in utter disbelief. “You want me to be your… kept man? Your side piece?” Stephanie didn’t see the issue. “You always complain about how exhausted you are at work. Staying with me will be much easier…” Before she could finish, my hand flew across her face. The slap echoed in the small room. She knew. She knew my own mother had spiraled into severe depression because she had been forced into being a mistress. She knew how much I despised that dynamic, yet she offered it to me as if it were a privilege. Stephanie’s face darkened. Seeing my tear-stained face, she softened her tone again. “Owen, think about it. What kind of life did your mother live? Do you really want to repeat her misery? At least I won’t abandon you like your father did.” I screamed at her, physically shoving and kicking her out of the room. The next morning, my phone rang. It was my mother, her voice trembling with fury and shame. “How could you do this? How could I raise such a disgusting child?” Someone had taken photos of Stephanie entering my motel room and turned it into an online article. The headline was vile: “Billionaire CEO Weds, Instantly Caught with Secret Boy Toy at Cheap Motel.” The comment section was a toxic wasteland. Someone had leaked my phone number and ID. The harassment poured in like a flood. “Owen, how could you become one of those people?” my mother sobbed. “You know what I went through.” “Mom, I’m not a homewrecker, I swear…” “Stop lying!” her voice shrieked. “If you aren’t her secret lover, why was she visiting your motel room in the middle of the night?” I couldn’t explain it to her, so I desperately posted my own evidence online, proving we had been together for ten years. The internet went into a frenzy. But my post was taken down almost immediately. That was when Sebastian found me. “Owen, we need to talk. I’m sorry for the inconvenience my friends caused you, but your post is causing significant trouble for both our families. We need you to go live on social media and admit you’re the homewrecker.” My mother’s screams still echoed in my ears, and now Sebastian was handing me the blade, demanding I plunge it into my own chest. “And if I refuse?” A cold, ruthless light entered his eyes. “Have you forgotten what you promised Stephanie? You violated the NDA by disrupting our marriage. Do you want me to calculate how much you owe us? If you apologize on live stream, I’ll give you an extra eighty thousand dollars.” I ended up agreeing. “Fine. I’ll apologize.” The live stream opened, and a barrage of insults immediately flooded the screen. I forced a jagged, empty smile. “I’m sorry. I apologize for not keeping my mouth shut and quietly swallowing this bitter pill. I suppose I should have just smiled while the woman I loved for ten years married someone else. It’s just a green light, right? I should wear it proudly.” The words “Sebastian’s Homewrecker” trended instantly. Stephanie, absolutely furious, cut the stream off. She laughed, a bitter, angry sound. “Owen, you grew up in the mountains. You clearly don’t understand how the rules of our world work.” A sudden chill ran down my spine. “Do you remember how your mother was dragged across the internet years ago?” She tapped her phone and turned the screen toward me. It was an old webpage screenshot from over a decade ago. The headline screamed: High School Teacher Exiled as Mistress, Beaten in Broad Daylight by Wife. “If this goes viral again, do you think your mother can survive a second wave of harassment?” I fell to my knees, sobbing, begging Stephanie to spare my mother. My mother’s fragile mental state couldn’t take another hit. It would kill her. Stephanie’s eyes flashed with a momentary pang of guilt, but she pressed send anyway. “You hurt Sebastian. You have to pay the price.” “No! Please…” I dragged myself over, begging Sebastian. “I’m sorry, Mr. Sebastian. I was stupid. Please, just leave my mother out of this!” The old scandal exploded online. My mother, who had barely crawled out of that dark abyss, was dragged right back in. Seeing my complete breakdown, Sebastian smiled warmly. “If you apologize properly on stream, I’ll let it go.” I went live again, enduring an even worse onslaught of abuse. Stephanie’s expression softened slightly. “Your mother will be fine. I’ve already sent people to watch over her.” She stepped out to take a call. Sebastian looked down at me. “Aren’t you curious how we found out about your mother’s past?” Marcus stepped out from the shadows. My mind went completely blank. The person who had handed them the ammunition was Marcus. “Why?” I whispered. “Why would you do this to me?” Marcus laughed. “I’m doing this for your own good, Owen. Stephanie has always loved Sebastian. Why are you clinging to another man’s wife?” Marcus had been my brother since childhood. When his parents wanted to pull him out of high school to put him to work, I was the one who paid his tuition so he could finish his education. Even when he kept Stephanie’s wedding a secret, I hadn’t blamed him. But I never imagined he would be the one to push me off the cliff. Before the security guards threw me out, Sebastian whispered in my ear, “Oh, and by the way, those people Stephanie sent to watch your mother? I called them off hours ago.” It felt like a physical blow. I frantically called home, only to receive the news that shattered my world: my mother had jumped from her apartment building. The sheer weight of the despair suffocated me. My limbs went entirely cold. Through blurred eyes, I saw a text from Stephanie: [I deleted the post and handled the online rumors. Sebastian won’t touch you anymore. We can go back to how we were.] I turned on my livestream, ignoring the torrent of hate, walked to the edge of the bridge, and jumped into the freezing river. Stephanie, we can never go back. On the other side of town, Stephanie, sitting beside Sebastian, happened to scroll past the stream of my leap. Sebastian scoffed, “Probably just a desperate stunt for attention.” Stephanie’s racing heart settled. Right. Owen wasn’t the type to do something so foolish. But a second later, her assistant burst into the room, pale and trembling. “Ma’am, it’s bad. He really jumped!”
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