Author: Momo Chan

My husband stole my flower shop dream and gave it to his mistress to open. She pointed at my design sketch and bragged: “My husband drew this for me himself. He said I deserved everything.” The husband she was talking about was mine—Dante Moretti, the most dangerous Don in Chicago. Three years ago, when I told him I wanted to open a flower shop, all Dante said was, “Don’t embarrass me with your little-girl fantasies.” Turns out the flower shop wasn’t the embarrassment. I was the one who didn’t deserve it. Later, Dante publicly announced she was his real wife, and forced me—pregnant—to admit I was some deranged nanny, and to apologize to her. I did it. Then I signed the divorce papers, terminated the pregnancy, and left Chicago. Dante thought I was just angry. He was wrong. This time, I wasn’t coming back. … The bell above the flower shop door chimed. Mia hurried forward, beaming. “My husband sent someone to pick up the flowers!” I followed her gaze— It was Carlo. Dante’s most trusted man. The moment Carlo saw me, the color drained from his face. “Donna…” Mia noticed nothing. She reached under the counter and lifted out a dark green velvet box. “Carlo, perfect timing. Can you give this back to Dante for me? He pushed it on me last night, but it’s just too expensive. I can’t accept it.” Carlo reached for it. His hand was trembling. So was mine. Because I recognized that box. Inside was a diamond necklace—the one Dante had flown to Geneva last week to bid on at auction. Our fifth wedding anniversary was only days away. I’d thought it was meant for me. I’d been looking forward to it. How pathetic. “He came so late last night, though,” Mia pouted. “Said something had held him up.” Last night was my birthday. I’d waited for Dante all evening. All I got was one text: “Something’s come up at the club. Don’t wait up. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” Turns out the thing that had “held him up”—was me. On Dante Moretti’s schedule, his wife had been filed under “delays.” If I hadn’t wandered into this flower shop by chance, how much longer would I have gone on living inside this lie? I forced myself to stay calm and told myself it was time to leave. But as I turned, my eyes caught the wall inside the shop—a hand-drawn sketch, framed in warm white. A vine-covered archway. A rose-lined window. An old piano. In the bottom right corner, a ginger cat dozing in a flower basket. My feet froze. Three years ago, one winter afternoon, I’d curled up on the couch and spent hours drawing the flower shop of my dreams. Then I brought it to Dante. “Someday, if I get the chance, I want to open a shop just like this.” He’d barely glanced at it. “You’re the Donna of the Moretti family, not some girl with her head in the clouds. Stop wasting your time on this nonsense.” He’d rolled up the sketch and tossed it into a drawer in his study. Later, the sketch disappeared. Dante said someone had thrown it out as scrap paper while cleaning up the study. That evening, he had Carlo send over a bouquet as an apology. “It’s gone. It was just a piece of paper.” I tried to draw it again afterward, but I could never quite recapture the feeling of that first one. For three years, I’d believed it had really been thrown away. It hadn’t. It had been framed and hung on Mia’s wall. No wonder this place had felt so strangely familiar. Dante had followed my blueprint—stroke by stroke—and built another woman’s dream instead. “Do you like it, ma’am?” Mia’s eyes crinkled with delight. “My husband drew it for me himself. Isn’t he amazing?” “Next time, I’m going to ask him to draw my favorite—lilies. Roses are so tacky…” Her husband. Drawn by his own hand. Dante had stolen my dream, signed his own name to it, and given it to his other wife. He’d said a flower shop would make the Morettis a laughingstock. He’d wanted me quiet. Presentable. Useful. I held things together at The Velvet Room for him, managed the old guard, cleaned up every mess. But the moment I spoke a word out of turn, he’d remind me in front of everyone: “Elena, all you need to do is be a good wife.” Turns out, all along, he’d been doing just one thing: Snuffing out my light—so he could use it to shine on someone else. The reason he’d crushed me and the gift he’d given her were, quite literally, the same piece of paper. A cold went through me. As I stepped out of the shop, Carlo followed. “Donna, I—” I didn’t look at him. I was only thinking one thing. What was stolen from me—it’s time I took it back.

At the family meeting the next day, I finished my report on the previous night’s incident at the casino. What could have turned into a full-blown shootout, I’d shut down. No gunfire. No blood. It was the cleanest job I’d handled since becoming a Moretti. Dante knew that. Then, without warning, Dante shoved the ledger across the table and lit a cigar. “This is what happens when you let a woman get involved in the business.” “Just because nothing blew up doesn’t mean she did the right thing. Letting my wife clean up my mess sends a message to Chicago: that Dante Moretti can’t even hold his own turf.” He never once looked at me. In a room of more than twenty men, all I could hear was my own breathing. “A woman should learn how to be a good wife—not give orders on behalf of her man. Elena, you need to understand that.” “As for the one with the loose mouth—she’ll learn her lesson.” He was telling everyone I’d overstepped, and that someone would pay for my presumption. I knew then—this meeting had no place for me anymore. I walked out of the study and found Grace, the old housemaid, in a corner of the garden. She was crying so quietly she barely dared breathe. Last night, when the casino called the estate, Dante hadn’t been home. So she’d knocked on my door. She wasn’t yet fifty. Her husband was dead. She was raising a son in school on her own, and taking care of a sick mother. An extra ten dollars a month could break her. With a single word, Dante could destroy her life. “Grace, I’ll handle last night. You go home. Spend time with your mother.” I handed her a tissue and tried to keep my voice light. Grace looked up, eyes red-rimmed. “Donna, you were the one who fixed it last night. Why would the Don—” “Don’t.” I gave her a small smile. “Go on home.” After Grace left, I stood there for a long time. I didn’t want to go back to the estate and face Dante, so I went to my mother’s. The living room was full of flowers—lilies, their scent sharp enough to sting. Mom was sitting on the edge of the couch, clutching a tissue. Her nose was red, her eyes swollen. “Where did all these come from?” “Dante ordered them for me. Twice a week.” Her smile was thin. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they? You’ve always loved flowers.” “I’m fine. Don’t stir up trouble with Dante over a few bouquets. I’m fine.” My hands slowly clenched. The last time she’d had a reaction, it was because Dante had filled the house with lilies. She’d toughed it out until she couldn’t breathe, and had to be rushed to the ER by 911. Four days in the hospital. I’d told Dante. He said he’d remember. Turns out the way he “remembered” was to have flowers delivered twice a week. I looked down. Every bouquet had the same little card attached: Mia’s Blooms. The audacity. Dante didn’t remember that my mother had nearly died from a pollen allergy. But he remembered to send business Mia’s way. I threw every one of the bouquets out. That evening, I got back to the estate, pushed open the door—and stopped dead. The whole house was full of flowers. The foyer, the dining table, beside the fireplace—everywhere, the white lilies I hated most. I looked out at the garden. The rose bushes I’d planted with my own hands had been ripped out. In the freshly turned soil, rows upon rows of white lilies stood at attention. Dante came out of his study, his expression uncharacteristically soft. “Do you like it? You said you wanted to wake up to flowers every day.” I had said that. But I’d never imagined every bouquet would come from his other wife. My fingertips started to go numb. He’d torn out the flowers I’d planted myself, and filled my home with Mia’s favorite bloom. He’d turned me into his other wife’s biggest customer—and I was supposed to thank him for the romance. “What is it? You don’t like them?” Dante crossed to me and slid an arm around my waist. He bent to kiss me. In my head, a single image flashed— The vine-covered archway. The rose window. The old piano. Mia’s voice, smiling: “My husband drew this for me himself.” My stomach heaved. I shoved Dante off and clapped a hand over my mouth as I bolted for the bathroom. I threw up until I was crying. Dante followed me in and handed me a warm towel. “Bad food?” I shook my head, bracing myself against the sink, gasping. The face in the mirror was ghost-white. He frowned. Then something seemed to occur to him, and his gaze dropped. “Elena—are you pregnant?”

I’d meant to save the news of the pregnancy for our fifth wedding anniversary. Seven years together. I’d imagined the moment more times than I could count— Sliding the ultrasound across the table, watching him freeze, then break into a smile. Now, in the wake of Dante’s “something’s come up at the club,” and the framed sketch on Mia’s wall, that “surprise” had turned into a punchline. Dante looked at the report. He was pleased. He helped me up from the bathroom floor and crouched, pressing his cheek against my stomach. “I was too harsh at the meeting.” “It won’t happen again. You just focus on the baby.” He also said he’d make it up to me publicly, in front of everyone. On the night of our anniversary, I put on the cashmere coat I’d worn the first time I met Dante, clasped on the jewelry set he’d given me at our wedding, and arrived at the private ballroom. Dante had spared no expense for our fifth anniversary dinner. But my blood was turning colder by the second. The entire room was drowning in white lilies—the long table, the fireplace, the flower wall behind the head seats—all white, the scent so thick I could barely breathe. Beside my place setting sat a dark green velvet box. The diamond necklace. The very thing Mia hadn’t dared accept had become Dante’s anniversary gift to me. A few of the wives were murmuring not far off. “Donna Moretti has such unusual taste. For a second I thought I’d wandered into someone’s wake.” “Mia’s Blooms again. Every Moretti event lately. You don’t suppose the owner is the Don’s mistress, do you?” “If I were her, I certainly wouldn’t be smiling…” But I did. I smiled. I just kept smiling—until my eyes began to burn. My fifth wedding anniversary with Dante—every flower, every gift—belonged to another woman. I didn’t wait for Dante to arrive. I stood up and walked out. I went to Mia’s Blooms. Mia was behind the counter looking over some sketches. When she saw me, she set down her pen and hurried over. “Ma’am, perfect timing! My husband said he’s opening a second location for me. Soon all of Chicago will know Mia’s Blooms!” Her face was radiant with joy. I said nothing. I walked to the wall and stared at the framed sketch. “Are you planning to steal someone else’s design for the second one too?” Mia went still. “What?” “This drawing—I spent an entire afternoon on it, three winters ago.” I turned to face her. “The cat in the bottom right corner? He was mine as a child. I lost him when I was eight. I put him in the sketch on purpose.” “You said roses were tacky. So why the rose window?” Mia’s face went white. “You know I’m his wife.” My voice was calm. “You know the money for this shop came from my husband. You know that’s my drawing on your wall. You know this shop was my dream. And still, you had the nerve to call my husband yours.” A woman in the shop hurled her bouquet to the floor. “A shop opened by the mistress? That’s disgusting.” Half a dozen phones went up at once. Mia stumbled backward, knocking over a flower stand. Glass shattered across the floor. “Please, stop filming, please…” She crouched down amid the broken flowers and shards of glass, her voice shaking. Suddenly, I found the whole thing unbearably pointless. I was turning to leave when Dante burst in. Smack. The hand with the wedding ring struck me hard across the face. I staggered back, crashing into a flower stand behind me. Broken glass drove into my palm. Blood welled up fast. A sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen. The color drained from my face. Dante didn’t look at me. He shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around Mia, pulling her against his chest, murmuring gently. “It’s all right. I’m here. No one’s going to touch you.” Once Mia was calm, Dante came over and crouched down in front of me. On the surface, it looked like he was inspecting the wound. What he said was: “Apologize to Mia. Then we can put this behind us.” I clutched my bleeding hand, staring at him in disbelief. “Dante—have you lost your mind?” “You’re carrying a child.” His voice was low, meant only for my ears. “Don’t blow this up.” Cold flooded through me. “And if I don’t apologize?” Dante looked at me. His tone was terrifyingly even. “Suit yourself. But tonight, Grace disappears from the estate. Her life is over.” “Elena. You know I can do it.”

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By the tenth year of my marriage to the Moretti Don, I was finally tired of it all. I stopped checking which villa Lucien Moretti had gone to at night, or which woman he had slept with. And I no longer cared whether he loved me. Even when the family doctor sent over birth control pills, I swallowed them without so much as a frown. Lucien returned to the Moretti estate after dark. He stood beside the bed and said my name in a low voice. “Clara, I haven’t been back the past few days because Vivian got hurt.” “She chased a crew that had hijacked one of our shipments into an alley and got slashed.” “You know what she’s like. If I hadn’t gone, she would’ve kept pushing herself.” I lifted the covers and shifted farther into the bed. “It’s fine. Go to sleep. You still have to meet with the committee tomorrow.” Lucien seemed to pause. “You’re really not upset?” I nodded. Who didn’t have someone they never quite got over? Funny thing was, mine had just come back too. … Lucien remained beside the bed, unmoving. “I’m the Moretti Don. I can’t exactly stand by and let her cause trouble on my turf.” I finally opened my eyes and smiled. “You’ve always been compassionate.” My gaze dropped to the streak of red on his cuff. Vivian’s favorite shade of lipstick. Years ago, when the Sterling family needed to marry one of its daughters into the Moretti family, my half sister Vivian had dropped to her knees in front of me. “Clara, I don’t want to be trapped in some Mafia estate.” “I still want to ride motorcycles. I want to run gun routes. I want to be myself.” “Marry Lucien in my place. Please.” I said yes. Later, I became the Donna of the Moretti family. Vivian remained wild and free. But after our marriage, Lucien went to see her every night at a private house in the suburbs. There, they lived like a real couple, free and unrestrained. And I stayed behind in the heavily guarded Moretti estate. Lucien reached for me. I turned my face away. His hand froze in midair. A moment later, he pulled a paper bag from his coat pocket. Inside was a rabbit-shaped caramel, already half melted out of shape. “Saw it on the way back.” “The medicine tastes bitter.” “Have something sweet.” I stared at the misshapen candy rabbit, unsure what I was supposed to feel. Years ago, when I told him I liked sweets from street vendors, he said food sold outside was filthy. “The Moretti Donna shouldn’t stuff herself with candy like a little girl.” And now he had actually remembered to buy me something sweet. I didn’t take it. “Thank you, Lucien.” Lucien frowned. “Clara, I brought this back for you myself, and you’re still giving me that look?” “Are you still upset about Vivian and me?” Of course I had been upset once. On our wedding night, Vivian sent someone to the estate saying she was about to take on a small crew that had betrayed the Morettis all by herself. Lucien had just taken off his suit jacket. The moment he heard her name, he stood up. I asked, “Do you really have to go now?” He said, “You know what she’s like. She’s never been afraid of anything.” “If no one stops her, she’ll walk into that warehouse with a gun tonight.” He didn’t come back until dawn. There was a faint red mark on his neck. He said Vivian had fought him when he tried to bring her back and had scratched the wrong person in the struggle. I had made scenes. I had cried. Eventually, I stopped asking. Lucien was about to explain again when a guard’s voice came from outside the door. “Don, someone just came from Miss Sterling’s place.” “She slipped her security detail and left word that she’s heading to the docks tonight to settle things with the crew that crossed into our territory and stole our shipment.” Lucien’s expression changed. I closed my eyes again. “Go.” He didn’t move. I added, “If she really charges into the docks, you’ll blame me tomorrow for keeping you here.” Lucien’s voice hardened. “Clara, do you have to be this sarcastic?” I said nothing. A dull heaviness pulled at my lower abdomen. I frowned and endured it. There was no point telling him. He wouldn’t care anyway. In the end, Lucien still left. Before he went, he tossed one last sentence over his shoulder. “Get some rest. Stop using your health to punish me.” The door closed. Then came three soft taps against the window. An old silver ring slid through the narrow gap in the frame. A single letter was engraved on the inside of the band. V. Heat rushed behind my eyes. My heart began to pound. Vale. Beneath the ring was a small note. Only one line was written on it. “Clara, if no one in the Moretti family will protect you, I will.” Three years ago, the man I loved most, Adrian Vale, had supposedly died in a shootout along a smuggling route in the north. No body had ever been found. If this ring was here, then he wasn’t dead. My hands trembling, I hid the ring beneath my pillow.

Vivian came to the Moretti estate early the next morning. The moment she stepped into the main hall, she frowned. “Clara, this place is still suffocating.” She looked around, then laughed. “If I stayed here for three days, I’d probably forget how to hold a gun.” I leaned back on the sofa and said nothing. Lucien had come in with her. He was still wearing the same black suit jacket, which meant he had probably left a family meeting and personally gone to the gate to pick her up. Vivian crossed the room in a few quick steps. “Oh my God. Why do you look so pale?” Then, as if she had only just remembered herself, she touched a hand to her mouth. “Listen to me. I’ve spent too much time out there. I say whatever comes into my head.” “You’ve been the Donna for so many years. All those rules, all those responsibilities… I guess it’s only natural you’d look tired.” “I took medicine,” I said. “That’ll do it.” Lucien’s expression shifted. Vivian blinked. “The birth control pill?” “I only said that if Clara had a baby, Lucien would never come out and spend time with me anymore.” “I didn’t think he’d actually have the doctor send you one.” She lowered her gaze, her voice softening. “Clara, you’re not mad at me, are you?” I shook my head. “There’s nothing to be mad about.” She caught Lucien by the sleeve. “See? Clara barely even talks to me now.” “She used to sneak over walls with me and teach me how to ride. If anyone bullied me, she was always the first one to step in.” She laughed, loud and carefree. “Now she’s been the Moretti Donna for so long, it’s like she’s a completely different person.” Lucien frowned. “Clara isn’t well. Stop bothering her.” The words were stern, but his voice had already softened by the time he looked at Vivian. Vivian tipped her face up toward him. “Sometimes I wish you weren’t the Moretti Don.” The hall went still. Then she laughed again. “Then you could come with me to the West Coast. Down to the Mexican border. Up north into the snow.” “No family meetings. None of this endless family business tying you down.” Lucien smiled too. “Vivian, you’re still as wild as ever.” I lowered my eyes. Once, I had been an excellent rider and a crack shot. I was the one who taught Vivian to ride. The first time she ever took apart a gun, my hands had guided hers. Yet somehow, everyone later praised her for being vibrant and free while calling me dull and boring. I had never liked this walled-in estate either. A sudden cramp twisted low in my abdomen. The teacup slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor. Only then did Lucien look at me. “Clara, what’s wrong?” He reached out to steady me. I moved away. “I’m fine.” His face darkened. “Who told you to actually take the birth control?” I looked up at him. “You had the doctor send it. I could hardly refuse.” Lucien went still. Vivian quickly tugged at his arm. “Don’t yell at her. Clara’s been stuck inside this estate too long. She overthinks everything.” “I’m not like that. If something bothers me, I throw a few punches and get over it.” Lucien stared at me, his voice rough. “Clara, you’re allowed to make a scene.” “You used to smash the glass when I told you to take birth control.” “When I tried to give you sedatives, you said they tasted awful and refused to touch them.” “How was I supposed to know you’d actually swallow it this time?” I had almost forgotten that I, too, had once been that alive. Lucien let out a humorless laugh. “You agreed to marry into the Moretti family.” “Now you’re the Donna, enjoying all the wealth and prestige that come with the family, and somehow you act like I’m the one who wronged you.” “A few days ago, Vivian and I went to the relief center in the South District. She saw those children freezing and took off her leather jacket on the spot.” “She said if she owned all the gold and expensive decorations in this estate, she’d sell them for food and medicine.” “And you? You sit here in the main house feeling sorry for yourself.” For one brief second, guilt flashed across Vivian’s face. After all, I was the one who had funded that relief center. I simply hadn’t appeared there in person. I nodded. “You’re right.” Lucien abruptly stood. “I’m tired of looking at you like this.” He took Vivian by the arm and left. The moment the door shut, agony tore through my lower abdomen. Blood ran down my skirt. Mia burst into tears and ran for the doctor. The family physician arrived quickly. After examining me, all the color left his face. “Mrs. Moretti, the bleeding is severe. The baby… I’m sorry. You’ve miscarried.” I nodded. “I understand.” Mia was crying. “Should I get the Don?” I shook my head. “No.” Ten years. This had been my first child. The last thing still tying me to the Moretti estate. Now it was gone. Good.

Three days after the miscarriage, Lucien came to the main house. Several servants followed behind him, carrying jewelry, dresses, and a saddle. I recognized some of the pieces. The black pearl brooch had been pinned to me by the old Mrs. Moretti herself on the day I married into the family. The deep red cashmere wrap was the one Lucien had draped around my shoulders on my birthday. And the saddle had belonged to my favorite chestnut mare. Before I married into the Moretti family, I used to ride her along the trails near the Hudson Valley for hours at a time. Then Lucien decided Mrs. Moretti ought to behave with more dignity and stop thinking about running off alone. Not long after that, the stable keys stopped being given to me. Lucien looked at me, his tone unusually gentle. “Vivian is moving into the estate in a few days. I’m giving these to her first.” I nodded. “All right.” “She’s used to living on her own terms. A lot of things here don’t suit her.” “All right.” “She likes that horse.” “All right.” He stared at me for a long time, then suddenly smiled. “And Vivian agreed.” “She’s willing to stay with me openly now.” I nodded. “Congratulations.” Lucien seemed to be waiting for me to lose my temper. To question him. To sweep every tray in front of me onto the floor. Instead, I said calmly, “I suppose all of New York will know how important she is to you soon enough.” The smile in his eyes faded. At last, he said only, “Get some rest.” After he left, two servants whispered in the hallway. “Miss Sterling really is something. The Don doesn’t even care about the family’s old rules when it comes to her.” “I heard he’s holding a huge celebration for her at the private estate in the Hudson Valley. After that, who would dare call her some mistress he keeps hidden away?” The other servant lowered her voice. “You know, Mrs. Moretti used to love going out too.” “But after she married him, the Don kept saying she didn’t act like a Moretti wife. He barely let her go anywhere.” She paused. “Now Miss Sterling does the exact same things, and suddenly he thinks it’s charming.” I lay there staring at the ceiling. The celebration would be in the Hudson Valley. Not at the Moretti estate. Which meant I would finally have a chance to leave. I called Mia over. “On the day of the celebration, get me something easy to move in.” Her eyes immediately reddened. “Mrs. Moretti… are you finally going to fight for him?” I nodded. “Yes.” Let them believe that. I didn’t want Lucien to turn back to me. I wanted to disappear from this estate that day. And from Lucien’s world. A maid was checking the measurements for my dress when Lucien walked in. He came over and adjusted my cuff. “This color suits you.” Footsteps sounded outside. Vivian stood in the doorway. Her gaze swept through the room before settling on me. She smiled. “The Moretti estate really is nice. Lucien said I could choose any room I wanted.” She laughed softly. “I don’t like most of the others.” “Clara’s is the only one that actually feels comfortable.” The maid’s expression shifted. Vivian seemed to realize only then how that sounded. She turned to Lucien. “I’m not trying to take Clara’s things.” “If it’s inconvenient, forget it. I can sleep in the stables.” Lucien was silent for a moment before looking at me. “Clara, Vivian won’t be staying in the main house often. Maybe…” I smiled. “Fine.” “She can have the room.” Both of them froze. I looked down and smoothed my cuff. “I’ll move out after the celebration.” I was leaving anyway. The room no longer mattered.

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Eight years after my husband,Don Damien Vestrani, was killed in a shootout, my best friend, Celeste Marlowe, was gone too. I coughed up blood when the news reached me, but I still forced myself to her funeral. In the visitation room, someone leaned in close to my brother, the one handling the funeral arrangements, and murmured under his breath. “When are you going to tell your sister the truth?” “Celeste has loved Damian in silence all these years. She deserves to be buried beside him—as his wife,his Donna.” My feet stopped as if they had been nailed to the floor. I watched my brother, Julian Ashford, run his fingertips gently across Celeste’s memorial portrait, his voice hoarse. “Damien never wanted anyone to know.” “I married Celeste because I gave him my word. That I’d look after her and the boy for him.” “I’ll have Celeste buried beside Damien. It’s what they both wanted.” That double plot. My husband had chosen it himself, on the highest ridge of Forest Hill Cemetery. And all along, the woman he had meant to lie beside was never me. The triple betrayal of blood, friendship, and love shattered me in a single breath. The room went dark, and I fell backward. When I opened my eyes again, I was in a wedding gown, standing at the altar of the church. Celeste stood in her bridesmaid’s dress, her eyes rimmed red, gazing at Damien. “May the two of you have a long life together.” I stayed silent for a few seconds, then tore off my veil and ran out of the church without looking back. “Sloane!” I had barely reached the doors when Julian, closest to me, caught my wrist. After our parents died in that “incident,” he was the only blood I had left in this world. And yet even he had been keeping the truth from me. Julian’s brow furrowed as he pulled me back. “Today of all days is not the time for a tantrum.” His grip was hard enough that my tears came almost at once. Damien caught up to us, his face full of concern. “Sloane, what’s wrong?” “Is there something you’re not happy with? Tell me. I’ll fix it.” He was exactly as I remembered him. Tender, attentive. The kind of man in whom you couldn’t find a single flaw. He had been the same in my last life. Every dollar that moved through the Vestrani ledgers, I knew about. Every meeting he took out of state, every trip to Europe. He told me himself, before he went. Even the secrets only a Consigliere had any right to hear, he laid at my feet without holding a single one back. And yet this near perfect man had been tangled up with my best friend the whole time. For forty years he had conspired with everyone I loved to keep me in the dark. I sniffed hard and forced it all down. “Damien. I’m not marrying you. We’re through.” Damien’s composure cracked in an instant. “Sloane, what has upset you? Just tell me.” “Whatever it is, I can change it. Please. Just tell me.” He stripped himself of every ounce of pride. so completely that even the guests grew uncomfortable, and started murmuring behind their hands. “That is Don Damien, and she still won’t have him?” “You don’t think she has someone else, do you?” Julian’s face darkened, his anger just barely leashed. “Look at what Damien’s spoiling has done to you.” “I honestly don’t know what game you’re playing. Half the great families on the East Coast would give anything to marry a daughter into the Vestranis,and not one of them has managed it.” His sentence broke off, and his eyes drifted, of their own accord, to Celeste, a few paces away. She was staring at me like everyone else was. Startled. But beneath the surprise, buried very deep, was something that looked almost like hope. I curled the corner of my mouth into a mocking half smile, met Damien’s eyes, and asked him softly. “I’ll ask you once. Have you lied to me?” Something flickered in the back of his eyes. A flash of panic. But his answer came steady. “Of course not.” “How could I ever lie to you?” The words had barely left his lips when the sky beyond the church split open into blossoms of fireworks, light spilling down in ribbons, beautiful beyond belief. By the schedule, this was the exact moment we should have finished our vows and kissed in front of every guest. But now, that whole blazing sky was nothing to me but the punchline of some enormous, cruel joke. I looked at Damien, and I laughed. Then I turned, gathered my skirts, and ran out of the church. By the time I got home, one of my Louboutins was gone, lost somewhere behind me. Like a wounded child, I hid myself in the deepest cabinet at the back of the walk in closet. Half an hour later, they came home. Maybe they had forgotten my old habit of hiding in cabinets. Maybe the things they had to say had waited long enough. They swept the upstairs in a hurried search and decided I wasn’t there. The next thing I heard was Damien’s voice, dropped low into a snarl. “I told you. I told you to find some excuse, any excuse, not to show up at that wedding. Why couldn’t you listen?” Celeste choked back a sob. “I’m her best friend, Damien. If I hadn’t been there, do you think she wouldn’t have wondered?” “Don’t you shout at me. Do you think it was easy for me, standing there watching you marry someone else?” Julian’s voice cut in, low and heavy. “Enough. Don’t blame Celeste. She’s already been through enough.” “If we’re blaming anyone, blame Sloane for being spoiled. Leave her alone. She’ll come to her senses in a few days.” He paused, and then he asked. “Damien. Are you certain you want to marry Sloane? There’s still time.” Damien cut him off without hesitation. “I’ve told you. Sloane is the one I love. What happened with Celeste was an accident.” “An accident? Damien, put your hand on your heart and say that again. If it was really an accident, why did you come to me last night?” The words had barely left Celeste’s mouth when she doubled over, clutching her belly, and cried out. “My stomach. Oh God, my stomach.” “Celeste!” “Celeste!” In a flurry of panic, Damien and Julian rushed Celeste to the hospital. Once they were gone, I pushed the cabinet door open. My face was already ice cold with tears. I pulled out my phone and called an old friend. “That asset management post you mentioned. The one in Oslo. Five year contract. I’ll take it.” “Yes. I can be on a plane in three days.” Norway. Far from this land soaked through with family blood. Far from every single person I had once believed I could give my life to.

I found myself grateful, in the end, that Damien and I had only done the church ceremony, and had never made it to City Hall. If we had, breaking away from him would have been a great deal messier than it already was. I spent the whole afternoon packing. While I was sorting through my documents, I found a photograph tucked into the lining of my wallet. It was of the three of us. I stood in the middle, my left arm through Damien’s, my right arm through Celeste’s, my eyes crinkled into two half moons. Julian had taken the picture. At the time, I had thought there wasn’t a happier person in the world than me. Looking at it now, all I could think was how spectacularly stupid I had been. I drew a long breath and forced myself out of the false comfort of the memory. Just then, Damien called. “Baby, something’s come up over here. I have to handle it.” “Have dinner without me. I’ll come home later and make you a midnight snack, okay?” I tore the photograph into pieces, dropped them into the trash, and said softly: “I told you. We’re over.” “I don’t accept that we’re over.” There was an urgency in his voice on the other end, as though he had more to say. Then, in the background, a familiar voice broke in. “Damien, the doctor said…” Celeste never got to finish. Damien cut the line dead. A text came through immediately after. 【Bad signal on my end. We’ll talk when I’m home.】 【But I’ll say it again. I don’t accept a breakup.】 Watching him keep at the lie, right down to this moment. Something inside me quietly went out. At that exact moment, Celeste posted to Instagram. The photo was of two men’s hands. One was peeling an apple for her. The other was massaging her leg. Being surrounded by the man I love and my best brother. Life is a blessing. I tapped like. A second later, the post, which she had clearly forgotten to hide from my account, vanished. From the curtains in the background and the logo on the headboard, I recognized the place. Beacon Hill Private Clinic. The Vestrani family’s own preferred hospital. Some things, I decided, needed to end. It took me a while to find Celeste’s room. But just before I pushed the door open, I heard Julian’s voice. “Damien. This baby. What are you planning to do?” My hand froze on the handle. I suddenly remembered the child who had called me Aunt Sloane in my last life. Damien and I had never had children of our own. So I had loved that “niece” as though she were my own daughter. Never once suspecting she was the child of my husband and my best friend. Through the gap in the door, Damien’s face was blurred. “The baby can’t stay. Sloane will suspect.” Celeste’s expression, which had been so hopeful, twisted into something ugly. “Damien! Are you even human? This is your child!” Julian reached out, trying to steady her. He pressed his lips together and made the same choice he had made in the life before. “We’ll say the baby is mine. Sloane will only be happy. She won’t think twice.” “And it’ll make it easier for you to be around the child later.” The room fell into silence. At length, Damien nodded. The weight in his face finally eased, and he softened his voice into something coaxing. “I’ll get a vasectomy in a while. Don’t worry. This will be the only child I ever have. Consider it my apology to you.” “We’ll tell everyone that Sloane is the one who can’t conceive. I know a private doctor in Zurich. He can prescribe something that won’t show up on any test she runs on herself. Every result will point back to her.” I gripped the handle so hard I couldn’t move. So this was how it was. In my last life I had carried that guilt like an idiot for forty years. I had flown to every top fertility clinic in North America. Even done IVF. Eight times. Every single cycle had failed. It had never crossed my mind that the whole thing was a trap, laid for me, by hand, by the three people I loved most in the world. Just then, a nurse’s voice came from behind me. “Ma’am? Are you looking for someone?” In the same instant, all three sets of eyes inside the room swung toward the door.

Meeting their stunned faces, I pushed the door open and walked in. “Sloane, listen. Let me explain.” I gave a short, brittle laugh, picked up the chart from the foot of the bed, and pointed at the words threatened miscarriage. I asked him quietly. “Explain what, exactly? Explain how, precisely, you managed to get her pregnant?” “Or explain how you ended up in bed with my best friend in the first place?” “Or perhaps explain how, going forward, my own brother is going to raise your and Celeste’s daughter right in front of my eyes?” My voice was flatter than I had expected of myself. But the slight tremor at the end gave away the thing that was almost swallowing what was left of my reason. Damien opened his mouth. Nothing came out. My gaze moved from the panic on his face to Julian’s forced composure, and finally to Celeste — to the relief of someone who no longer had to hide. And across Celeste, across the relief of someone who no longer had to hide. I pulled my mouth into a thin curve and uncurled my hand, where my nails had cut into the skin of my palm. I was turning to leave when Damien caught me from behind. “Sloane, it isn’t what it looks like. It was an accident.” “Please. Let’s not do this.” At that exact moment, a button on his shirt popped loose. A patch of skin at his collarbone was suddenly visible. I caught it out of the corner of my eye and nearly gagged. There was a bright red mark there. The kind that made it very clear how far things had gone the night before. I shoved him off me. Damien staggered back, off balance, and his elbow caught the electric kettle on the cabinet. The back of his hand went red at once from the scalding water. “What are you doing?” Celeste lifted his hand up to inspect it, her face full of pity. “You wanted to know when it started, didn’t you? Fine. I’ll tell you!” “Shut your mouth!” She ignored Damien’s roar, keeping her eyes on me. Hatred rose slowly to the surface of them. “The night of your twentieth birthday. Damien said there was an emergency with the family. I said I had a fever. Did it never once occur to you how convenient that was?” “Celeste!” Celeste’s mouth curled into a cutting little smile. “After that night, he couldn’t stay away from me.” “You know why? Because I was his first.” “Because he told me, in his own words, that what he had with me was two souls answering each other, and what he had with you was a political marriage between the Five Families. One more piece of business he owed the old man.” “Sloane, from where I’m standing, you’re the one who came in second.” From her first sentence I had been biting down on the tip of my tongue. By the time she was done, the inside of my mouth was full of blood. I raised my hand and slapped her across the face. But in the same instant, Julian’s arm shot out and shoved me hard. “Sloane, have you lost your mind?” “Do you not understand that she’s pregnant?” I lost my footing and went backward. My forehead struck the corner of the table before I could brace. The skin split, and blood ran freely down my face. Slowly, everything went dark. When I came to, before I could even open my eyes, I heard Celeste crying. “Damien. The doctor said this may be the last time I ever conceive.” “If I lose this baby, I’ll never be a mother. Not in this lifetime.” Damien was silent for a few seconds. Then he gave his answer. “Then have the baby.” “When she wakes up, I’ll talk her into adopting the child. It’s the best outcome for everyone.” Celeste stopped crying. “And if she says no?” Damien’s voice slowly turned to ice. “You think she’s in a position to say no?” “The Ashford Don and Donna are long gone. Julian may be her brother, but he stands with me.” “Apart from the three of us, who does she have in this world?” I gripped the sheet, ready on pure instinct to sit up. But then Celeste dropped her voice lower. “And what if she finds out about that?” “That’s two lives, Damien. Two.”

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The graduation party in the underground training hall fell apart during a game of Put a Finger Down. Serena grinned and said, “Put a finger down if you’ve already had sex.” I watched Asher, the boy who was supposed to become mine, lower one finger. Which meant he had slept with someone. Just not with me. I had loved him for ten whole years. After a few rounds and too much cheap alcohol, only two players were still in the game: Serena and me. Everyone else had run out of fingers. Serena smiled like a queen at the Moon Crown ceremony and said sweetly, “I’m seeing someone.” The underground training hall went silent. Then the room erupted. I looked toward Asher in the corner. He had told me countless times, “Elena, after the Moon Crown Ball, I’ll swear myself to you.” But right then, he was sprawled across a worn black leather couch, and he did not even look at me. Someone whistled. “Prove it, then.” Serena rose with a smile and walked straight to Asher. She cupped his face, leaned down, and kissed him in front of every young wolf heir in the room. He did not push her away. He did not even look at me. I was technically still in the game, but I folded my last finger into my palm anyway. The game was over. So were my ten years. Whistles, screams, and applause crashed together. The training hall felt as if it had caught fire. Someone shouted, “Oh my god! I knew it!” Someone else asked, “When did this happen?” Serena straightened, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. “Graduation night. We officially got together.” Everyone’s eyes fell on the newly announced couple. One was Mooncrest Academy’s most dazzling Alpha heir. The other was the school’s most popular highborn she-wolf. Together, they looked inevitable, as if the Moon Goddess herself had arranged them. No one noticed me in the corner. No one noticed that I suddenly could not breathe. I watched Asher lift a hand and casually wipe the corner of his mouth. The crowd rushed in around them, and someone called, “Come on, tell us. Who made the first move? Details.” Serena gave Asher a shy glance and said, “It was nothing, really. On graduation night, I sent him a message…” She told them everything. She said she had asked him to meet her by Moon Lake. She had taken his hand under the full moon and asked, “Do you want to try being together for real?” With every detail, the laughter grew louder. With every detail, someone glanced my way. “Wait, wasn’t there something between Asher and Elena? Didn’t they grow up in the same pack?” “Says who? When has Asher ever really looked at her?” “Elena? That little shadow? Nobody even sees her as a she-wolf.” “Exactly. Who would like her? Asher is the future Alpha. His standards have always been high.” “Do you remember her silverleaf allergy? That emergency in the healing room. Asher made her pasta and somehow forgot she was allergic to silverleaf. Sent her straight to the healing tower.” “Serena wanted the full scholarship to Lunar Academy in Eastshore. Elena was her only real competition. Do we need to spell out the rest?” “That’s brutal. Elena was just a backup from beginning to end.” Serena put on an innocent, wounded expression, but her eyes shone with a winner’s smug delight. “Elena, I’m sorry. I might have mentioned the academy scholarship to Asher once. He wanted to help me so badly back then, so he used silverleaf to trigger your allergy. Don’t blame him. If you have to blame someone, blame me.” So everyone knew Asher had done it on purpose. Everyone except me. Or maybe I had known all along. I had just refused to admit it. In our first year at Mooncrest Academy, Asher had slowly pulled away from me. Whenever we passed each other, he would lower his head and walk by as if he did not know me. Once, I chased after him and asked what was wrong. He said, “Don’t let people get the wrong idea.” I told myself he was about to become an Alpha. One day, an entire pack would rest on his shoulders. He needed dignity. He could not let people tease him. It would weaken his authority. I explained everything away for him. I just never expected that, afterward, I would always see him laughing and talking with Serena.

I could never stop myself from wanting to join them, but whenever Asher saw me smile, his own expression would shut down. He would ask coldly, “Need something?” Only that day was different. He handed me the plate of pasta, his voice gentle like it used to be. He said, “Eat.” So, like an idiot, I ate it without a second thought. And I missed the most important scholarship interview of my life. My eyes burned. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, then looked at Asher and forced myself to ask, “Is it true?” He sat beside Serena, his face blank. “Does it matter? It’s not like it can be changed now.” His tone was as casual as if we were talking about the weather for tomorrow’s forest patrol. My words sank into him like stones into still water, leaving no ripple. He did not care. He did not care about the eighteen years we had grown up together on the same pack territory. He did not care about the future we had once believed we would have. My throat closed. Bitterness rose in my chest again and again. I bit the inside of my cheek and let the taste of blood hold back the breakdown pressing at my ribs. Then I stood up and ran out. Even after I had run far away, their laughter still followed me. Someone shouted, “Elena! Don’t go! Have a drink for your good buddy!” Someone else sneered, “Is she actually crying? Let her go back to her dorm and cry, then. Asher never formed a mate bond with her. What’s she so hurt about?” I stood for a long time on the black stone road outside the academy while the northern night wind swept through the pines and dried the tears on my face. My phone lit up. It was a message from Asher. Where are you? Come back. Don’t make this ugly. I stared at those words, and suddenly I was seven again. During a pup-training game, I missed the training ball, and all the other children laughed. Asher grabbed a wooden stick and charged over, furious. “She missed the ball. What does that have to do with any of you?” Back then, he was my shield against the whole world. And now, he was telling me not to make things ugly. Another message came in. I just lost a bet. It was truth or dare, that’s all. Come back. I’ll explain. Truth or dare. My hand shook so badly I almost could not hold my phone. When I was ten, I had a fever that would not break, and I could barely hold my wolf form. Asher climbed over the ironwood fence in my backyard to bring me moon-dew medicine, then got chased three blocks by the neighbor’s guard dog. When I was twelve, I lost the territory-wide rune-spelling competition. He threw his own first-place blue ribbon into the trash and said, “This stupid thing doesn’t matter. Next time I’ll help you win it back.” When I was fifteen, at the Moon Crown Ball, someone made a vulgar joke about my late first shift. Asher swung a fist. The skin above his brow split open, and the healer gave him three stitches. He still smiled at me and said, “Doesn’t hurt at all.” Had he changed? Or had he always been like this, and I had just refused to see it? Had I been lying to myself from the very beginning? I clenched my teeth and turned back. I pushed open the door to the underground training hall, still clinging to one ridiculous shred of hope. The next second, a bucket of ice water poured down from above the doorframe. The freezing water soaked my hair, blurred my vision, and drenched my clothes. I stood there, shaking all over. Wild laughter burst through the underground training hall. “Holy shit! She really came back!” “Serena, you called it perfectly. How did you know she’d definitely come back?” “Asher, a bet is a bet! The necklace. Now!” Serena leaned against Asher, laughing so hard she almost folded over. “I told you she’d come back.” She held out her hand. Her silver-white nails flashed coldly under the lights. “Your number one backup mate, obviously. On call whenever you need her.”

Asher’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. Then he lifted a hand and took the chain from his neck. It was a vintage compass pendant, only half of one. The other half was with me. When we were seven, we had won it at a stall at the Northern Moon Fair. One half for each of us. Neither of us had taken it off since, not even during our first wolf-shifting training. I wore my half beside the moonstone pendant my mother had left me. He called it our lucky charm. He also said that when we finally formed our mate bond, we would put the two halves together. But now, he handed his half to Serena. Serena lifted the pendant under the light, her smile bright and vicious. “So cute. Now it’s mine.” She tilted her head slightly toward Asher and added, “So are you.” I wiped the water from my eyes and stared at Asher. He looked at me. The smile on his face vanished instantly. “What? Do I need your permission to give away my own things?” No explanation. No apology. Only a bucket of ice water and a room full of malice. He was no longer the boy who would stand against the whole world for me. Someone shouted from the door, “Let’s go! I booked rooms in Moon Lake Town. Graduation party continues!” The crowd surged toward the door. When Serena passed me, she deliberately stuck out a foot and tripped me. I pitched forward. My knee slammed into the wooden stairs, and pain flashed white behind my eyes. She looked back with a sweet, innocent smile. “Oops. Didn’t see you.” Then she linked her arm through Asher’s and walked out in white canvas shoes. Asher let her pull him along, passing right beside me. He lowered his head and glanced at me. The look was so brief I could not read it. Then he looked away and followed her into the summer night. I knelt on the cold floor. The blood on my knee mixed with the ice water dripping from my hair, falling drop by drop onto the wooden boards. Drip. Drip. Like all the one-sided love I had poured into him over the years. Pathetic and pointless. I could not go home. If Dad saw me like this, his heart would break. I walked the black stone road outside the academy for a long time. In the end, I found a cheap motel in Moon Lake Town and got a room. I stood under the hot water for a very long time, until my body finally felt like mine again. When I came out, my phone was lit up with messages from Asher. Your dad called and asked when you’re coming home. I said you were with me. Go home soon. Where are you? Are you safe? Then came a video call. I hesitated, then answered. Asher’s face appeared on the screen, still handsome. Behind him was a dim motel hallway. He frowned. “You’re at a motel?” “Yeah.” “Which one?” “None of your business.” After a moment of silence, his tone hardened. “Stay where you are. I don’t want to deal with your dad.” “Asher.” I looked straight into his eyes through the screen. “That compass pendant. Are you really giving it to her?” He opened his mouth, but no words came out. “You said it was ours. You said that on the day we formed our mate bond, we would put them together.” He stayed silent. I asked, “You gave it to Serena. Then what am I?” He swallowed. “It’s just a cheap piece of metal.” I let out a small laugh. “Right. Worthless. Just like me.” “Elena…” I hung up. Half an hour later, someone knocked on the door. It was a delivery driver. He brought a tube of ointment for scrapes and a box of hot mac and cheese. I sat on the motel bed while my phone kept vibrating. The Mooncrest Academy graduation group chat was full of videos. Serena and Asher were singing at the party. She leaned on his shoulder with a cup in her hand while a sickly sweet love song played in the background. Comments popped up one after another. “Oh my god, the way Asher looks at her. I’m dead.” “Kiss! Hurry up and kiss!”

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” In the video, Asher was smiling. The way he looked at Serena was open, undisguised affection. He had never looked at me that way. Not once in all three years at Mooncrest Academy. The video froze on Serena leaning closer to him, her lips slightly parted. Then Serena updated the school social feed. She posted a photo of her full-scholarship award letter from Lunar Academy in Eastshore, followed by a photo of her and Asher at the party. The caption read: The perfect ending to my years at wolf academy. A full scholarship to Lunar Academy, and someone who loves me. The comments from mutual friends stung my eyes. “So jealous. Future Alpha boyfriend and genius she-wolf?” “This must be what it looks like to be the Moon Goddess’s favorite girl!” Serena replied with a heart. Under that, someone else wrote, “Certain people must be dying of rage right now.” “That little shadow? Yeah. We’re talking about you, Elena.” I locked my phone and fell back onto the cheap mattress. There were water stains on the ceiling, and the fluorescent light hurt my eyes. I thought of all the years I had worked myself to the bone for that Lunar Academy scholarship in Eastshore. Giving up the Moon Crown dance team tryouts. Studying Alpha succession courses until three in the morning. No weekends. More than a dozen folders packed with rune notes. I had been only one step away from that dream. Only one step away from going to the same city as him. His city. He did not know that when I filled out my college applications, every school I chose was in Eastshore. Because he was going there. Because he said he loved the East Coast and Eastshore’s snow. So I sent every application there. And now? I sat up, picked up my phone, and logged into the college admissions portal. Then I rejected Lunar Academy’s Eastshore offer and accepted another school. Westcliff Academy. A werewolf college on the California coast. He hated summer. He had always said he could not stand the West Coast sun. But in that moment, Westcliff’s palm trees, ocean breeze, and sunlight sounded perfect. The West Coast. The farther from him, the better. I tapped confirm, and a green enrollment confirmation page popped up. I turned off my phone and picked up the box of mac and cheese. It had already gone cold. I dumped it into the trash. Cheddar. He knew perfectly well that I hated cheddar, that even the smell made me nauseous. But he did not remember. Just like he knew perfectly well I had always been waiting for him, yet he had never truly walked toward me. The next day, I went back to Mooncrest Academy to clear out my locker and pick up my final paperwork. The moment I stepped into the hallway, every eye landed on me. Contempt, mockery, malice. It nearly drowned me. “Going to a motel on graduation night? That’s disgusting.” “Who?” “Who else? That little shadow. Someone got video.” I stopped. Serena stood by a row of lockers, surrounded by girls from the Moon Crown dance team. She held up her phone and was playing a video. In it, I was in last night’s motel hallway, soaked from head to toe, holding my motel key card. Serena covered her mouth and laughed, every word poisoned. “Does this count as leaving in disgrace?” Whispers spread around us. Their stares cut like knives. I walked over and stood in front of her. “Delete it.” “Why should I?” She tilted her head, all innocence. “You went to that sketchy motel alone. That’s not my fault.” “You’re spreading lies.” “Am I?” She turned to Asher. “Asher, tell us. Wasn’t she fooling around with someone last night?” Asher stood nearby with a graduation yearbook in his hand. He looked at the video on her phone, then at me. “Asher.” My voice shook. “Tell her. Tell her why I was there last night.” He knew. He knew everything. Even if he no longer cared about me, even if eighteen years of growing up in the same pack meant nothing to him, he could at least tell the truth. Right? He looked into my eyes. His tone was casual, almost cruel. “People who hate you will always hate you.” I froze. “What?” He said, “If you didn’t do anything wrong, what are you afraid of?”

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For three years of marriage, I thought my husband was simply too busy with work. Until late one night, I stumbled upon his Mental Deterioration Plan. High-frequency noise at dawn. Slow-acting sedatives in the aromatherapy diffuser. Step by step, he was forcing me into becoming a “madwoman.” He stole my father’s design drawings and forced me to kneel in the ruins, all to clear the real murderer’s name. What he didn’t know was that every pill I swallowed, I kept under my tongue. Every time I went mad, I was acting. When he thought I had jumped into the sea and died, I was standing on a stage in Paris wearing hearing aids, accepting an award. Everything they took from me, I would take back tenfold. Sienna Shaw POV In the middle of the night, I got up to use the bathroom. When I passed the study, I saw Lucas Lawson’s tablet glowing on the desk. He hadn’t locked the screen. The system was still on the page he had just been reading. It was a hidden folder. I had only meant to turn it off for him, but the instant my fingertip touched the screen, it froze on one line of text. [Sienna Shaw Mental Deterioration Plan.] Below it were the specific steps: [2:00 a.m. to 4:00 a.m.: Turn on the high-frequency noise device in the attic to induce auditory hallucinations.] [Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays: Add slow-acting sedative to the bedroom aromatherapy diffuser to confuse her memory.] The signature at the very bottom was: Lucas Lawson. The room’s frigid air seeped into my skin, my fingertips growing numb by the second. I opened the deepest folder. Inside were saved chat records between Lucas Lawson and Serena Stone. Serena Stone: [That church is almost finished, but the ownership rights are still in Sienna Shaw’s hands. If she ever comes to her senses and sues me for plagiarism…] Lucas Lawson replied: [Don’t worry. I’ve already drafted tomorrow’s transfer agreement. As soon as the awards ceremony ends, I’ll have her sign it. From now on, the ownership rights to that church will belong only to you.] Lucas Lawson wrote again: [Sienna Shaw takes medication every day. Her mind isn’t clear. Getting her to sign something will be easy.] I stared at the screen, my knuckles turning white from gripping too hard. Those were the church design drawings my father, Charles Shaw, had spent his entire life creating. For that building, my father drew tens of thousands of manuscript drafts. The red seal in the lower right corner was one I had gone with him to have carved. But three months ago, on the eve of that church’s completion, my father was accused of plagiarism. My father, who had guarded his good name all his life, jumped from the top floor of the half-built church in humiliation and smashed into the ground in a bloody, unrecognizable mess. Lucas Lawson stubbornly believed my father had pushed his sister, Jenny Lawson, into the sea and caused her to drown. Lucas Lawson married me, doted on me, and in the end, poisoned me and set a trap for me. All of it was nothing more than revenge for his sister, to drive the Shaw family step by step toward death. But he had no idea that back then, Jenny Lawson had clearly been pushed into the sea by Serena Stone herself, all so Serena could cover up the secret of stealing the drawings! They didn’t just want to steal my father’s reputation and use his drawings to win the Gold Award. Tomorrow, they also wanted to take the ownership rights to that church completely. My stomach suddenly cramped. I braced myself against the desk, bent over, and began retching violently. The pain made me curl into a ball, my fingers digging into the hard gaps in the floorboards. Because I used too much force, half of one fingernail snapped off, and blood seeped out. But I couldn’t feel the pain in my finger. All I could see was the horrifying image of my father after he fell onto the concrete ground. And Lucas Lawson’s hypocritical smile every day as he held me and coaxed me into taking calming medication. He forced my father to his death! He kept me like a madwoman in a cage! The person poisoning me every single day was actually the husband I had loved for three years! From outside came the sound of the front door unlocking. Lucas Lawson was back. I stared at the doorway, my fingertips trembling slightly. At the fastest speed I could manage, I inserted a card into the tablet and copied all the data. Then I put the tablet back exactly where it had been, making sure there was no trace that anything had been moved. After that, I took two earplugs out of my pocket. They were ones I had used before to block noise. Once worn, they could shut out most sound. I pushed the earplugs deep into my ears. The world fell silent, leaving only the sound of my own heavy breathing. The door opened. Lucas Lawson stepped through the door in a tailored black suit, soft warmth masking every trace of malice on his face. But when he saw me collapsed on the floor, a chill flashed through his eyes. “Sienna? Why are you sitting on the floor with the lights off?” Lucas Lawson quickly walked over, crouched down, and took my ice-cold hand. The instant I touched his skin, goose bumps rose all over my body. I wanted nothing more than to claw that hypocritical face to shreds and demand to know why he had killed my father! But I gritted my teeth and swallowed down my hatred. I knew very well that if I confronted him now, I not only wouldn’t get the drawings back, I might not even make it out of this door. I had to play the part of a completely ruined madwoman. “Lucas…” I obediently let him hold me, my body shaking violently, tears splashing onto the back of Lucas Lawson’s hand. “That sound came back. There are bugs crawling inside my head, gnawing at my brain. Lucas, am I really going insane?” Crying, I slammed my head into Lucas Lawson’s chest, my fingers clutching his white shirt. The blood in the gaps beneath my nails smeared a bloody mark across his clean clothes. Lucas Lawson gently patted my back, his touch soft, as if he were stroking a toy. “It’s all right, Sienna. It’s just auditory hallucinations. You’ve been under too much stress lately.” Lucas Lawson’s voice was low and full of heartache. But I knew perfectly well that at this very moment, the noise device in the attic was running at full power. Lucas Lawson was coldly watching me go mad. “Come on. Take your medicine. Sleep for a while and you’ll be fine.” Lucas Lawson took out a small white pill bottle, poured out a blue capsule, then brought over warm water and held it to my lips. I stared at that blue capsule. This was the slow-acting poison that made my memory chaotic. Without hesitation, I swallowed the pill with the warm water. When the pill slid past my throat, I pressed it with the tip of my tongue and hid it in the gap between my gum and cheek. “Good girl.” Lucas Lawson gently stroked my hair, a flash of relaxed mockery passing through his eyes. “Go upstairs and sleep. Tomorrow I’ll take you to the design competition awards ceremony. Serena won the Gold Award, and she needs you, her good friend, to go support her.” To support the murderer who killed my father. He was stabbing me straight through the heart. I lowered my head, my long hair hiding the hatred in my eyes. “Okay.” My voice was hoarse, my answer docile.

Sienna Shaw POV Seeing that I hadn’t grown suspicious, Lucas Lawson comforted me with a few more words before leaving. I immediately rushed into the bathroom. The moment the door locked, I collapsed in front of the toilet. I dug my fingers into my throat, my nails scraping against the tender mucous membrane. I retched violently, tears pouring out with it. The blue capsule hidden behind my gums, mixed with saliva and stomach acid, was finally vomited into the toilet. One layer of the blue coating had dissolved, giving off a bitter, cloying medicinal smell. I stared at the pill, my whole body trembling. If I swallowed it tonight, tomorrow I would become an idiot who couldn’t even speak clearly. Lucas Lawson wanted me to be a madwoman. I didn’t have time to be sad or heartbroken. I had to transfer away all the ownership rights to the church immediately. I pressed the flush and watched the poison get swept away by the water. Gritting my teeth, I lifted my head and looked into the mirror. The person in the mirror had a deathly pale face, bloodshot eyes, and blood at the corner of her mouth from where she had bitten through her skin. I closed my eyes and forced out a fake smile. Only when the expression of the person in the mirror completely matched the characteristics of a lunatic did I push the door open and walk out. In the bedroom, Lucas Lawson was standing by the bed. He held a white porcelain jar in his hand and was using a match to light the calming incense. When he saw me come out, he blew out the match and beckoned, his voice gentle. “Sienna, this is calming incense I had specially blended for you. Once you smell it, your head won’t hurt anymore.” I walked over and smelled the rich scent of lavender. Mixed into the fragrance was an extremely faint fishy odor, like rotting dead fish. This was the slow-acting sedative Lucas Lawson had given me, specially meant to destroy my nerves. “It smells so nice, Lucas.” I obediently nestled into his arms, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. Lucas Lawson gently stroked my back, as if petting a dying kitten. But I could feel his body was tense, his gaze fixed on my face the entire time. I took advantage of it and rested my head against his shoulder, my eyes unfocused as I slowly closed them. “Lucas… I’m so sleepy. I’ll sleep for a little while first…” I mumbled vaguely, my body going limp as I let myself fall. “If you’re sleepy, then sleep. I’m right here.” Lucas Lawson carried me onto the bed and tucked me in. He sat by the bed for a while. Only after confirming I was sound asleep did he get up, turn off the lights, and quietly leave. The moment the bedroom door closed, I opened my eyes. My gaze was clear, without the slightest trace of sleepiness. Lucas Lawson had no idea that I had switched out this jar of poisoned incense for ordinary lavender essential oil long ago. I got out of bed and took a backup phone from the deepest part of the wardrobe. I dialed a number. The call connected, and an elderly man’s voice came through. “Ms. Shaw?” “Attorney Carter, it’s me.” I lowered my voice, my tone ice-cold. “My father’s reputation has already been destroyed. I can’t lose the last thing he left behind, too.” Attorney Carter had been my father’s most trusted legal adviser when he was alive. “Ms. Shaw, have you made up your mind? If you secretly transfer the design patents now, once Lucas Lawson finds out, he absolutely won’t let you go.” Attorney Carter’s tone was worried. I gripped the phone tightly, my knuckles turning white. The pain from my broken nail made me tremble. “I have no choice.” Gritting my teeth, I forced out the words. “Tomorrow, Lucas Lawson is going to force me to sign the church’s ownership rights over to Serena Stone. Before he makes his move, I have to transfer all the design patents I hold into the overseas private trust my father left behind.” “All right. I’ll handle it right away. The transfer will be completed within two hours. But Ms. Shaw, what will you do tomorrow?” I didn’t answer. I quietly hung up. I turned my head and looked at the white dress Lucas Lawson had chosen for me in the wardrobe. Under the bleak moonlight outside the window, that dress glowed a ghastly white, looking exactly like burial clothes. I closed my eyes and lay quietly in the darkness.

Sienna Shaw POV Early the next morning, I had just woken up. Lucas Lawson pushed the door open and came in. He bent down to kiss my forehead, his voice mild. “Sienna, you’re awake? It’s time to get changed.” I obediently sat up. Lucas Lawson walked to the wardrobe, opened the door, and took out that white formal dress. In front of the fitting room mirror, I was arching my back, my fingertips just gripping the zipper at the back of the dress. A pair of warm hands covered mine from behind and naturally took the metal tab from my hand. Lucas Lawson looked at me through the mirror, the corners of his lips carrying the faintest smile. His movements were very gentle. His fingertips slowly brushed over my spine as he pulled the zipper up little by little. Because the dress was slightly tight, the metal teeth inevitably scraped across my skin. My body instinctively tensed, trembling slightly. Lucas Lawson’s hands followed the motion and pressed down on my shoulders, brushing aside my loose long hair. He bent down and pressed his face to the side of my neck. His warm breath fell against my cold skin, his voice as gentle as always: “Sienna, today is a big day. Answer the reporters exactly how we rehearsed last night, alright?” That tone was like coaxing a disobedient child, so gentle it made a person shiver. I stared woodenly at him in the mirror and answered, “Okay.” Half an hour later, I was brought into the International Design Awards ceremony. Both sides of the red carpet were packed with reporters, and the flashes were so glaring I could barely open my eyes. Serena Stone wore a gold gown and held the church’s gold trophy that should have belonged to the Shaw family. In front of countless cameras, she smiled brilliantly. Seeing Lucas Lawson bring me over, Serena Stone lifted her skirt and came forward, taking my hand. She pressed close to my ear, her voice low and vicious. “If your brain’s broken, you should be lying at home. But thanks to you, you still had to drag your crippled body here today to hand the award to me.” I heard every word clearly. I lowered my eyes, the expression on my face still wooden, as a salty, bloody taste quietly spread across the tip of my tongue. Lucas Lawson wrapped an arm around my waist, protectively supporting me with considerate movements. To outsiders, he looked like a good husband who adored his wife to an extreme degree. With that nearly tender posture, he brought me in front of a row of black microphones. The cameras all turned toward us in unison. Lucas Lawson lowered his head slightly and leaned close to my ear, his voice gentle. “Open your mouth and tell the reporters that the church was a doodle you made when you were insane, and that Serena completed all of it independently. Apologize to her. Sienna is the most obedient.” I looked at the reporters stretching their necks below the stage, then swept my gaze over Serena Stone’s smug expression beside me. I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, they were filled with terror. “Ah—!” I screamed at the top of my lungs and suddenly overturned the iron microphone stand in front of me. The iron stand crashed onto the marble floor, and a piercing shriek exploded from the speakers. “There’s worms crawling inside my head—they’re eating my brain alive!” I flailed both hands wildly and slapped the completely unprepared Serena Stone hard across the face! Smack! The slap was extremely heavy. Serena Stone staggered back several steps and fell to the ground. The gold trophy in her hands flew out and split in half. “Sienna Shaw! What are you doing?!” Lucas Lawson’s expression changed, and he reached out to stop me. I dodged him and screamed as I charged toward the giant poster on the stage, using my nails to scratch Serena Stone’s face on the poster to pieces. “Red bugs! They crawled out of the drawings! They’re gnawing at my dad’s brain!” I howled, my hands clawing at my own face and neck. In an instant, several bloody marks appeared on my skin. Blood flowed down along my collarbone, staining the snow-white dress at my chest red. The entire venue descended into chaos. Screams and shutter clicks rang out all at once. “Don’t bite me! Lucas, save me!” I slammed headfirst into Lucas Lawson’s arms. My body began to convulse, and I even foamed at the mouth. Lucas Lawson held me tightly and patted my back, his face anxious and heartbroken. But from an angle no one could see, a flash of relief crossed his eyes. He truly thought I had gone mad. “I’m sorry. My wife’s old condition has relapsed. She has disturbed everyone.” Lucas Lawson’s face turned cold as he picked me up, still convulsing, and strode out of the venue. Flashbulbs went off wildly behind us. I lay limp over Lucas Lawson’s shoulder. Warm blood flowed down my neck, soaking the white shirt over his shoulder. With my eyes open, I looked past his shoulder and stared coldly at the half-shattered gold trophy lying on the red carpet.

Sienna Shaw POV Lucas Lawson carried me back to the villa that very night. A private doctor treated the scratches on my neck and face. After the bedroom door closed, I opened my eyes and lay quietly in the dark all night. The next afternoon, only when I heard Lucas Lawson’s footsteps downstairs did I slowly sit up in bed. I reached up and messed up my hair, then pulled open the collar of my pajamas, exposing the freshly bandaged gauze on my shoulder. My whole body looked wretched and haggard. Only after doing all this did I walk barefoot down the stairs step by step, as if sleepwalking. In the hall, Lucas Lawson was sitting on the sofa. As soon as I reached the turn of the staircase, I heard Serena Stone’s somewhat aggrieved voice. “Lucas, I don’t blame Sienna. She only hit me because she’s sick.” Serena Stone sat on the sofa, holding an ice pack to her face, her voice very soft. “I’m just afraid that if she keeps going on like this, she’ll delay the progress of the West End Theater…” Lucas Lawson was pouring her warm water. Hearing this, his tone carried a trace of tenderness. “You’re just too easy to talk to.” As they spoke, I messed up my hair and walked barefoot down the stairs. Seeing me come downstairs, Serena Stone instinctively leaned back behind Lucas Lawson. Then she picked up the hot water and walked over. “Sienna, you’re awake? Have some water.” Just as I was about to reach out, Serena Stone’s wrist suddenly jerked, and the entire cup of water splashed directly onto the newly scabbed wounds on both my knees. “Ah!” Serena Stone backed up two steps in panic. “I’m sorry! I lost my balance… I didn’t mean to.” As she retreated in panic, the thin heel of her high heel just happened to step on the fingers of my right hand, which was braced against the floor. It landed dead on target, right on the gap of my broken fingernail. A bone-drilling pain shot through my fingertip. I clenched my teeth, my body trembling. Lucas Lawson quickly walked over. First, he helped the still-shaken Serena Stone back to the sofa. Then he bent down and pulled away my bleeding hand. He did not have anyone take me to get bandaged. Instead, he pressed both hands down on my shoulders and dragged me up from the floor. His movements were still gentle, but the force in his palms was like raw iron, pinning me in place so tightly that I had no room to resist. “Sienna, yesterday at the ceremony, you were the one who hurt someone first. That wasn’t good.” Lucas Lawson smiled, using the pad of his finger to wipe away the tears of pain at the corners of my eyes. His voice was so gentle it made me shiver. “When you do something wrong, you have to apologize. Apologize to Serena.” I froze in place, disbelief all over my face. “You want me to apologize to another woman?” “It’s just an apology. Then this matter will be settled.” I stubbornly refused. “No!” Lucas Lawson’s face gradually darkened. He stood up and forced my body to lower inch by inch toward Serena Stone on the sofa. His broad palm clamped down on me, forcing me to my knees on the cold floor. The newly scabbed wounds on my knees split open again, and the pain made my whole body flinch. In that nearly suffocating humiliation, I dug my nails into the bleeding wound in my palm, forced myself to lower my head, and gritted out, “I’m sorry…” Serena Stone sat on the sofa with a face mask on. At last, a look of triumphant satisfaction appeared in her eyes. Only then did Lucas Lawson let go. He wiped the blood from his hand with a tissue, picked up the yellow safety helmet from the floor, and handed it to me. His voice was as gentle as ever. “Since you’ve apologized, go do something for me. Pull up the data from the West End Theater.” Blankly, I reached out and took the yellow safety helmet. As long as Serena needed it, Lucas would still squeeze the very last bit of value out of me without hesitation. Because everyone knew that only my ears could detect the most accurate sounds. Twenty minutes later, at the West End Theater construction site. Inside the empty, unfinished building, cold wind poured down my collar with a howl. I had just stepped into the acoustic testing room on the basement level when the iron door behind me slammed shut. Then came the heavy crash of the lock. I turned around. Through the double-layer soundproof glass, I saw Serena standing outside. Serena gripped the control cable in her hand. Through the glass, her smile was strange and chilling. “Sienna Shaw, it’s time you paid me back for that slap.” In the center of the testing room stood a high-frequency acoustic device used for testing. Serena sneered and suddenly twisted the knob on the control panel all the way into the red danger zone. “Screee—!” A piercing shriek exploded through the sealed space in an instant. The shriek cut through the air like a white-hot steel spike, burrowing straight into my skull through my ears. The pain made me bend over. I clamped my hands over my ears, cold sweat soaking through my back in seconds. But that shriek seeped into every crack, again and again, as if it were about to shatter my eardrums. Warm liquid flowed between my fingers. Blood fell onto the cold cement floor. In the dead silence that swallowed me completely, my vision went black, and I passed out. When I opened my eyes again, the sharp smell of disinfectant filled my nose. I closed my eyes and lay expressionless on the bed. The hospital room door was pushed open, then locked from the inside. A man in a gray trench coat walked to the bedside. He had a pair of eyes so deep and dark they seemed bottomless. He was Lucas Lawson’s mortal enemy, Sebastian Lawson. He leaned down slightly and looked at me. “Stop acting. I know you’re not completely deaf, and you’re definitely not crazy.” I did not open my eyes. I did not move. Sebastian gave a cold laugh. “Don’t be scared. That wonderful husband of yours killed your father for his new lover. You want to survive, and I want power. We have the same enemy.” He leaned close to my ear and lowered his voice. “I can heal your ears, send you safely overseas, and even arrange a fake death for you.” “As for the price, give me the evidence you have that Lucas stole the design drawings.” I opened my eyes and looked at him. I had already lost everything. I could barely even hear anymore. There truly was nothing left to be afraid of. “Okay.” With a hoarse throat, I forced out the word, syllable by syllable.

Sienna Shaw POV After Sebastian left, I lay in the hospital bed. I thought I could wait for his plan. I thought I could leave this place safely. But the next morning, the phone screen on my bedside table suddenly lit up. It was a short video from an unknown number. I tapped it open. In the video, an excavator was smashing into the red-brick villa. The walls collapsed with a deafening crash. That was the memorial hall my father had protected his entire life. In the lower right corner of the video, a marble-pale wrist looped around Lucas’s arm appeared. It belonged to Serena. Then a text message popped up. [How pitiful. The home you treasured so much is gone.] My mind buzzed. I didn’t care about the IV needle in the back of my hand. I yanked hard, ripping it out. Blood instantly gushed from the back of my hand and dripped onto my hospital gown. I didn’t even put on shoes. Barefoot, I ran out of the hospital. By the time I stumbled to the entrance of the old building, most of the memorial hall had already collapsed. Only the last red-brick wall with an archway stood alone in the ruins. I rushed inside like a madwoman, but two security guards grabbed me and pinned me down in the pile of rubble. “Let go of me! Let go!” Sharp, jagged stones tore open both my knees. Blood soon soaked through my hospital gown. Lucas stood not far away in a black suit, holding a black umbrella. Serena clung to his arm, covering her mouth as she laughed softly. Pinned down by the guards, I desperately raised my head and stared hard at Lucas. “Lucas Lawson! Tell them to stop! That’s the only thing my dad left behind! He didn’t plagiarize! He was framed!” Lucas slowly walked over and stopped two steps away from me. Mud splattered his leather shoes. He frowned slightly, then crouched down gently and pried my fingers, one by one, from the cuff of his pants. “Sienna, the ground is dirty. Let’s get you up first, okay?” He brushed the mud and grit from my shoulder. His voice was still gentle, but his eyes were utterly cold. I knelt on both knees in the pile of rubble and slammed my forehead hard against the sharp stones. “I’m begging you! Lucas, I’m begging you!” With no dignity left, I kowtowed to him. “Tell them to stop! My dad’s paintbrushes are inside, and his photos… please.” My forehead struck the broken stones. In an instant, it split open, blood pouring down. Blood mixed with mud and smeared across my entire face. Lucas stood above me with the umbrella, looking down at the sight of me covered in blood. A flicker of disgust crossed his eyes. “Sienna, stop making a scene. You look like a lunatic.” Lucas’s voice remained gentle, yet it was so cold it held no warmth at all. “Your dad is already dead. What’s the use of keeping these things?” Serena giggled beside him. “Exactly, Sienna. Even if you keep them, you can’t protect them.” My nails dug deep into the cracks between the stones, leaving my fingers bloody and mangled. Seeing the steel claw about to come down again, I completely broke down. I crawled on my knees to Lucas’s feet, clutched his calf tightly, and sobbed until my heart felt torn apart. “I’ll sign the agreement! I don’t want anything anymore! I’ll give it all to Serena! Please… don’t let the big truck move… I’m begging you…” Lucas looked down at me. At last, satisfaction appeared in his eyes. He bent down and used a silk handkerchief to wipe the blood from my forehead. “Wouldn’t it have been better if you’d behaved this well from the start? Sign it, and I’ll leave you something to remember it by.” He shoved an inheritance waiver and a pen into my bleeding palm. My hand trembled uncontrollably. Blood seeping from the cracked nails of my right hand dragged a vivid red streak across the signature line. I thought that as long as I lowered myself into the mud, I could preserve the last thing my father had left behind. Trembling, I handed the agreement over. Lucas took it. After confirming the signature was correct, he stuffed it into his secretary’s arms. His tone carried a practiced indulgence. “Good girl.” But the next second, he stood up. Without even looking at that red wall, he calmly ordered the foreman behind him, “This place is a safety hazard. Keep demolishing it.” My pupils suddenly contracted, and a piercing sound tore from my throat. “Lucas Lawson—!” “Boom!” The steel claw crashed down before my eyes, and the final red-brick archway instantly shattered into ruins. With his arm around Serena, Lucas turned and got into the black car parked by the road. The car started and sped away in a cloud of dust, splashing muddy water hard across my hospital gown. I collapsed into the muddy water and stared at the broken bricks scattered before me, my eyes bloodshot. Inch by inch, I crawled over. With my bleeding right hand, I clutched a cracked red brick tightly. I pressed my face against the cold brick, as if I were holding my father’s once-warm hand. I remembered the way my father used to hold my hand and teach me to write. I remembered the last “I’m sorry” he said to me before he jumped from the building. Now it was all gone. Holding that brick, tears fell from my eyes in huge drops. I lay amid the rubble. Then, hysterically, I began to laugh. “Lucas Lawson, you’re so cruel!”

Sienna Shaw POV I don’t remember how I got back to the villa. I only remember that, that night, the private doctor used tweezers to pick the grains of sand and mud from my wounds one by one. A week later, the bloody cuts on both my knees had scabbed over. Lucas tossed a pair of white stockings and an oversized coat onto the head of the bed. He reached out and gently stroked my cheek. “Tonight is a collaboration between our two families. The banquet is being held on a cruise ship in international waters. Be good. Don’t go crazy again. I’ll take you out to enjoy the sea breeze.” But when I truly boarded the cruise ship, I realized that every step up the stairs tore open the wounds on my knees again and again. Thick blood seeped into the white stockings, dyeing them red. The pain made cold sweat pour out of me. Lucas’s hand tightened slightly around my shoulder, his grip so strong it nearly crushed my bones. He whispered in my ear, “There are important foreign guests here today. If you dare act crazy again, I’ll have you locked in a psychiatric hospital.” I let him grip my arm and lead me into a corner of the banquet hall. Not far away, Serena wore a custom gown and held a glass of red wine, moving gracefully among the powerful and wealthy. Everyone surrounded her at the center, praising her as the genius who designed that church. And I was thrown by Lucas into the darkest corner. Since yesterday, I had not had a single drop of water. My empty stomach hurt so badly that cold sweat kept breaking out. I could only dig my nails hard into the flesh of my thigh, using pain to stay conscious. I was waiting for midnight. That was the time Sebastian and I had agreed on. At this very moment, in the blind spot of the sea where the cruise ship’s cameras could not capture anything, jumping into the water was my only way to survive. It was also my only chance to escape Lucas. At last, the hands of the wall clock overlapped. I braced myself against the wall and stood. I moved extremely slowly, without alerting anyone. Amid the noisy clinking of glasses and chatter, I pushed open the cabin door alone and walked onto the deck. The deck was pitch-black. The sea wind cut like knives, making me cough violently. The taste of blood spread through my mouth. I steadied myself against the railing. Below the railing was the open sea of international waters, black waves surging into the sky. I unbuttoned my coat, took off the white coat, folded it neatly, and placed it on the deck. I would take off this coat and leave behind this wedding ring. I wanted to leave the version of me tortured beyond recognition on this ship forever. In Lucas’s eyes, this would be a final, absolute suicide. But in my heart, this was the beginning of a new life. I climbed over the iron railing and stood on the suspended edge of the deck. “Sienna Shaw! What are you doing standing there?!” Behind me, Lucas’s distorted roar suddenly rang out. I turned my head. Lucas was rushing toward me like a madman, both hands reaching for me. His eyes were bloodshot, and his voice trembled violently in the sea wind. “Get down from there! Who told you to stand there?!” I looked at him and suddenly smiled. For the first time in three years, a clear and gentle smile appeared on my face. I pulled the earplugs from my ears and casually threw them into the pitch-black sea. Then, in a hoarse voice, I enunciated each word. “Lucas Lawson, we’re even now.” The instant Lucas’s fingers were about to grab the hem of my clothes, my body fell backward and plunged straight into the night. “Sienna—!”

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Three years into our marriage, I ruined one hand for him, and Grandma sold off her jewelry for him. But in the end, for the sister of his so-called lifesaver, he gave my marital home to her for free, and for her sake, he drained Grandma’s blood right after she came out of the ICU. I finally saw him for what he was. I dissolved the marriage unilaterally and bought a one-way ticket to London. But after the divorce, he went insane trying to win me back… Sophie Reed POV In the third year of our marriage, I went to the bank to close our joint safe-deposit box. The teller looked at the holder names in the system and smiled politely. “Mrs. Foster, closing a joint safe-deposit box requires your husband Brandon Foster’s co-signature.” Calmly, I took back my ID. “No need. I’m not Mrs. Foster. My name is Sophie Reed, and I’m single now.” Just an hour ago, I had watched Brandon Foster sign an equity transfer agreement with my own eyes, transferring 10% of Foster Tech’s original sweat equity shares to Nina Young for free. Nina Young was the younger sister of his late best friend, Shawn. Seven years ago, Brandon Foster had nothing. It was my Grandma who sold her jewelry to help him buy his first piece of hardware equipment. Five years ago, when he was short on the down payment for a precision machine tool, I hid it from him and risked my life street racing through a stormy night to raise 200,000 RMB, breaking my left wrist and leaving it with permanent hidden damage. Three years ago, when Brandon Foster’s company was on the verge of bankruptcy, it was me again who risked my life driving at high speed in an overseas evacuation zone to save Old Mr. Zahn, securing hundreds of millions in investment from Zahn Group for him. But for the past five years, as long as Nina Young crooked a finger, Brandon Foster could abandon me when I was sick, cancel every date, and even transfer my marital home to her outright, all because of one sentence: “Shawn saved my life with his. I have to take care of Nina for the rest of her life.” I tolerated it for five years. Until today, when I saw that equity transfer agreement, and finally, completely gave up. I pushed open the bank doors and walked straight into the drizzle outside. But before I could reach the curb, my phone began to vibrate wildly, along with an alert from the bank system warning of an abnormal change in our joint assets. Two minutes later, a black Maybach screeched to a stop in front of me, cutting me off. The car door was shoved open roughly. Brandon Foster stepped out, carrying a chill all over him, strode toward me, and grabbed my arm. His grip was so hard it nearly crushed my bones. “Sophie Reed, are you done making a scene?!” Brandon Foster’s brows were locked tight, his eyes full of irritation and panic. “You haven’t come home for a week. You won’t answer my calls. Now you’re even running to the bank to clear out our joint assets! Do you know the security alert went straight to my phone? What the hell are you trying to do?” I lowered my eyes and looked at the hand he was gripping. It was my left hand, and numbness spread from my fingertips through the cracks between my bones. “Let go of my hand.” My tone stayed flat, unshaken. Nothing got under Brandon’s skin like my blank, unperturbed stare. It made him feel a terror he couldn’t control. He took a deep breath and used his usual tone to cover his guilt. “I know you’re angry about me buying Nina a car, but Nina is Shawn’s only sister. Shawn died saving me back then! So what if I protect her a little more? Do you really have to blow it this far out of proportion and use our seven years together as leverage?” Before he could finish speaking, the phone in his arms rang sharply. Nina Young’s name flashed across the screen. Brandon Foster answered, and Nina Young’s soft, tearful voice immediately came through. “Brandon… my car broke down on Ring Road. The people behind me keep honking at me. I’m so scared, and my stomach is starting to hurt again…” At the words stomach hurt, Brandon Foster’s expression changed instantly. He didn’t even bother questioning me anymore and spoke urgently into the phone. “Nina, don’t be scared. Lock the doors and stay in the car. I’m coming to pick you up right now!” After hanging up, Brandon Foster shoved me aside and hurried back toward the car, his tone an unquestionable order. “Sophie Reed, stop messing around. Nina is timid, and her stomach illness is acting up again. I have to go. Whatever it is, we’ll talk when I get back!” The Maybach sped away, its exhaust dispersing into the rainy mist and splashing dirty muddy water across the ground. I stood in the cold rain and slowly exhaled. I took out my phone and dialed that special encrypted number. “Ms. Reed, hello.” On the other end was the person in charge of the Foreign Ministry’s Special-Region Consular Protection Emergency Defensive Driving Unit, his voice precise and formal. “Regarding the special driving assignment application for high-risk regions that you submitted, we have passed the preliminary review. Since the area is on the brink of war and the risk level is extremely high, are you sure you want to accept the deployment?” I looked toward the corner where the Maybach had disappeared. There was not the slightest fluctuation in my voice. “I’m sure.” “All right. Given the danger of your mission, the protection driving unit has the right to provide you with family separation privilege, including enforcing a unilateral divorce for you in the backend through the national security channel. Do you need to activate this privilege?” “Yes.” I stroked the scar on my left wrist. “Within half a month before departure, help me get divorced.” “Understood. The unilateral compulsory divorce procedure has been initiated and will take effect in half a month.” After hanging up, I put my phone back into my bag and walked calmly into the curtain of rain.

Sophie Reed POV Three days later, Brandon Foster’s assistant forcibly dragged me to Foster Tech’s new product launch. “Sophie Reed, today’s launch determines whether the company can secure follow-up investment from Zahn Group. Miles Zahn is sitting in the audience today.” In the backstage corridor, Brandon Foster adjusted his suit while pressing down on my shoulders, half coaxing and half forcing me. “Sit obediently in the audience and let the media capture footage of us looking like a harmonious couple. I can’t have any negative news about relationship problems, understand?” I stood quietly in the shadows, not even bothering to nod as a pretense. But when the staff led me into the venue, I realized there was no seat for me in the most central VIP seats in the front row. In the seat representing the company family representative sat Nina Young, perfectly composed. She wore a white haute couture gown and was speaking softly and gently with the investors below the stage. As for me, the staff led me all the way to the very corner, behind the media section. “Hey, why are you sitting here?” A female employee who didn’t know who I was came over and tapped the table in front of me, her attitude arrogant. “These rows are reserved for partner media. Don’t get in the way here. If you damage the equipment behind you, can you afford to pay for it?” I looked up at her without explaining, then stood coldly and stepped back into the dim exit corridor behind me. The launch began soon after, with thunderous applause. When it came time for the ribbon-cutting ceremony, Nina Young walked gracefully onto the stage under everyone’s gaze and stood beside Brandon Foster as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The two of them held the golden scissors together, and the flashbulbs flickered like daylight. Below the stage, a familiar business partner teased suggestively, “Mr. Foster, Ms. Young’s white dress… Anyone who didn’t know better would think today wasn’t just a product launch, but your wedding ceremony too.” A burst of knowing laughter erupted through the venue. Brandon Foster’s body stiffened onstage. His gaze swept over the front row in near panic, trying to find me. But the front row was empty. I wasn’t there at all. Facing Miles Zahn, the investor below the stage, Brandon Foster gritted his teeth. In the end, he did not open his mouth to clarify. He merely curved his lips as if accepting it, revealing an ambiguous smile, allowing Nina Young to quietly lean a little closer to his side. Standing in the shadowy corridor, I calmly watched the whole scene unfold. The last flicker of feeling inside me died away for good. I lowered my head, unlocked my phone, and logged into the airline’s internal ticketing system. Because the driving unit had already submitted the compulsory divorce application for me, my household registration status had been changed in the backend to single, pending deregistration. Without hesitating for even a second, I directly clicked to confirm a one-way flight to London half a month later. At the same time the ticket confirmation chime sounded, the launch was announced over. I turned and was about to leave, but at the corner of the corridor, Brandon Foster rushed over and blocked my path. Brandon Foster’s tie was crooked, and his eyes were filled with panic and the irritability of being interrupted. He stared hard at the phone in my hand, whose screen had not yet gone dark, and interrogated me. “Who were you texting just now? Was it those thugs who drive street races? How many times have I told you that you’re not allowed to contact those people anymore?” His expression was agitated, and he reached out to snatch my phone. I calmly and unhurriedly put my phone back into my pocket, then lifted my eyes to look at him. “It has nothing to do with you.” I brushed his hand away and passed him coldly, walking toward the exit. Brandon Foster froze where he stood, an icy sense of losing control curling through his chest.

Sophie Reed POV When I left the hotel, the rain outside grew heavier again. I hailed a taxi by the roadside. I did not return to the luxury apartment Brandon Foster had bought. Instead, I went straight back to the old shop on Old Street. This was where they had started their business. Five years ago, Brandon Foster had still been a poor boy guarding this little general store, and I had been the only helper here. But now, all that remained were old parts covered in dust and one dim hanging lamp. I sat beneath the lamp, unbuttoned my cuff, and laid a warm towel over my left wrist, massaging it again and again. Just now in the corridor, Brandon Foster’s rough pulling had made the old injury begin to ache faintly again. The old shop was so quiet it was a little frightening. I looked at the empty measuring cup for medicine sitting on the corner of the table, and my eyes warmed. After Grandma developed moderate Alzheimer’s disease, she often failed to recognize people. Last month, she had just undergone major heart surgery. Now she could only stay in a nursing home on the outskirts of the city. Back then, when Brandon Foster didn’t have the money to buy his first piece of equipment, Grandma had hidden it from me, sold her jewelry, and pressed the money into Brandon Foster’s hands. At that time, Brandon Foster held the old woman’s hand, his eyes red, calling her Grandma over and over, swearing that once he had money in the future, he would treat her like his own grandmother and take care of her. But ever since Brandon Foster made his fortune, the number of times he went to the nursing home could be counted on one hand. And the Grandma in his mouth gradually became the polite, distant “Mrs. Reed.” Before the towel on my wrist could cool, the half-closed wooden door was pushed open. Brandon Foster walked in. The air of the nouveau riche around him looked painfully out of place here. “Sophie Reed, why did you leave me alone in the corridor without even saying a word?” Brandon Foster sat down on the wooden chair beside him, his tone carrying a trace of impatience he was forcing down. I turned slightly without speaking, only laying the warm towel over my wrist again. Brandon Foster tugged at the corner of his mouth, softening his tone a little. “Once Zahn Group’s investment comes through, I’ll buy you a big flat in River Bay. From now on, you won’t have to suffer in this dark, damp place anymore.” My expression remained flat, my voice cool and mild. “Are you done?” “You’re always like this. You can’t even say one nice thing.” Brandon Foster sighed, his tone tinged with helplessness. “Tomorrow I’ll have the construction crew come over and tear down this old shop. Nina’s new car is always getting scratched in the public parking spaces. She complained to me a few times, so I’m planning to rebuild this place into a private garage for her. It’s sitting empty anyway.” Tear down the old shop. Tear down the place where they had started from nothing, all to build Nina Young a private garage. I did not argue with him. I stood up, walked to the old writing desk, pulled open the bottom drawer, and took out the property ownership certificate inside. I walked back and threw the certificate in front of Brandon Foster. “Here.” I looked at that property ownership certificate. “You can call someone to tear it down tomorrow.” Brandon Foster stared fixedly at the property deed, a flash of pathetic panic crossing his eyes. The instant I handed over the ownership so cleanly, he suddenly felt that something was slipping completely out of his control. To hide that inexplicable panic, Brandon Foster’s tone sank. “Sophie Reed, everything I do is for our future, but you insist on throwing a tantrum with me over this old shop. Without me, how are you supposed to survive on your own?” Building a private garage for another woman was for our future? Even that excuse was so absurd I found it laughable. I said nothing, not even half a sentence to defend myself. I no longer cared how he judged me. Suddenly, the phone in Brandon Foster’s arms rang sharply. Nina Young’s name flashed across the screen. He answered, and Nina Young’s hysterical sobbing voice instantly filled the silent shop. “Brandon… my car was maliciously smashed and scratched up at the intersection near the old shop. The windows are shattered too. I’m so scared. Hurry over…” Brandon Foster’s expression changed. He whipped his gaze toward me, his eyes sharp. He snatched the property ownership certificate off the table, stood up, and left one irritated sentence behind. “I’m going out for a bit. Whatever it is, we’ll talk later.” The door slammed heavily shut. I withdrew my gaze. Outside, the sound of the rain grew louder and louder, beating against the worn window lattice. Twenty minutes later, the tightly shut wooden door was kicked open violently from the outside with an ear-piercing crash. Brandon Foster rushed in, wrapped in damp, cold rain. Water was still dripping from his suit. His eyes were bloodshot as he stared at me, his voice trembling hard. “Sophie Reed, when did you become so despicable?!”

Sophie Reed POV “Nina Young’s car hood was completely scratched up. The surveillance footage caught Grandma Reed at the scene!” Brandon Foster roared, grabbed my collar, and shoved my whole body hard into the shelf beside us. “It’s bad enough that you’re targeting Nina. Now you’re even using an old woman who just had heart surgery? You actually incited her to run out in the pouring rain and smash a car for you?!” My back crashed against the metal rack with an ear-splitting metallic shriek. My mind went blank in an instant. Grandma’s illness had flared up… Wearing her hospital gown, she had walked all the way from the nursing home in the outskirts back to the old shop in the heavy rain. The instant I was shoved, I instinctively used my left hand to brace myself. A crisp crack came from my wrist joint, and a wave of searing, dislocated pain crashed over my whole frame Cold sweat broke out all at once. My face turned deathly pale, and my fingertips trembled violently, but I did not make a sound. Brandon Foster glanced at my slightly shaking wrist, his brows tightening, but his tone was still perfectly self-righteous. “Stop pretending in front of me. I’m sick of your little martyr act. For what happened today, you must give Nina and me an explanation!” I pressed down hard on my trembling wrist, the pain so intense even my breathing shook. It was at that very second that the phone in my palm vibrated sharply. It was an urgent text from a caregiver at the nursing home: [Ms. Reed! This is bad! A group of people just forcibly took Grandma Reed from her ward. They said the old lady is suspected of deliberately damaging someone else’s property and that they’re taking her away for confrontation!] I didn’t even have time to rub my throbbing wrist. I shoved Brandon Foster away and rushed out of the shop. Outside, rain poured down in sheets. When I arrived at the private car wash Nina Young had mentioned, I could hear the sound of a high-pressure water gun from far away, along with Nina Young’s delicate laughter. “Spray more cold water on her. Wake the old lady up a little. She scratched someone else’s car and can’t even say sorry. How disgraceful at her age.” Inside the empty, damp car wash, Grandma was wearing a thin hospital gown, pinned tightly to a cold metal chair by two bodyguards. The high-pressure cold water gun was aimed straight at the old woman, the icy water blasting against her pale, withered face. The old woman’s entire body shook violently. She could barely breathe, her lips had turned purple, and all she could make were faint moans. “Stop!” I rushed over like I had lost my mind. But before I could get close, an arm appeared out of nowhere and blocked me hard. Brandon Foster stood firmly in front of Nina Young, his face tense as he said to me helplessly, “Calm down. Nina was just too anxious. Mrs. Reed really was at the scene. It’s perfectly reasonable for Nina to want an explanation. Once this is cleared up, I’ll naturally send the old lady back.” Rain hit my face. I had no time to wipe it away. My gaze went straight past Brandon Foster and landed on the old woman shrinking back on the metal chair behind him. “Mrs. Reed?” My voice was so hoarse I could barely speak. I looked at Brandon Foster, my eyes full of grief. “Brandon Foster, back when you didn’t have the money to buy your first machine tool and cried in her arms, what did you call her? Do you still remember? And now you call her Mrs. Reed?” Brandon Foster’s expression froze, and a deep flash of shame crossed his eyes. Nina hid behind Brandon, shoulders trembling, her eyes red as she cried pitifully. “Brandon… I wasn’t trying to hurt the old lady. She was the one who scratched my car with her cane first… I just wanted to ask her what was going on.” Under everyone’s stunned gazes, I walked forward calmly, snatched the water gun from the bodyguard’s hands, and hurled it hard onto the ground. I held Grandma, who was nearly unconscious, tightly in my arms. The old woman’s body was as cold as a block of ice. I wrapped her in my coat, carried her on my back, and step by step, walked out into the pouring rain. In the late-night storm, not a single taxi passed by. The old woman’s body temperature was draining away rapidly in my arms. The dislocated bones in my left wrist ground violently against each other, the pain so sharp that every step felt like I was treading on blades. I had no idea how many times I fell. My knees were scraped bloody, but I still clung desperately to the unconscious old woman in my arms. When I finally stumbled through the doors of the public hospital emergency department, my whole body crashed heavily to its knees on the cold marble floor. With my uninjured right hand, I clutched a nurse’s coat and begged, “Doctor, please save my grandma… Please…” The stark fluorescent hospital lights blurred everything in front of my eyes while my left wrist hung limply against the floor, a horrific dark bruise was spreading all up my wrist.

The hospital room was deathly quiet. Drained of all strength, I leaned against the glass window outside the ICU, staring without blinking at the old woman whose body was covered in tubes and monitors. The doctor had told me privately just now that when the old lady had been brought in, her body temperature was dangerously low. A severe lung infection and excessive shock had triggered acute heart failure. Even though she was now in the ICU receiving conservative treatment, her life could be in danger at any moment. My swollen, trembling right hand rested lightly over my left wrist, which was completely dislocated and deformed. A sharp, piercing pain pulsed there in waves. But it was as if I couldn’t feel pain at all. “Sophie Reed, are you done making a scene? I had to ask the nursing home before I found out you were here.” At the end of the hallway, Brandon came striding over with a fruit basket and premium ginseng in hand. “Nina was just too anxious. She’s young and doesn’t know better. I’ve already scolded her. I’ve had my secretary cover the old lady’s hospital bills and follow-up recovery expenses this time. This ends here. Stop clinging to it and come home with me.” I didn’t even turn my head. I stared blankly at Grandma behind the glass, my voice as faint as a thread. “Okay.” I couldn’t even be bothered to explain another word. Because I knew that the unilateral divorce procedure the Foreign Ministry’s protection driving unit was handling for me would take full effect in ten days. All I wanted now was to wait until Grandma’s vital signs stabilized, then take her to London immediately and leave this filthy city forever. Brandon assumed I was the same as always, that as long as he gave me an out, I would obediently lower my head. He smiled in relief and reached out to touch my hair. “That’s more like it. Once I’m done with this busy stretch, we’ll bring Grandma home together.” I tilted my head slightly and avoided his hand. Then I closed my eyes and stopped looking at him. Brandon seemed a little embarrassed. After giving a few instructions, he turned and left. But I had underestimated how vicious those two could be. They had no bottom line. They could even trample every drop of blood and bone from others for their own sake. Two afternoons later, I hurried back to the ward with a newly issued lab report in hand. But the entrance to the ICU was already in chaos. Several doctors and bodyguards were forcefully pushing Grandma’s hospital bed toward the elevator. My heart tightened. I rushed over like a madwoman and blocked the bed. “What are you doing?! My grandma can’t be moved. She has severe heart failure!” The nurse’s eyes darted away. She was so anxious that her eyes had gone red. “Ms. Reed, I’m sorry… Mr. Foster gave strict orders. We have to take the old lady to the top floor. Ms. Young had an accident during an ocean party. She lost a lot of blood, and the blood bank was critically short of Rh-negative blood. In the entire hospital, only the old lady is a match…” It felt as if a thunderbolt had struck me in broad daylight. “She just came back from being rescued in the ICU! Drawing her blood is the same as killing her!” I used my body to block the bed with everything I had, my hoarse voice warping out of shape. Just then, Brandon’s hurried footsteps came from the elevator. He walked over with a dark expression and yanked me aside. “Sophie Reed, stop making trouble!” Brandon’s voice was full of irritation and urgency. “Shawn only had one sister. I can’t just watch her die! They’re only taking a little blood from the old lady. Nothing will happen. I asked the doctors. As long as they control the amount, it won’t be fatal. If there are any consequences, I’ll take responsibility!” “You’ll take responsibility? What are you going to use to take responsibility?!” I gripped his sleeve tightly, my eyes bloodshot. “Brandon Foster, touch your own conscience! How did my grandma treat you back then?!” “Sophie, now isn’t the time for this!” Brandon’s face darkened completely. He didn’t even bother to give me another explanation. He waved directly at the bodyguards and doctors behind him, his tone cold and resolute. “Take the old lady upstairs. Transfer all the doctors from the cardiology department and the emergency department to the top floor. Fully cooperate with Nina Young’s surgery!” “Brandon Foster—!!” My scream echoed through the hallway, but my swollen, deformed left hand had no strength at all. I could only watch helplessly as Grandma’s hospital bed was pushed into the elevator. And Brandon didn’t even look back once. He disappeared to the top floor with everyone else. The vast intensive care area instantly fell into dead silence. All the doctors and nurses on duty had been forcibly transferred away by Brandon. An hour later, the cardiac monitor in the ICU suddenly let out a sharp, single tone. Beep— That piercing sound was like a razor-sharp knife, instantly slicing the world inside my chest to pieces. Like a madwoman, I shoved open the doors of the ICU. There were no doctors on duty. No nurses to resuscitate her. In the empty sterile ward, only the cold machine rang out in a monotonous, ear-splitting cry. I staggered to the bedside. My knees gave way, and I crashed heavily to the floor. “Grandma…” Trembling, I reached out with my right hand and grabbed the shriveled hand resting on the bedsheet. That warm hand that had once held mine as I grew up was now rapidly losing its warmth, turning cold and stiff. The back of the old woman’s right hand was covered in massive purplish bruises left behind by a rough, excessive blood draw. At the needle mark, there was even a dark red strand of blood that had already clotted before anyone had the chance to wipe it away. “Grandma… Open your eyes and look at Sophie. We’re going to London. We won’t stay here anymore…” Without warning, tears surged out, huge drops smashing onto the old woman’s lifeless face. I pressed my face against Grandma’s cold forehead, desperately trying to warm her with my own body heat. But all I touched was a deathly chill, like stagnant water. The grief was so extreme it jammed in my throat, turning into hopeless sobs. In this world, the only family member who had loved me with all her heart died in a room without a doctor. And the person who had drained her blood was the lover I had spent seven years of my youth lifting up with my own hands. Just then, in that almost suffocating stillness, the phone in my soaked pocket suddenly lit up. Numbly, I slid open the lock screen. On the screen was a photo Brandon had sent. Brandon was sitting beside the bed in a luxurious ward on the top floor, holding Nina’s hand with the utmost tenderness. Beneath the photo was a message from Brandon: Sophie, Nina is out of danger. I already had the caregiver send the best supplements over to the old lady. Once this busy period is over, we’ll bring Grandma back to the new house together. I stared at that line of text. Tears mixed with blood slid from the corners of my eyes and fell onto the white bedsheet. “Ha… haha…” A very soft, very broken laugh slipped from my throat. Brandon Foster, the blood debt between us is settled.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “444682”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

“Iris is pregnant,” Carter said, standing in the shadows of the rehearsal hall. His voice was barely a whisper. “The wedding goes on. After we’re married, I’ll spend a few days a week taking care of her. Once she’s stable, everything will go back to the way it was.” I clutched the ring box so hard my knuckles turned white. “And what about me? Where do I fit into your little schedule?” “You’re my fiancée. Tomorrow, you’ll be Mrs. Sterling.” He frowned, looking at me like I was throwing a tantrum. “Isn’t that title enough for you?” Iris, wearing an oversized coat and looking perfectly pale, chimed in softly. “Chloe, I don’t want to steal your place. I just want my baby to have a father.” I set the ring box on the table. “Then anyone else can have this damn title.” A toxic, dirty man? I don’t want him anymore. Chloe’s POV I was about to marry the man I had loved for years, Carter Sterling. I spent six months planning this wedding. I even personally picked out the color of the coffee mugs in our new penthouse. But during the rehearsal the night before the wedding, an untitled video suddenly played on the ballroom’s giant screen. On screen, Iris, Carter’s childhood best friend, was rubbing her belly and whining cutely. “Carter, the doctor said the baby is doing great. Don’t drink too much at your wedding tomorrow. You promised you would spend a few days a week with us after you are married. Don’t forget.” In the top right corner of the screen, Carter’s contact name for her was saved as: Iris & Baby. The room went dead silent. Carter, who had arrived late, didn’t even look panicked. He just frowned at me. “Don’t make a scene. Don’t make us a laughingstock.” I stood in the dim light, the ring box digging painfully into my palm. Carter’s friends reacted first, awkwardly trying to block the screen. “This is a misunderstanding! Iris is just joking around again! Don’t take it to heart, Chloe. We all grew up together. She’s just talking nonsense. We’re just friends!” The next second, Iris pushed the door open. She wore a loose coat, held a thermos, and looked perfectly, delicately pale. When she saw me, she actually smiled. “Chloe, don’t worry. Carter and I really aren’t what you think. The baby was an accident. I didn’t mean to come between you.” “An accident?” I asked. Carter walked over and lowered his voice. “Don’t start something now. There are too many people here tonight.” I stared at him. “She’s pregnant, and you’re telling me not to start something?” Carter frowned, as if I had asked an incredibly tasteless question. “I wasn’t planning on keeping it from you. Now that the baby is here, I can’t just ignore it. The wedding can still happen. After we’re married, I’ll spend a few days a week taking care of her. Once she’s stable, everything will go back to normal.” Iris chimed in softly, “Don’t worry, Chloe. I’m not trying to steal the title of Mrs. Sterling. I’m not that greedy. I just want my baby to have a father.” “And me?” I smiled coldly. “What am I in your little arrangement?” Carter snapped, annoyed. “You’re my fiancée. Tomorrow you’ll be Mrs. Sterling. Isn’t that enough? Iris has no family left. I’m just helping her out. Why do you have to play the victim?” I heard people around us whispering, telling me that a man making a mistake before marriage wasn’t a big deal, that Carter was at least being honest, and that since Iris was being so reasonable, I shouldn’t make things ugly. I set the ring box on the table. My voice wasn’t loud, but it was crystal clear. “The wedding is canceled.” Carter’s face darkened. “Chloe Vance, think carefully before you speak.” “I’ve thought it through.” I grabbed my purse and walked past him. “Have fun with the rest of your rehearsal. Enjoy the show.” As I reached the exit, my phone rang. Liam’s voice came through, filled with a rushed anxiety he couldn’t hide. “Chloe, if you really don’t want to marry him, get downstairs now. I’m parked outside.” The night wind hit my face, and my eyes stung with tears. I whispered, “Wait for me.” I walked to the end of the hallway and called the wedding coordinator. “Don’t worry about the bridal suite tomorrow. Cancel all my segments of the wedding. Send me the bill for any financial losses.” The coordinator sounded terrified. “Miss Vance, can we talk about this?” I looked at my reflection in the glass window. My makeup was perfect, but I felt completely hollowed out. “No need. The groom has someone else who needs his care more. I’m not fighting for him.” After I hung up, the wedding Snapchat group was still buzzing. People were asking what time the wedding started tomorrow, joking that Carter shouldn’t drink too much on his last night of freedom. I renamed the group to *Wedding Canceled* and left. “Find someone else who’s ‘mature’ enough to be your Mrs. Sterling.” I slammed the ring box onto the table. It wasn’t loud, but it carried weight. “The wedding is canceled.” Ignoring Carter’s instantly furious expression, I turned and walked away. I immediately sent a message to the wedding group: *Wedding canceled.* Then I left the group.

Chloe’s POV The moment I walked out of the hotel, Liam’s Maybach was already idling at the curb. “If you really don’t want to marry him, get in,” Liam said, looking at me. That was all he said. With red eyes, I pulled open the door. “I need to go back and get my documents.” I drove back to the penthouse I had spent six months decorating. But when I pushed the door open, the entryway was piled with baby sleeping bags and unopened prenatal vitamins. Victoria, Carter’s mother, was directing the housekeeper to clear out the guest bedroom. Seeing me return, she smiled as if nothing had happened. “Chloe, you’re back just in time. Iris is in her first trimester, and she has no one to take care of her out there. I had her move in here for a few days. You’re the real Mrs. Sterling, so you need to be understanding. That’s the only way to keep peace in the family.” I stared at her coldly. “This is my and Carter’s home.” “Our family co-signed this penthouse, and Iris is carrying a Sterling baby. Why shouldn’t she stay here?” Victoria’s face hardened. “Carter is a successful man. It’s only natural for him to have some temptations outside. Do you not even understand how high society works?” “Then go find someone who ‘understands’ and let her marry him.” I didn’t waste another breath. I walked straight into the bedroom, packing my passport and important documents into a suitcase. Hurry footsteps echoed from the hallway. Carter rushed in, looking completely disheveled. He slammed his hand against the doorframe, blocking my way. “How long are you going to keep making a scene? If you walk out that door tonight, what are we supposed to do tomorrow?” “When you let Iris move into our home, did you think about what we were supposed to do?” I shoved him away, my eyes filled with nothing but absolute coldness. “I’m not making a scene. I am leaving. Did you seriously expect me to stay, give up my room, accompany her to OB-GYN appointments, and then smile while taking care of her tomorrow?” Victoria got defensive. “Iris is pregnant! Watch your mouth!” “That’s why I’m leaving!” Carter didn’t believe I would actually walk away. I had chased him for four years. Everyone knew it. I was the one who brought him homemade soup when he pulled late nights for his startup. I was the one who remembered all his food allergies. I was the one who saved every single Sterling family member’s birthday in my calendar. Carter was used to my gentleness. He was used to me hiding my own wounds whenever he hurt me. So, he reached out to grab my suitcase. “Go to a hotel to cool off tonight. The makeup artist is still coming tomorrow morning.” I dodged his hand. “No need.” “Chloe Vance,” Carter warned, lowering his voice. “Don’t force me to say something ugly in front of my mother.” Liam walked over from the elevator lobby. He smoothly took the suitcase from my hand. “Go ahead and say it. I’d love to hear it.” Only then did Carter notice him. His face instantly changed. “What the hell are you doing here?” “Picking her up,” Liam said flatly. “She doesn’t want to stay here, so I’m taking her.” Carter let out a harsh laugh. “Since when is our business any of your concern?” Liam looked down at me. “Is he still your fiancé?” I answered instantly. “No.” Victoria stood up, furious. “Chloe! Do you even know what you’re saying? Marriage isn’t a game! If you walk out with another man tonight, what do you think people will say about you tomorrow?” “They’ll say I found out my fiancé knocked up another woman right before our wedding, and I cut my losses in time.” I paused. “Honestly, that sounds great. I’m not ashamed.” Carter stared at me, suddenly letting out a cold smirk. “Cut your losses? Chloe, you sound tough right now, but don’t come crying back to me in a few days.” I didn’t look back. Carter lunged forward to grab me. “Chloe, you are not leaving with him!” I stepped back, swatting his hand away with pure disgust. “Don’t touch me. You make me sick.” The elevator doors slowly slid shut, completely blocking out Carter’s enraged face. The moment the doors closed, my tense shoulders finally slumped. Liam stood beside me. He held back for a long time before asking softly, “Are you hurt?” “Where?” “Everywhere.” I looked up at him, tears threatening to spill over. I forced them back and whispered, “Even if it hurts, I’m never going back.” Liam shifted the suitcase to his other hand. “Then we don’t go back.” The next morning, the Sterling family tried to push through with the wedding anyway. Victoria kept calling my family’s house, screaming that I had no respect for the bigger picture. My father answered with just one sentence: “The wedding is canceled. Don’t ever contact my daughter again.” Carter tried to call me, but his number was already blocked. He used his assistant’s phone to dial. Liam answered it. “She’s resting,” Liam said. “Mr. Sterling, stop calling.” Carter roared through the receiver, “Put her on!” “Why should I?” Liam paused. “You owe her some peace and quiet.” He hung up. Robert Sterling tried to reach my father. When the call finally went through, he only got half a sentence out before my father coldly cut him off. “My daughter isn’t marrying into your family,” my father said. “If the Sterlings feel humiliated, you should ask your son what kind of trash he projected onto the screen at the rehearsal.”

Chloe’s POV News of the canceled wedding spread like wildfire through our social circle. Some said I had a terrible temper, while others said Carter had gone way too far. Most people stayed quiet, waiting to see if the Vance family and the Sterling family would completely cut ties. I didn’t make any public statements. I slept for half a day in the apartment Liam lent me. When I woke up, I texted my parents to let them know I was safe. Then, I paid off the remaining balances for all the wedding vendors. The banquet was off, but the florists, photographers, and coordinators had worked hard for months. I didn’t want to dump my personal mess onto innocent people. The florist called me, speaking very carefully. “Miss Vance, the flowers for the main stage are still fresh. Would you like to redirect them to a charity gala? Didn’t you mention the Vance Foundation has an event next week?” I held the phone, quiet for a few seconds. “Yes, do that. Change the theme. Don’t use any of the wedding colors.” When Liam walked out of the kitchen with a bowl of oatmeal, I was busy writing down a checklist. “Aren’t you going to rest?” he asked. “Someone has to tie up the loose ends.” I handed him the tablet. “I’ve handled the venue. If the Sterlings try to harass me, tell them to talk to my father’s lawyers.” Liam scrolled through the list, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You’re much tougher than I thought.” I smiled faintly. “I just used to waste all my strength being ‘understanding’ for Carter.” That afternoon, Iris posted on Instagram. In the photo, she was sitting in a hospital corridor with a warm latte in hand. Her caption was short but sharp: *Some bonds don’t need a label. Those who know, know.* A mutual friend immediately sent me the screenshot. I saw it and didn’t reply. But then, Carter called again. This time, he used an unknown number. “What do you actually want?” he demanded the second I picked up. “The wedding is canceled, the guests got stood up, and the hotel deposit is gone. Are you happy now, Chloe?” I replied flatly, “I paid the vendors in full.” Carter choked on his words, his tone getting angrier. “Do you think throwing money around makes you right? Iris almost had a miscarriage today, and you haven’t even called to check on her!” I let out a bitter laugh. “What does her baby have to do with me?” “You know damn well she has nobody else!” “She has you,” I said. “Carter, you don’t get to play daddy to her baby while expecting me to be your sweet, understanding fiancée. I’m out of the game. You’re free.” Silence fell over the line. Carter seemed to finally realize how cold my voice was. His tone softened slightly. “Chloe, I never wanted to lose you.” “But you’ve been doing things to lose me every single day.” I hung up and blocked the number. Liam stood by the kitchen door. Seeing me set the phone down, he asked, “What do you want for dinner?” No lectures. No deep analysis. No telling me to be mature or calm down. He just asked what I wanted to eat. My nose suddenly tickled, and I seriously thought about it. “I want something sweet.” Liam rolled up his sleeves. “Deal. I’m cooking tonight.” Halfway through the delicious dinner, I suddenly stopped eating. Liam looked up. “Stomach hurt?” I shook my head. “I was just thinking… was I really that easy to please back then?” As long as Carter said “don’t bother me,” I would instantly doubt myself, wondering if I was being too sensitive. As long as he bought me a makeup gift on holidays, I would completely overlook his coldness from the day before. I used to call it “compromising for love.” Looking back, I was just cleaning up his emotional mess. Liam didn’t badmouth Carter. He only said, “That wasn’t your fault. The fault lies with the person who knew you were easy to please, and chose to hurt you anyway.” I looked down, taking a sip of the soup. The spicy flavor made my eyes water. I didn’t want to cry, so I forced a laugh. “Since when did you become such a smooth talker?” Liam froze, his fork hovering in the air. “I’ve had practice.” “With whom?” “With someone I couldn’t win over,” he said, staring at me. “For many years.” While Liam cleared the table, I sat there quietly. I suddenly remembered the first time I brought Carter home. My mother had pulled me aside and asked, “Is he good to you?” Back then, I defended him fiercely, saying he just wasn’t good with words, and that successful men always had a temper. Now, those excuses felt like a pathetic cover-up for my own denial. “What are you thinking about?” Liam asked. I looked up. “I think my mom knew back then. She just couldn’t bear to break my heart.” Liam set a glass of warm water next to me. “Well, you don’t have to make excuses for anyone anymore.”

Carter’s POV I didn’t actually start panicking until the third day. When I went back to our penthouse, I found the door code had been changed. The property manager told me that Miss Vance had authorized her lawyer to liquidate her half of the property, and all her personal belongings had been moved out in the middle of the night. I stood at the door, holding a box of the tiramisu Chloe used to love. In the past, as long as I swallowed my pride and bought her some sweets, Chloe would always forgive me. She might complain a little, but she would still open the door, hang up my coat, and ask if I wanted some water. But this time, there were no lights on behind the door. No one was waiting. I called a mutual friend, who hesitated before speaking. “Carter, you really messed up this time. Chloe’s family handled all the wedding cancellations. They didn’t even ask the Sterlings for a dime. They’ve been more than decent.” I demanded coldly, “Where is she?” “I don’t know. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.” The line went dead. I sat back in my car, my chest feeling incredibly tight. Iris called me again, crying that she had no appetite and wanted some crème brûlée from the bakery uptown. I didn’t answer. Iris quickly sent a barrage of texts, asking if I blamed her, saying that if it weren’t for her, Chloe wouldn’t have left, and that the baby was kicking and she was so scared. Looking at the word “baby,” my head throbbed painfully. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to take responsibility. That night at the college reunion, everyone had drunk too much. Iris had leaned on my shoulder and cried, saying she had never been loved, asking if I could just stay with her for a bit. I remembered pushing her away, but I also remembered losing consciousness. When I woke up, Iris was curled up next to me. She told me it was fine, just a one-night stand, and that we should both just forget about it. I believed her. Or rather, I wanted to believe her. Because as long as I kept Iris in the “friend” box, I didn’t have to admit how dirty I had been. But now that Chloe was gone, that excuse had lost all its magic. That evening, Robert called me back to the family estate. The Vance family lawyer was sitting in the living room. He handed over the termination of engagement documents, his tone perfectly polite. “Miss Vance’s stance is clear. There was no marriage certificate filed, so this is not a divorce. She has covered all wedding expenses. As for the gifts from the Sterling family during the engagement, she has cataloged them. They will be returned to you.” Victoria slammed her hand on the table. “What is she trying to do? Is she trying to run off with another man?” The lawyer looked up. “Mrs. Sterling, please watch your words. Miss Vance is currently single. Who she associates with is none of Mr. Sterling’s business.” I stared at the documents, my fingertips turning white. “Tell her to come talk to me herself.” The lawyer capped his pen. “She does not wish to see you.” I let out a dry laugh that didn’t reach my eyes. “Fine. She’s hiding. Let’s see how long she can play this game.” After the lawyer left, Victoria was still cursing the Vance family for being heartless. But my eyes were glued to the cataloged list. Chloe had left so cleanly. The engagement necklace. The bracelet my mother gave her. The designer bags I bought her on a whim. Even a single pair of cufflinks was itemized and returned. She didn’t keep a single thing. She didn’t want any memories. It was like she was clearing out a rental apartment she never intended to return to. “She used to love these things,” I whispered. Victoria didn’t hear me. “What?” I didn’t answer. Chloe used to take photos of every single gift I gave her. She would be overjoyed for days over a bracelet that didn’t even fit her style. It wasn’t about the price tag. She just valued the thought behind them. And now, she was returning all that care in a neatly printed list. For the first time, I felt like the girl who used to run to me with open arms was truly gone. Robert was calmer than Victoria, but he was stressed. After the Vance Group pulled their joint venture, several of our ongoing projects fell into limbo. The partners didn’t outright reject us, they just said they needed to “wait and see.” But in business, everyone knows what “wait and see” actually means. Robert glared at me. “What are your actual plans for Iris?” I couldn’t answer. Before, I thought the baby could be taken care of quietly, the wedding could go on, and Chloe would just accept it. Now, seeing those things laid out, it all felt like a joke. Robert sneered. “You always bragged about how logical you are. How did you fail to calculate the most basic consequences of your actions?”

Carter’s POV Chloe wasn’t hiding. She had simply erased me from her life. The Vance Foundation’s charity gala went on as scheduled. The flowers from our wedding had been repurposed into a stunning spring garden theme. Chloe stood at the entrance in a simple, elegant black gown, helping her mother greet the guests. She wore light makeup, her smile wasn’t overly bright, but she looked completely composed. That was the night I crashed. I didn’t have an invitation. The security guards stopped me at the door. My face burned with humiliation. “I’m Chloe Vance’s fiancé.” The guard’s voice was completely professional. “Your name is not on the list, sir.” Those words felt like a physical slap to my face. In the past, whenever I attended Vance family events, everyone treated me like the co-host. Chloe would always register my name in advance, have a driver waiting, and wave at me from across the crowd. Now, my name wasn’t even on the list. Liam walked out of the ballroom, his tuxedo jacket draped casually over his arm. His voice was flat. “Mr. Sterling, tonight is a charity event. Don’t make things difficult for the staff.” I glared at him. “What is that supposed to mean?” “I’m the co-host,” Liam said, showing his badge. “I have more right to stand here than you do.” Furious, I raised my hand to shove him. But a voice called out from behind him. “Carter.” Chloe walked over. She didn’t run, but her presence immediately made me freeze. “You’re finally willing to see me,” I said, holding back my anger. “Come home with me.” Chloe replied, “I’m not going back.” “Are you still throwing a tantrum?” My eyes were bloodshot. “Just because Iris is pregnant, you’re going to throw away all our years together?” “It’s not because she’s pregnant,” Chloe said, looking at me calmly. “It’s because you cheated, and then expected me to clean up your mess.” My breath hitched. People at the entrance were starting to look over. Victoria rushed over, sighing deeply. “Chloe, if you and Carter have a fight, do it in private. Why make a scene in front of everyone? This is very disrespectful to us elders.” Helen Vance walked out of the ballroom, her face incredibly cold. “Oh? My daughter was humiliated by your son and his mistress right before her wedding, and we haven’t even complained. Yet you’re the one who feels disrespected?” Victoria was completely silenced. Chloe handed me a jewelry box. “Your engagement necklace. It’s returned. The cancellation papers are inside too. Whether you sign them or not doesn’t change the outcome.” I didn’t take it. “I don’t agree to this.” Chloe placed the box into the hands of a nearby staff member. “Then my lawyer will handle it.” She turned and walked back inside. Liam didn’t follow her immediately. Instead, he looked at me. “She made herself clear. If you keep harassing her, you’ll only embarrass yourself.” I clenched my fists. For the first time, I felt like a massive iron door had shut between Chloe and me. Inside the hall, Chloe stood gracefully next to her mother. When some guests subtly brought up the wedding, she didn’t dodge the question. She just smiled and said, “If it’s not the right fit, it’s best to stop. Cutting losses early is better than dragging out a mistake.” When those words reached my ears, I was already being escorted out of the side door by security. Some business associates passed by. They initially wanted to say hello, but when they recognized me and Victoria, they quickly looked away. Victoria couldn’t stand the humiliation and muttered, “Look at her. She made us look so bad.” But I was only looking at Chloe through the glass. She was talking to a donor, looking elegant, her back straight. There was no crying, no emotional breakdown, no messy revenge. She wasn’t trying to humiliate me. She had just stopped covering for me.

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Chris and I used a CoupleStreak app to track our relationship. For 999 consecutive days, he sent me a “Goodnight” message every single day. He said it was our special ritual. Even when we fought, even when he went on business trips, and even when he didn’t finish his client dinners until three in the morning, he never missed a single day. Until last night, when the streak stopped at day 999. The app gave a cold notification: Your streak has been broken. Thinking something terrible had happened to him, I called him 108 times. When he finally picked up on the 108th call, his voice was raspy and exhausted. “Stop pressuring me, Chloe. I’m still at the hospital. Grace is having an episode.” Grace was his ex-girlfriend. She had gotten divorced just two weeks ago. I gripped my phone tightly, my heart sinking inch by inch. “So you forgot to say goodnight to me?” Chris paused, as if he had just realized it, and let out a soft, dismissive chuckle. “We’ve been together forever, babe. Are you seriously throwing a tantrum over something so petty?” But this “petty” thing was something he had built with his own hands when he was chasing me. He once told me that “goodnight” wasn’t just a word; it was his way of making sure I was the very last thought in his mind before he went to sleep. I stared at the broken number on my screen. Suddenly, I felt like our two and a half years together weren’t that long after all. It was long enough for him to form a habit, but short enough for him to completely forget about me the moment another woman needed him.

The harsh beep of the hung-up call cut through the freezing night wind. I stood outside the iron gates of Chris’s suburban mansion, dragging my heavy suitcase. The fingerprint lock on the front door flashed red, and a cold, robotic voice spoke. “Access expired. Please contact the homeowner.” I leaned against the icy iron bars, my stomach cramping violently from the ten-hour bus ride. Peeking out from the zipper of my backpack was a pink card. “Wishing Chloe a bright future and a happy marriage.” My school principal, Mr. Hudson, had personally handed that to me yesterday afternoon. Because Chris had told me to “stop worrying about petty things,” I had resigned from my tenured teaching job. On this exact day—our 1000th anniversary—I had completely abandoned my stable, quiet life to come to this unfamiliar city alone. This was supposed to be our first day ending our long-distance relationship. I crouched in the corner of the wall to block the wind, pressing my hands hard against my aching stomach. The physical pain dragged my memories back to two years ago. Back then, I was facing severe bullying at my workplace, and my anxiety was so bad that I couldn’t keep food down. But Chris would drive hours every single weekend, without fail, just to see me. He would cook my favorite pasta, sit in my tiny, cramped apartment, and gently coax me to take one bite at a time. He had promised me. “Chloe, as long as I’m here, you will never have to face the cold winter alone.” That was my saving grace, the very foundation of my courage to risk everything today. But now, the man who once used his own body heat to warm my hands had completely forgotten about me in this freezing wind, all because another woman was in a bad mood. At 5:00 AM, a familiar black Mercedes finally pulled into the driveway. The headlights pierced through the thick darkness. My stiff body struggled as I forced myself to stand up against the wall. My frozen facial muscles twitched, trying to force a smile I hadn’t used in hours. The passenger door opened first, and Chris rushed over. He leaned down and gently lifted Grace—who was lost in a deep depressive state—out of the car. Grace was incredibly thin, wrapped tightly in a thick, oversized cashmere coat. The hem of the coat dragged on the ground. It was Chris’s favorite coat. In past winters, whenever I came to visit him, he loved to unzip that very coat, pull me into his chest, and laughingly tell me it was my personal windproof tent. Now, someone else was in that tent. Chris lowered his voice, whispering sweet, comforting words into Grace’s ear. His entire focus was on the woman in his arms. He didn’t even spare a glance toward the shadow where I stood. It wasn’t until Grace half-opened her eyes and pointed toward the gate that Chris finally turned around. When he saw me, shivering and practically frozen solid, a flash of pure shock crossed his face. After settling Grace down, he slowly walked over to me. Across the iron gate, his voice was still that beautiful, gentle tone that I used to lose myself in. “Chloe? Why did you come all this way without telling me?” “You should have called first.” “Grace had a complete mental breakdown last night and had to take sleeping pills. She can’t handle any sudden shocks right now.” “Be a good girl.” “Keep your voice down, okay? Let’s get inside first.” He reached out, trying to grab my heavy backpack. When his fingers brushed against my icy hand, he froze for a split second. I looked at the deep concern in his eyes—all of which was reserved for Grace—and realized with absolute clarity. In this movie of three people, I had become the unwanted extra who was expected to be quiet and understanding. I pulled my hand back, avoiding his touch, and picked up the two heavy bags myself. “Okay. I won’t wake her.” I stepped into the house I once thought would be my home. Chris took Grace upstairs to the master bedroom. It was a long time before he finally came downstairs and poured me a glass of warm water. “I knew I could count on you to be reasonable, Chloe.” I held the warm glass, my eyes landing on his collar. There was a smudge of foundation on his shirt. It wasn’t my shade.

The next morning, I woke up in the guest room. After freezing outside all night, my throat was raw and painful. I got up early, habitually walking to the kitchen to make Chris’s favorite pancakes. As I passed the hallway on the second floor, I noticed the master bedroom door was ajar. Chris and Grace were sitting side-by-side on the wool rug by the balcony. Grace was clutching her head, her body trembling uncontrollably. Chris had his arm wrapped around her, gently rubbing her back. I stood there, silent. I quietly went back to the guest room and pulled out a card I had written on the bus last night. Happy 1000 Days, Dr. Blair! I’m finally here to be with you. The handwriting was bursting with the excitement I felt at the time. But now, I tore it into pieces and threw it into the trash can. At breakfast, Chris brought two plates out from the kitchen. With my throat burning, I instinctively reached for the plate with the light, clear chicken noodle soup. But Chris gently pressed his hand over mine, his eyes soft but firm. “Chloe, I made that specifically for Grace.” “Her stomach is really sensitive from her antidepressant medication. She can’t handle anything greasy.” He pushed the other plate, loaded with greasy bacon, toward me. “You used to love bacon. I went out of my way to order this delivery for you.” I stared at the plate of bacon dripping with oil. Just swallowing my own saliva felt like swallowing razor blades. My voice came out raspy and broken. “My stomach hurts too. I can’t eat greasy food today.” The moment those words left my mouth, Grace’s eyes welled up with tears. The fork slipped from her hand, clattering onto the table, and she began to shake. “I’m sorry…” “It’s all my fault. I’m even fighting you for a bowl of soup.” “I’m so useless. I should just die…” She covered her face and sobbed. Chris immediately rushed to her side, pulling her into his chest to comfort her. Once Grace’s breathing finally calmed down, Chris turned to look at me, letting out a heavy sigh. “Chloe, you’ve always loved greasy food.” “She has lost everything. She’s literally fighting for her life every day.” “You have a stable, great job, and you have my undivided love.” “Why do you have to pick a fight with a sick person over a simple bowl of soup?” With the gentlest tone, he ripped open my deepest wound. He had no idea that I didn’t have a stable job anymore. By noon, I developed a low-grade fever, and my throat was so swollen I could barely speak. Chris’s private dental clinic was located in the commercial district just outside our neighborhood. I decided to walk over to get some anti-inflammatory medicine from him. When I reached the clinic, I looked through the glass storefront. Chris was lying on the recliner next to the dental chair. He was holding Grace’s hand while the nurse administered a calming therapy session for her. Two receptionists at the front desk were whispering to each other. “Dr. Blair is so sweet to her.” “He canceled all of his afternoon appointments just to stay with her during therapy.” I stood in the drizzling rain, took a two-hour bus ride, and went to the run-down North End of the city—a place filled with sketchy, cheap apartments. I walked into a dingy little pharmacy, bought the cheapest fever reducers, and swallowed them with a bottle of water while standing in the cold wind. As the medicine started to kick in, I searched through the narrow alleys for an apartment, repeatedly checking the balance in my bank account. To be with Chris, I hadn’t just quit my job; I had spent almost all of my savings paying off the school’s contract termination penalty. Finally, I stopped in front of a dim, semi-basement apartment. The walls were peeling, and the place smelled heavily of mold. I told myself that this was where I would plant my new roots in a city that didn’t belong to me. I sat on a plastic chair in the rental office and signed the lease for the semi-basement. When I looked up, I saw a job posting tacked on the bulletin board. At that exact moment, the phone in my pocket vibrated. It was a voice note from Chris. “Chloe, I’m taking you out for French food tonight to celebrate our 1000 days.”

I put on my best white dress, applied some light makeup, and went to the dinner on time. It was a Michelin-starred French restaurant with an incredible view, overlooking the city’s sparkling skyline. Chris had booked half the restaurant, and a beautifully wrapped, expensive gift sat in the center of the table. He smiled, pulling out the chair for me. “I know you took your vacation days just to come see me for our 1000-day anniversary.” “I’m sorry I ignored you these past few days. Tonight is just for the two of us.” He elegantly picked up his knife and fork, cutting my steak into perfect, bite-sized pieces. His eyes were filled with so much love that even the violinist playing nearby looked at us with envy. This genuine affection was the hardest thing for me to fight against. It was a slow, blunt knife. Just as I picked up my fork, trying to accept his words as a final comfort, his phone rang. The moment he saw the caller ID, the smile vanished from his face. The panicked voice of Grace’s psychiatrist came through the speaker, so loud that even I could hear it. “Miss Grace just slit her wrists! She’s in the emergency room right now! Dr. Blair, you need to get here immediately!” The cutlery slipped from Chris’s hands, clattering loudly against the plate. His face turned deathly pale. He stood up instantly, grabbing his suit jacket from the back of the chair. He looked at me with guilt, but his eyes were filled with absolute determination. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. Her life is on the line. I have to go.” “Take an Uber back to the mansion. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” Before I could even speak, he had already stormed out of the restaurant. I sat quietly in the luxurious dining room, staring at the perfectly cut steak, and suddenly felt a wave of pure absurdity. If love only consists of “making things up to me,” how is that any different from charity? I didn’t go back to the mansion. In this city, twelve hundred miles away from my hometown, Chris only had to change the door code, and I would be homeless. The rain outside grew heavier, and not a single light in this massive city belonged to me. I tried calling Chris to tell him that my stomach was cramping so badly I couldn’t walk. He declined my call instantly, sending a cold text right after: I’m outside the ICU right now. It’s not convenient to talk. Be a good girl and go back home to teach your classes. Once I sort things out here, I’ll fly back to see you. I stared at the screen as a wave of acid surged up my throat. I crouched under the bus stop shelter, completely soaked by the pouring rain. That was the moment I finally understood. In his mind, he believed I always had a safe, cozy home to retreat to. Because of that, he assumed I would always be safe. And because of that, he felt entirely comfortable hurting me. In the middle of the night, I went back to the mansion. The house was dark and completely empty. Grace’s antidepressant bottles were still sitting right in the middle of the coffee table. I walked into the guest room and quietly packed my suitcase. I packed my clothes and the lesson plans I had left in the study. I cleaned up the room thoroughly, making sure not even a single strand of my hair was left in the bathroom. I never belonged to this house anyway. I came without a sound, and I left without a trace. Before leaving, I pushed open the master bedroom door and took one last look at the bed we used to share. I pulled a piece of paper from my bag. It was the copy of my resignation letter. I had planned to give it to him tonight, on our 1000th anniversary. I wanted to tell him: “Chris, for you, I have become a wanderer in this city.” But now, I slowly tore the paper into tiny shreds, walked to the bathroom, and flushed them down the toilet. He would never deserve to know this secret. The front door clicked shut. I dragged my suitcase out into the late autumn rain. At that moment, my phone lit up with a message from Chris: She’s out of danger. Take care of yourself at home. Don’t make me worry.

An hour before I left, there was actually a small confrontation. Just as I dragged my heavy bags to the foyer, the front door swung open. Chris had rushed back to grab some of Grace’s things, and we ran straight into each other. Seeing my bags on the floor, Chris pinched the bridge of his nose in exhaustion, though his voice remained gentle. “Chloe, didn’t we agree you would stop throwing tantrums?” “You’re a high school teacher. Can’t you be a little more mature?” “Grace is literally lying in the ICU, and you’re choosing this exact moment to play the runaway girlfriend?” Grace’s nanny, who was following behind him to grab her pajamas, gave me a contemptuous look. Chris stepped forward, placing his hand on my suitcase to stop me. “Fine. I know you still have a few days left of your vacation.” “You’re going back home, right?” “I’ll book you a first-class flight for tomorrow. Just stay at a hotel tonight, okay?” “Grace can’t handle any stress when she gets discharged, so she has to stay here for a while.” “Go back to your quiet little town, teach your classes, and once she’s fully recovered, I’ll come get you.” He took it for granted that Grace could occupy his house, and he took it for granted that he could discard me back to what he assumed was my safety zone. He was so certain that I couldn’t leave my job, so certain that I couldn’t survive in this massive city, that I would eventually crawl back to my comfort zone. I looked at the face of the man I had loved for three years, and the very last spark in my heart died out. I didn’t argue. I didn’t explain. I had no home left to go back to. In front of Chris, I pulled out my phone. I opened the CoupleStreak app that had witnessed our 1000 days. “Chris Blair,” I called him by his full name. “Thank you for taking care of me these past three years.” “But from now on, we don’t need to keep our streak anymore.” Under Chris’s shocked gaze, I decisively tapped “Delete and Terminate Relationship.” The app let out a cold chime: Relationship terminated. All records have been cleared. Chris’s face went completely pale, but he still thought this was just a high-level tantrum. “Are you crazy?” “A thousand days of memories, and you just deleted them like that?” “Do you really have to push me like this right now?” I gently pulled my hand out of his grip. There was no hatred in my eyes, only the complete indifference you’d show a stranger. “I’m not pushing you. I’m letting myself go.” “Grace needs you more. Take good care of her.” With that, I turned around, opened the door, and walked out. I slammed the heavy security door shut behind me, leaving it all in the cold autumn wind. Three hours later, at a run-down local community center in the far north of the city, I stood in my cheap sneakers with my hair tied back in a simple ponytail. I signed my employment contract with the community outreach program. My daily job would be walking through the alleys, handling trivial neighborhood issues. But the moment I wrote down my new address on the tax forms, I let out a long, deep sigh of relief. From that moment on, in this crowded metropolis of twenty million people, there was one less codependent girlfriend, and one more ordinary working woman named Chloe. And Chris was officially locked away in the grave of my past. During lunch break, I sat at the entrance of the alley, eating a warm bowl of street pasta. At the exact same time, Chris stared at the missing app on his phone, letting out a cold scoff as he muttered to himself: “Fine. Delete it. Let’s see how long she can hold out.”

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Harris gave me the silent treatment for seven whole days just because I carpooled with a male coworker on the way home. Late at night, I was alone in the ER, cold sweat dripping from the excruciating pain in my stomach. I called his number over and over again, but all I got was the despairing, automated voice: “The line is busy.” He was an incredibly cold and aloof man, with a borderline pathological possessiveness over me. During our five years of dating, he demanded that I delete all non-essential male contacts. I even had to report our professional conversations in my WhatsApp work groups to him. He always spoke in the most deeply affectionate tone, saying: “Chloe, I have a pure soul. I can’t stand even a speck of dust in our relationship. I want what we have to be absolutely pure.” To maintain this so-called purity, I turned my life into an isolated island. It wasn’t until I connected to the hospital Wi-Fi that I happened to scroll past a new post from a popular relationship influencer on Ins. [Thank you to my exclusive listener. Thirty consecutive nights of listening to me until dawn got me through my darkest hours.] In the long screenshot attached to the post, the phone number at the top wasn’t completely blurred out. It ended in ‘0921’—my birthday, and the exact custom number he insisted on using. I carefully compared the timestamps in the screenshot. Every single call took place late at night, exactly when Harris had shut me out, claiming he “needed independent space to think.” I quietly stared at those call durations—each lasting two to three hours. Suddenly, the physical pain in my body felt completely numb. I tapped the cancel call button. This sick, twisted version of purity? I didn’t want it anymore.

I ripped the medical tape off my arm and pulled out the IV needle. Pressing down on the bleeding vein, I dragged my aching body through the discharge process and left the hospital. The wind outside the hospital was freezing. I didn’t bother calling that busy number again. I just took an Uber straight home. When I pushed the front door open, Harris, who was supposed to be out “needing independent space,” was sitting right there on the living room sofa. The main lights in the living room were off. Under the dim glow of the wall sconce, his brows were knitted tightly. There wasn’t a single trace of worry on his face. “Where have you been?” He looked me up and down. “Did you go see that male coworker again?” “Chloe, I gave you the silent treatment so you could reflect on your lack of boundaries, not so you could retaliate against me.” I stood in the entryway, my underwear already soaked with cold sweat. I pulled out my phone, pulled up that poorly blurred screenshot, walked over, and tossed it onto the coffee table. “0921. Thirty late nights. So, your ‘space to think’ was spent being Sophie’s exclusive listener?” I thought he would panic, make up excuses, or frantically try to destroy the evidence. But he didn’t even change his posture. He glanced down at the screen, sighed, and turned his head away. “Chloe, you spied on me. To look at me with such vulgar, dirty eyes… I’m so disappointed in you.” A sharp cramp in my stomach forced me to double over. I let out a cold laugh. “I’m dirty? You shut me out for seven days, spending hours on the phone with another woman every single night.” “And now you’re blaming me for not being noble enough?” Harris stood up, walked over to me, and towered over me. “Sophie has severe depression.” “As her former classmate, I am simply saving a life. It’s an act of charity.” “What we discuss is the meaning of life and the struggles of the soul. It has nothing to do with anything else.” He raised his chin slightly and spoke. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you were narrow-minded and couldn’t understand this kind of gender-transcending spiritual salvation.” “But I never expected you to stoop so low as to monitor me. You’ve stained the absolute purity between us.” With that, he snatched my phone and shoved it into his pocket. “Confiscated for three days. Stay home, rest, and reflect.” “When you’ve washed the jealousy out of your brain, then you can go out.” He turned to leave. I reached out to grab my phone back. In our struggle, he grabbed my wrist. The moment he felt my cold sweat and saw the ER discharge papers slipping out of my bag, his movements froze. He snatched the papers. When he saw the words “acute gastric spasms,” his eyes instantly turned red. Dropping the phone, he threw his arms around me, holding me so tightly my ribs ached. “You went to the hospital? Why didn’t you tell me!” “Chloe, I won’t allow you to have a single scratch on you! You can only stay within my sight, do you hear me!” His voice was trembling, his whole body shaking, as if the cold, accusing man from a second ago had never existed. Leaning against his chest, my defensive walls wavered slightly. He had always been like this during our five years of dating. He cut off all my connections with the outside world, yet showered me with intense, suffocating affection. Maybe he really was just trying to save a life. Maybe I really was being narrow-minded. I was so starved for love that I had to rely on his borderline pathological possessiveness to convince myself I was loved. Harris carried me to the bedroom, tucked me into bed, rolled up his sleeves, and went to the kitchen to cook my favorite pasta. He blew on the pasta to cool it down and brought it to my lips. “Good girl, take another bite. You’re never allowed to run off on your own again.” “If you feel sick, tell me immediately. I’m your man.” I mechanically swallowed the warm pasta. Watching his attentive movements, my tense emotions eased a little. Right then, his private phone on the coffee table lit up and buzzed twice. A short text popped up on the lock screen: [The weather is beautiful today, but I can’t see the light. Not without you.] The pasta in my throat instantly turned into a wave of nauseating disgust.

I stared at the screen until it went dark again. My hands and feet grew ice-cold. I forced the rising bile back down and remained silent. The next morning, after Harris left, I forced my aching body out of bed, got dressed, and put on some makeup. Today was an incredibly important, closed-door VC pitch event. To secure a face-to-face interview with the managing partners of a top venture capital firm, I had worked sleeplessly for three months. In this city, which was completely controlled by Harris, this was my only chance to break free. When I arrived at the venue, I found an empty seat in the back row and waited for the presentation to start. The stage lights went up, and the host introduced the guest speaker. “Next, let’s welcome the relationship influencer with millions of followers, Sophie, to share her journey of spiritual rebuilding.” My hands clenched the fabric of my skirt. On stage, Sophie was wearing a simple, elegant dress, speaking into the microphone. As she talked about how her “soulmate” had dragged her out of the abyss of depression, my grip on my portfolio tightened. Then, Harris, a man who had always despised public events, actually walked onto the stage as a surprise guest. Under the gaze of the entire audience, he sat down next to Sophie. They didn’t even need any polite introduction. With just a single glance from Harris, Sophie seamlessly picked up the deep psychological discussion. Their chemistry was flawless. The industry big shots in the audience nodded in approval. Sitting in the corner, I stared at my fiancé—the man who claimed he only wanted absolute purity with me. On that stage, he freely poured his warmth onto another woman. This kind of spiritual betrayal was far more agonizing than physical cheating. As soon as the networking session began, I forced myself to look away from the stage. I stood up to find the investors and present my business proposal. The lead investor showed great interest and spoke with me. I responded politely and professionally. Suddenly, I felt a burning gaze on my back. I turned around. Harris had stopped talking on stage and was staring dead at me. During the mid-session break, the moment I walked into the backstage corridor, someone grabbed my arm and dragged me into a utility closet. Harris pinned me against the wall, locked the door, and pinched my chin, his voice dangerously low. “I told you yesterday to stay home and rest. Did my words go in one ear and out the other?” “And you dare to smile so flirtatiously at another man right in front of my face?” “Chloe, have you completely forgotten my rules?” A wave of humiliation rushed over me. I slapped his hand away. “I was doing my job! He is the lead investor!” “Job?” Harris sneered. “Do you even need a job?” “My credit card has no limit. Do you really need to go and sell smiles to those disgusting men?” I trembled with rage, pointing at the door and yelling, “I’m not allowed to smile at investors, but what about you?” “What you and Sophie did on stage—that ‘soul connection’—what is that? Spiritual cheating?” His face went completely cold, his eyes filled with disapproval. “Chloe, that is spiritual salvation.” “Sophie needs my validation to recover.” “To twist our relationship with your low-class jealousy only makes you look completely unreasonable.” With that, he flung the door open and left. I leaned against the wall, gasping for air. A few minutes later, I walked back toward the main hall. Just as I reached the entrance, I heard him speaking to the lead investor. “Mr. Vance, there is a serious issue with Chloe’s proposal.” “She is my fiancée, and her health has been very poor. Her mental state is unstable, and I don’t want her to overwork herself. She is pulling out of this project.” Mr. Vance looked disappointed. “But Chloe’s proposal is brilliant. A sudden replacement…” “There’s no need to worry,” Harris’s tone left no room for argument. “I highly recommend Sophie to take over as the chief consultant for this project.” “Her insight into human nature is a hundred times more profound than Chloe’s.” “If you agree, Harris Group is willing to inject an additional twenty million dollars into this funding round.” Standing outside the door, I felt my chest tighten. Three months of my blood, sweat, and tears—gone. Just for his so-called purity, he had personally crushed my last piece of career hope. Inside, Mr. Vance gave a compromising laugh. “Well, since you put it that way, Mr. Harris, we will go with your recommendation, Sophie.” “As for Chloe, I’ll have my assistant send her the rejection letter.” I turned around and walked out of the building with heavy steps.

Back in the luxury villa he had built for me, I looked up. In the living room, the hallways, the study, and even the corner of the dining room—little red lights were blinking. He used to tell me that the security cameras were there because he worried about me being home alone. He said it was for my safety. But standing under those red lights now, I was entirely sober. I wasn’t a protected lover. I was just a caged pet. Sophie was the partner who could actually stand by his side. At ten o’clock that night, he came home, acting as if nothing had happened, completely ignoring our daytime fight. He walked over to the sofa and pulled out a velvet box. Inside lay a stunning sapphire necklace. He stepped behind me, draped the heavy necklace around my neck, and fastened the clasp. He hugged me from behind, burying his face in my hair. “Chloe, the outside world is too dirty. The corporate world is full of schemes.” “You can’t handle them. Just stay home safely. I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.” He was always like this—cutting off my escape routes, then wrapping his control in a layer of excuses called protection. Looking at our reflection in the dark window, I didn’t scream, and I didn’t question him. I placed my hands over his around my waist, and nodded obediently. “Okay.” He relaxed instantly and kissed my cheek. The next morning, the moment he walked out the door, I quickly hid in the camera’s blind spot—the corner of the basement walk-in closet. I opened an old laptop, connected to a burner hotspot, and logged into my backup email. [Dear Ms. Chloe, congratulations. You have successfully passed the final background check at our global headquarters.] [Your official appointment letter as the Vice President of the APAC region has been issued. Please confirm your start date.] In truth, I had already figured out that in this city, no matter how hard I struggled, I could never escape the reach of Harris Group. The three-month pitch event was just a smokescreen. My real trump card was this position at a rival global firm. I typed in a few words: [I will depart in three days.] Just as I closed the laptop, a friend request popped up on my Snapchat: [Hi Chloe, this is Sophie.] I accepted. She didn’t send any direct, petty insults. Instead, her words were dripping with false sympathy. [Chloe, Harris told me that you’ve been in a terrible mental state since losing your project. He says you’re too dependent on him, and it’s putting a lot of pressure on him.] [He asked me to talk to you when I have time. You really need to learn how to stand on your own two feet.] Then, she sent two photos. The first was a snowy mountain peak at 4 AM. Harris and Sophie were sitting side by side, watching the sunrise. The second was a dimly lit underground bar. Harris was sitting in a dark corner, his eyes fixed on Sophie dancing on stage. The timestamps on those photos were all during the dates he claimed he was away on “crucial business trips.” Staring at the bar photo, memories from two years ago flooded my mind. When I was first diagnosed with mild depression, the doctor suggested I spend more time in lively places. I had begged Harris to take me to an outdoor music festival. But he had frowned, his face full of disgust as he refused. “Chloe, I can’t stand those dirty, noisy places where the air is thick with other people’s sweat.” “Making a request like this only makes me feel like your taste is degenerating.” That night, because I had stood near the entrance of the festival venue for a few minutes, he made me scrub my skin with disinfectant soap three times until my skin was raw and bleeding. Those were his rules. He used rigidity and suppression to lock me up, yet he broke every single one of his boundaries for Sophie. The double standard was sickening. Calmly, I saved the photos and opened an encrypted folder titled “Financial Audit.” Inside were the highly suspicious offshore transactions I had signed on his behalf over the past three years as his fiancée. I packaged all the files and set an auto-send timer. That evening, Harris arrived home with a team of personal stylists. He loudly announced to the media that he was hosting a grand gala for me in three days. “Chloe, I want to declare my love for you to the entire world. A love that is absolutely pure.” He squeezed my hand, his face full of deep affection. I curled my lips into a smile. “Okay. I can’t wait.”

Three days later, the luxury yacht was anchored in deep waters. The entire deck was decorated in pure white. White roses paired with a white carpet. I was forced to wear a white gown of his choosing, led by his hand to the center of the deck under the gaze of hundreds of wealthy guests. “Mr. Harris really went all out for Ms. Chloe. This party is absolutely stunning.” “Chloe is so lucky. To be loved by a man like Harris, what more could she possibly want?” “Exactly. What more does a woman need than a man whose eyes are only on her?” The guests whispered among themselves, holding champagne flutes. I listened blankly, offering no response. He walked up to the microphone. “Five years ago, I met Chloe.” “I said back then, my world cannot tolerate a single speck of dust.” “Thank you, Chloe, for your five years of devotion, keeping our love entirely spotless.” The crowd erupted into thunderous applause. Looking at his face made me want to throw up. Harris dropped to one knee and pulled out a massive diamond ring. “Chloe, marry me.” The crowd cheered, and camera flashes blinded my eyes. Right at that moment, a vibration came from inside his suit jacket. I heard it loud and clear. His hand holding the ring froze in mid-air, his eyes flickering. In front of hundreds of people, he actually pulled back the ring and reached for his private phone. On the screen was Sophie’s latest Instagram update. It was a photo of the deep ocean, with one of her feet dangling off a bridge. The caption read: [The listener is gone. My soul is too heavy, dragging me down into the deep.] [Harris, be happy. It’s time for me to sleep forever.] The affection on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a deadly pale horror. “Sophie…” He forgot he was holding a wedding ring and bolted upright. The force of his sudden movement pushed me back, causing me to stumble. The diamond ring slipped from his fingers, rolling into a dark corner of the deck. The entire deck fell into dead silence. Everyone was utterly stunned by his sudden loss of control. Ignoring the crowd of high-society guests, he pressed his earpiece and roared toward the captain’s cabin: “Lower the speedboats! Turn the yacht around at full speed!” “Now! Send people to the harbor bridge immediately!” After screaming into the mic, he turned to sprint toward the boarding gate. As he passed me, he stopped. His eyes were bloodshot, filled with rage. He gritted his teeth and warned me: “Wait for me here.” “If anything happens to Sophie today because of your jealousy…” “Chloe, I will never forgive you for that cold, heartless look in your eyes!” Not only did he abandon me in front of the entire city’s elite, but he also pinned the blame entirely on me. He jumped onto a speedboat and sped off without looking back, leaving the yacht rocking violently in the open sea. The wind on the deck was harsh. The stares of the guests pierced through me, a mix of pity and mocking whispers filling the air. Staring at the corner where the diamond ring had rolled, I actually laughed out loud. Under everyone’s bewildered gazes, I walked over and gave the ring a sharp kick. The multi-million dollar ring splashed into the dark ocean. His fake, hypocritical love sank straight to the bottom. I opened my clutch, pulled out my global VP appointment letter, and retrieved a tablet loaded with Harris Group’s tax evasion and financial fraud files. Dragging my white train behind me, I walked steadily onto the main stage where he had just stood. I grabbed the microphone, facing the crowd, and raised the documents high.

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I have a strange, terrifying ability. Whenever my younger sister, Chloe, steals something from me, I get a brief, vivid glimpse of her future in my dreams—a future she builds using the very thing she took from me. When we were kids, she stole my piano. In my dream, I saw her taking a bow on a grand stage at Carnegie Hall ten years later. In middle school, she stole my spot in the National Math Olympiad. In my dream, I saw her holding a first-place trophy, getting accepted into the elite private academy I had dreamed of attending. And last night, the eve of the SAT, she stole my admission ticket and my ID card. This time, the future I saw in my dream wasn’t hers. It was mine. There were no applause, no trophies, no flowers. I was standing on the rooftop of a hospital, clutching a crumpled, ruined medical waiver explaining my absence from the exam. Down on the street below, my parents were holding a sobbing, trembling Chloe. My older brother, Ethan, looked up at me and screamed, “Serena, are you really not satisfied until you’ve driven Chloe to suicide?” The wind was howling. I saw the future version of myself smile. And then, I jumped. 1 When I woke up, Chloe was sitting at my desk. Seeing my eyes open, she flashed me a sweet, innocent smile. “Serena, can you do me a favor and skip the exam tomorrow?” Her eyes were red and puffy. “Mom saw a spiritual reader today. She said that if you take the SAT in the same room as me tomorrow, you’ll suck away all my good energy.” I let out a cold laugh. Always the same excuse. Since we were kids, everyone in the family treated Chloe like our personal golden child. The day she was born, my dad’s failing business suddenly secured a massive, life-saving contract. My grandmother had held the crying baby Chloe and declared that she was the angel who saved the Miller family. Meanwhile, because of a complication during my birth, I barely survived. My grandmother always said I was born under a bad star, a curse brought to drain the family’s wealth. When I was six, I won first place in a state piano competition. On the way home, Ethan fell and broke his leg. My mother, holding a crying Chloe, looked at me with cold eyes and said for the first time, “Serena, stop trying to stand out so much. Every time you shine, bad things happen to this family.” Since then, whenever I did slightly better than Chloe, someone in the house would suffer an “accident.” Eventually, I stopped bringing my report cards and certificates home altogether. I held out my hand. “Give me back my SAT ticket and ID.” Chloe instantly flinched, pulling her hands back. Just then, the door pushed open. My mom walked in, holding a warm mug of milk. Seeing me awake, she handed it to me. “Drink this, Serena. Go to sleep early.” My throat tightened. But just as I took the mug, she pulled a folded sheet of paper from her apron pocket. “Your dad and I talked. Tomorrow morning, you’re not going to the first section of the exam.” I looked down at the paper. Family Agreement: 1. Serena Miller shall not approach Chloe Miller before entering the test center. 2. Serena Miller shall not ride in the same car as Chloe Miller to the exam. 3. Serena Miller shall not touch Chloe Miller’s testing supplies. 4. If Chloe Miller experiences severe anxiety, Serena Miller agrees to voluntarily delay her entry to the exam hall. My name was already printed at the bottom. All that was missing was my signature. The warm milk suddenly felt scalding in my hands. “What do you mean, voluntarily?” My mom avoided my eyes. “Serena, I know you feel wronged, but your sister is different. She gets so anxious she can barely breathe. Your grades are always stable. Skipping one section won’t kill you.” My dad walked in next, holding a pen and a manila folder. Seeing that folder, my heart sank. Inside wasn’t just my SAT ticket. It was the registration form for a local community college. My dad placed it on the desk. “We’ve already figured out a backup plan for you. You can take a gap year and try again next year.” I stared up at him. “Tomorrow is the SAT. Chloe needs her future, but I don’t?” My dad’s face hardened instantly. “Serena, you’re getting more and more selfish. Chloe has been fragile since she was a baby. Can’t you just let her win for once? Do you really want to see her collapse at the test center before you’re satisfied?” Chloe’s tears started flowing right on cue. “Dad, forget it. I won’t take the test. Serena always thinks I’m stealing things from her. I don’t want to owe her anything.” My mom looked panicked. “Don’t talk like that, sweetie!” Ethan pushed the door open, his face twisted in annoyance. “Serena, are you seriously throwing a tantrum right now? The whole house has been walking on eggshells around you all night. What more do you want?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Walking on eggshells around me?” He pointed at the agreement on the desk. “As long as you sign this and sit out the first section, nobody is going to make your life hard.” 2 I lunged forward to grab the manila folder. My dad slammed his hand down, pinning my wrist to the desk. “I’ll keep your documents safe tonight.” Before I could react, Ethan grabbed me from behind, pinning my shoulders. My dad snatched my ID and ticket. I struggled with everything I had. In the scuffle, the mug of milk tipped over, splashing across the desk. My mom’s first reaction was to pull Chloe back, shielding her. “Your sister has an exam tomorrow! Do you have to ruin this home before you’re happy?” My dad forced my thumb into the ink pad and slammed it onto the signature line of the agreement. He let go of me, looking like a man who had finally solved a tedious chore. My mom carefully folded the paper and slid it into the folder. Then, she picked up my clear plastic testing bag, peeling my name label off of it. She replaced it with a handwritten sticky note: Chloe’s Spare Supplies. I stared at those words, my hands trembling violently. Chloe took the bag and whispered, “Thank you.” I saw her fingertips resting directly on the photo of my ID card inside the folder. The next second, my vision went black. The dream came again. Serena Miller: Absent for Section

And next to it, a note from the test center coordinator: Reason: Candidate experienced a mental breakdown prior to the exam. Family requested a voluntary withdrawal. I snapped back to reality, gasping for air. Once they all left my room, whispering sweet comfort to Chloe, I turned on my old backup phone and made a call. By dinner time, the house was packed with relatives. Chloe sat in the center of the sofa. My mom had draped a bright red cardigan over her shoulders, claiming red was Chloe’s lucky color. The relatives crowded around, showering her with blessings and gifts. I was relegated to the dining table, tasked with writing “good luck cards” to hand out to the guests. My mom shoved a gold marker into my hand. “Make sure your handwriting is neat. Don’t embarrass us in front of the family.” I picked up a blank card. When I flipped it over, my fingers froze. The back of the card was a piece of my elementary school state piano championship certificate. I could still read the chopped-up text on the back: Serena Miller, First Place. I flipped through the rest of the cards. My piano certificates, my math olympiad honors, my middle school debate trophies—all of them had been cut up into palm-sized squares. These were the awards I had hidden away in my closet for years, too afraid to show my parents because they would accuse me of “stealing Chloe’s spotlight.” “Who went through my room?” my voice shook. The living room fell dead silent. My mom frowned. “They’re just old pieces of paper, Serena. Are you really going to make a scene over this?” Chloe’s eyes welled up with tears instantly. “Serena, I didn’t know they were yours. Mom just said you used to win a lot of things, and I wanted to carry a piece of your luck with me tomorrow.” Clara smiled and chimed in, “Oh, Serena, your sister is taking the SAT tomorrow. What’s wrong with giving her some of your luck?” I squeezed the shredded certificate in my fist. “This is mine.” Ethan sneered from the couch. “Yours? Every time you brought those stupid trophies home, Chloe ended up sick. You’ve held her down for years. What’s wrong with giving some of that luck back to her now?” My dad slammed his glass onto the table. “Serena, tonight is about bringing blessings to Chloe, not for you to settle old scores. If you’re going to keep acting like a victim, get the hell out of the living room. Don’t ruin your sister’s mood.” My mom snatched the shredded pieces of my certificates from my hands and stuffed them into Chloe’s purse. Chloe whispered, “Mom, will Serena be mad at me?” My mom stroked her hair. “She’ll just have to deal with it. She’s always had everything easier than you. She can handle one night of discomfort.” The relatives began writing their wishes on my ruined certificates. “Chloe will get a perfect score!” “Our golden girl will shine!” “Serena, make sure you don’t steal Chloe’s spotlight tomorrow.” The room erupted into laughter. 3 I sat at the table like a servant, handing out the cards. By the end, only one tiny scrap of paper was left. It was the piece with my name on it: Serena. As I reached for it, Chloe spoke up. “Serena, can I have that one too? I want to keep it in my pencil case.” I didn’t let go. Her tears fell immediately. “Fine, I don’t want it. Serena always thinks I’m taking things from her anyway.” My mom’s expression hardened. “Serena, do you really have to humiliate her in front of everyone?” I let out a hollow laugh. “Humiliate her? I’m the one being humiliated here.” My dad stood up abruptly, pointing a finger at me. “You think you’re the victim? Your sister has her future on the line tomorrow, and you’re throwing tantrums in front of our guests!” My mom shoved the gold marker back into my hand. “Write.” “Write what?” I asked, my voice cracking. She stared at me, her words cold and deliberate. “Write: I wish Chloe good luck.” I refused to move. Ethan walked over, grabbed my hand, and physically forced my fingers to drag the pen across the back of my ruined certificate. The gold ink dragged jaggedly across the paper. I wish Chloe a successful exam. The moment it was done, Chloe snatched it up and carefully slipped it into her pencil case. She finally smiled. “Thanks, Serena.” After the relatives left, the living room was a mess of torn red paper and trash. I went back to my room to grab my backup phone. I wanted to take photos of the shredded certificates and the forced agreement. But the moment I opened my phone, Chloe stormed in. She deliberately tripped over the desk chair, falling to the floor and sobbing hysterically. Ethan saw the phone in my hand, and his face darkened instantly. “You’re trying to take videos to post online? Serena, are you seriously trying to ruin this family’s reputation just to hurt Chloe?” Before I could speak, my dad grabbed my phone and spun the screen toward me. A video was already playing on a family group chat. In the video, I was reaching for my testing bag, and Chloe was shrinking back, falling to the ground and crying. The angle made it look like I had shoved her. Below the video was a message my mom had sent to my high school counselor, Mrs. Davis. “Mrs. Davis, Serena’s mental state is very unstable tonight.” “She has a history of extreme hostility and jealousy toward Chloe.” “If she acts out or becomes emotional at the test center tomorrow, please make sure the security staff restrains her so she doesn’t ruin Chloe’s exam.” Mrs. Davis replied: “Understood.” My ears buzzed. My dad swiped to another photo. It was the forced agreement with my thumbprint on it. “It’s written in black and white. You voluntarily signed this to delay your entry. You did this to yourself.” I lunged to grab his phone. Ethan grabbed my wrist and shoved me hard. My back slammed into the sharp corner of the wall. Pain flared through my spine, making my vision go dark. My mom saw it, but she only muttered, “Careful, Ethan. Don’t let Chloe see any blood. She has to focus tomorrow.” Chloe huddled in my mom’s arms, sobbing. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you, Serena. I was just scared nobody would believe me tomorrow.” My dad’s voice was ice. “Look at what you’ve driven her to.” He took my backup phone and used my face to unlock it. Right in front of me, he deleted every photo I had taken, and emptied the recently deleted folder. I screamed, “You have no right to delete my things!” My dad raised his hand and slapped me across the face. The room fell dead silent. He stared down at me, without a single shred of regret in his eyes. “I’m your father. I have every right. I won’t let you ruin your sister’s entire life.” My ears were ringing. My mom guided Chloe out of the room. She paused by the door, looking back at me. “Serena, I think I spoiled you too much. It made you think this family owes you everything.” They pushed me into the study room and locked the door from the outside. The room went pitch black. My phone was gone. My SAT ticket was gone. My ID was gone. I didn’t even have a piece of paper. I ransacked the dark bookshelves until I found an old dictionary. Tucked behind it was a nearly dried-up black pen. Without paper, I rolled up my sleeve and began frantically writing my student ID, my SAT registration number, and my test center details directly onto the inside of my forearm. As I wrote the final digit, I heard my mom’s voice outside, comforting Chloe. “It’s okay, baby. Serena is locked in. She won’t be able to get in your way tomorrow.” 4 On the morning of the SAT, it was pouring rain. My dad drove us to the test center. Chloe sat in the middle of the back seat, clutching two clear testing bags. One was hers. The other was mine. I sat pressed against the door, holding nothing but the dried-up pen from the night before. Ethan looked back from the passenger seat, his eyes warning me. “You better behave when we get there. If you make a scene, don’t think I won’t drag you back to the car in front of everyone.” When the car pulled up to the curb, there were only twenty-three minutes left before the gates closed. I held out my hand. “Give me my ticket and ID.” Chloe instantly clutched her chest. “Dad, I’m scared. My chest hurts.” My mom panicked. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Are you okay?” Chloe stared at the folder in my dad’s lap. “Can I please hold Serena’s ticket and ID? I won’t do anything to them. I just want to keep them under my desk. Knowing I have her things makes me feel safe. It calms my anxiety.” I raised my voice. “If she takes them, how am I supposed to get in?” My mom whipped around, glaring at me. “You weren’t supposed to take the first section anyway! You signed the agreement last night. Stop acting like you don’t know.” I met her gaze. “You forced my hand down to print that.” Ethan sneered. “Who saw that? You were the one acting crazy.” My dad pulled my SAT ticket and ID from the folder and slid them into Chloe’s bag. “Chloe, go inside first.” I lunged across the seat to grab them, but Ethan locked his arms around me, pinning me down. By the time Ethan finally let go, Chloe was already walking through the gates of the test center. My dad handed me the empty manila folder. “Go wait under the awning. Once the first section is over, I’ll get your ticket back from Chloe, and you can take the rest of the test.” He paused, refusing to look me in the eye. “This is for the good of the family.” My mom’s eyes were red as she added, “Serena, don’t push me. Chloe finally made it inside. Can’t you just let her finish one test in peace?” I didn’t say another word. I opened the door, stepped into the pouring rain, and ran straight toward the emergency registration desk. The test administrator listened to my story, her expression turning from confusion to alarm. “Your sister took your admission ticket and ID into the secure testing zone?” I rolled up my sleeve, revealing the ink numbers partially smudged by the rain. “My name is Serena Miller. I need a temporary identity verification.” The administrator opened her system. But the moment she pulled up my registration, her eyebrows knit together. “Wait, there’s a flag on your account.” The school counselor standing nearby leaned over to look, her face dropping. “Parental Flag: Candidate experiencing severe pre-test emotional instability. Family requests holding entry for Section 1.” Just then, Mrs. Davis, my high school counselor, ran over with an umbrella. “Serena, calm down. Your mother called me last night to explain your situation.” I looked Mrs. Davis dead in the eye. “Mrs. Davis, I am perfectly calm. My sister stole my ID and ticket, and my parents held me in the car to make sure I missed the first section.” My dad rushed over, slamming his hand onto the registration counter. “Don’t let her in! Her sister is already inside. If Serena goes in now and demands her ticket back, it will ruin the exam for both of them!” My mom followed, crying as she begged me, “Serena, please, just skip the first section. You’re smart. You can make up the score later. If Chloe collapses because of you, her life is over!” The speakers blared: “One minute until doors close. All remaining candidates please enter immediately.” The printer at the desk buzzed, spitting out a temporary admission slip. My dad slammed his hand over the paper. “Do not give it to her.” “I am her legal guardian, and I do not consent to her entering this building.” My mom grabbed my arm from behind, pulling me back with all her strength, sobbing hysterically. “Serena, I’m begging you! Just this once!” Ethan stepped in front of me, his voice a low, threatening hiss. “Serena, if you walk through those doors today, don’t ever call me your brother again.” Rainwater dripped from my eyelashes. I stared at the temporary slip of paper just inches away under my dad’s hand. I clenched my fists. Suddenly, a cold, commanding voice cut through the rain. “Let go of her!” Everyone froze. A middle-aged man in a dark trench coat walked over, flanked by two security guards. He glanced at my mom’s grip on my arm, then at my dad’s hand pinning my admission slip. “Who gave you permission to block a registered candidate from entering an exam?”

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