Author: Momo Chan

1 “This woman is bleeding out after childbirth. Isn’t her husband supposed to be watching her? Where is he?” I was about to make an excuse for my husband, Robert, to say he was a doctor and had an emergency at the hospital he couldn’t get away from. Just then, I received a wedding photo from Robert’s best friend, Anna. “Thanks for lending me Robert, sis-in-law,” the text read. “I had a great 30th birthday. Don’t worry, we won’t be consummating the marriage, lol.” In the photo, Robert was kissing Anna’s cheek. Their entire circle of friends surrounded them, their faces beaming with happiness. Meanwhile, I was hemorrhaging so severely that I needed a family member’s signature for emergency surgery, but Robert was unreachable. When I finally managed to get through to him, his only words were, “The baby’s already born. Can’t you just give me a break?” “It’s Anna’s 30th birthday. It’s important. Everyone is here; I can’t leave.” “I promised her I’d be with her for her 30th.” “Why do you have to be such a buzzkill?” Right before I lost consciousness, Anna sent another photo. It was a picture of a large bed. Robert and she were lying on it, surrounded by their friends, who were raucously celebrating their “wedding night.” …“Oxygen levels are dropping. The patient is showing signs of shock. Get blood from another hospital’s bank, now! Notify all specialists to report to the OR immediately!” The hospital’s emergency code, “999,” blared through the halls. Doctors and nurses rushed into my room. I could feel my life slipping away, my body so light it felt like it could float off the bed at any moment. Through the haze, I could hear a nurse’s gentle voice. “You have to fight. Your baby was just born. He’s in the incubator. You haven’t even held him yet.” “Don’t give up on yourself. Please, don’t give up. We’re doing everything we can to save you.” Her voice was urgent, laced with a choked sob. I had no strength to respond, but my mind kept repeating, That’s right, I have my baby. I can’t die, I can’t… The hospital was pulling out all the stops, gathering the city’s top OB-GYN specialists for an emergency consultation, rapidly sourcing blood from every available bank. “We still can’t reach the patient’s family. What do we do?” “What is her husband doing at a time like this? His phone is off?” “The patient’s… parents passed away a few years ago. She only has her husband. If we have to, we’ll proceed with the surgery. The patient’s life is the priority.” The voices around me faded in and out. The silence was terrifying. Are they going to give up on me? Am I going to die on this operating table? Will I ever see my child? No, I can’t die. Robert won’t take care of my baby. If I die, my child’s life will be ruined. I wished I could just be well again. But all I heard were the frantic shouts of the medical staff. “Where is that blood? The patient is fading!” “Have you contacted Dr. Robert from Central Hospital? He’s the top authority in OB-GYN. With him here, the success rate would be much higher.” Dr. Robert? I wanted so badly to speak. To tell them that Dr. Robert, my Robert, was the husband they couldn’t reach. But I had no chance. Someone said with a sigh, “Dr. Robert probably won’t come. He took a special seven-day leave. Said he was getting married to his childhood friend and going on a honeymoon.” “I thought Dr. Robert was going to be a bachelor forever. Whenever we asked if he was married or dating, he always said he didn’t need to. Turns out he was in love with his best friend all along.” So, he had never told his colleagues he was married. No wonder he never let me go to his hospital for my check-ups. He said it would be an inconvenience for his coworkers, but the truth was he didn’t want them to know he had a wife of seven years. “Forget Dr. Robert. He’s probably celebrating his wedding night right now. Let’s just focus on saving this patient!” Their words were so clear, yet I couldn’t react. The anesthesia seemed to dull the pain but didn’t put me completely under. It was torture. I could feel the cold steel of their instruments, sense their tension, and feel the creeping cold in my own body. Just when I thought I was done for, the head nurse shouted, “Dr. Robert answered his phone!” 2 But the voice on the other end of the line wasn’t Robert’s. It was Anna’s. Her voice grated on my nerves, making the already ineffective anesthesia even more useless. I could feel my chest heaving, the pain unbearable. “Robert, you should thank me. If I hadn’t made you keep your work phone on, you would have missed this call.” “Yeah, yeah,” Robert’s voice was full of affection. “You’re the best, the smartest.” When he took the phone, his tone became serious. “I saw the patient’s chart you sent over. With her rare blood type and gestational hypertension, it’s a very difficult case. You need to contact the family as soon as possible and get their consent.” “Dr. Robert, we can’t reach her family. We’ve been trying, but his phone is off.” Robert sounded angry. “His wife is giving birth, and he won’t even answer his phone? What kind of animal is he?” “Dr. Robert, can you come over now?” Anna’s complaining voice drifted through the phone. “Go on then… Just leave me here to celebrate my birthday all by myself.” “No way, I’m not going.” After comforting her, Robert spoke into the phone again. “I’m sorry, I can’t make it. We’re about to board a flight for a little getaway. I can connect you with someone else, though.” Then he hung up, as if afraid they would try to persuade him further. And that’s when I realized he had a separate work phone, a phone I had never even seen. A nurse standing beside me, monitoring my vitals, murmured, “For a second there, when Dr. Robert was talking, I thought it was this patient’s husband. Their voices are identical.” “Don’t be ridiculous. His wife was right there with him, you heard her.” At that moment, the blood from the other hospitals arrived. Along with the plasma came another doctor. I heard a chorus of excited voices calling him “Professor.” He immediately had the anesthesiologist check my dosage and increase it. I drifted into a deep sleep and endured a long, life-saving surgery. When I woke up, a nursing intern was sitting by my bed, recording my vitals. When she saw my eyes open, she immediately called in a team of doctors and nurses. “Are you feeling any discomfort?” I shook my head. The lead doctor examined my incision and my chart, then looked at me. “Chloe Shaw, how long has it been since you graduated? Have you forgotten everything you learned?” I looked up at him closely. It was Aaron, the senior student who had supervised our lab work back in grad school. He seemed even more serious than I remembered. He studied me for a moment. “Your husband just sent a message to your phone. Do you want me to open it for you?” I managed a weak nod. He unlocked my phone with my face ID, and a notification popped up instantly. It was a charge alert from my bank account. A nineteen-thousand-dollar expense at a seaside resort for a honeymoon package. Then, a message from Robert. “On a business trip. Be back in a week. Sorry, babe, just been so busy.” But right after he sent that, a message from Anna came through. [Sis-in-law, this ocean-view room is gorgeous! I had to share it with you.] The accompanying photo was of her and Robert in a bathtub, looking out at the sea. There were even hickeys on her neck. [Don’t you think it’s beautiful, sis-in-law? Robert said he’ll bring you here for your anniversary. Same room, same bed.] 3 Everyone in the room saw that message. A heavy, awkward silence fell. Aaron didn’t say anything. He just turned off my phone and instructed the intern to monitor me closely. The nurse nodded and said something I couldn’t quite hear. I only saw everyone else trying to hide their smiles. Aaron’s face turned red, and he quickly left the room. I was alone in that private room most of the time, with only the beeping machines for company, even on my birthday. On my birthday, my condition worsened, and I was rushed back into surgery. Robert sent a red envelope with a simple “Happy Birthday” in the morning and then disappeared. His social media profile was a blank line. I spent my entire birthday in the ICU. Aaron came to see me constantly, looking more and more exhausted each time. When I was a little more lucid, I saw him standing outside the glass window, holding up a small cake. He mouthed the words, “When you’re better, you can have your birthday cake. Happy birthday, Chloe!” He paused after each word, making sure I could understand. I managed a small smile and a weak nod. Finally, just before midnight, my condition stabilized, and I was moved out of the ICU. Aaron was there with the cake, the candle lit. He asked me what my wish was. Without a moment’s hesitation, I mouthed, “A divorce.” Aaron paused for a second, then blew out the candle for me. “The heavens say your wish will come true,” he told me. I didn’t get to eat the cake, but the fact that he remembered was enough. The next day, feeling a little better, I was about to call my office to request leave when I saw a birthday message from Anna. It was a video. A spectacular fireworks display over the ocean, with drones spelling out “Happy Birthday to You.” The caption read: “Oops, wrong person, sis-in-law. This was from when Robert celebrated my birthday. Isn’t it beautiful?” She then sent a series of photos. They were private maternity photos she had taken of me when I was pregnant. Robert had convinced me it was to capture a beautiful memory, that the body was something to be celebrated, not hidden. So I had agreed. But Anna had taken those photos and entered them into a photography competition. And she hadn’t chosen the tasteful, discreet ones. She used the ones where my face was clearly visible. “Sis-in-law, your photos won an award! Though a lot of people said your stretch marks are disgusting. They just don’t have an eye for art.” After sending that, she pretended to hit the wrong button and sent a voice message. It was Robert’s voice. “They’re not wrong, you know. Sometimes when I see all those stretch marks, I feel disgusted too.” Anna not only won an award with those photos but also a hefty cash prize. Robert, who had been absent from social media for days, suddenly reappeared. Everyone in their little group was congratulating Anna, sharing my photos without blurring my face. After I ‘liked’ one of the posts, Robert finally contacted me. He said he was coming back soon to see me and the baby, then casually ordered, “You should be getting discharged soon. Perfect timing, you can go home and look after Anna’s cat for a few days.” I simply replied, “Okay.” After a few more days of recovery, I contacted a divorce lawyer, had the papers drawn up, and sold the house that was in my name, along with everything Robert had ever given me. I started a short-form video account, using the persona of the woman from Anna’s controversial maternity photos. It quickly gained traction. The photography association even contacted me, inviting me to be a special guest at Anna’s award ceremony. Robert never came to see me, not even on the day I was discharged. His excuse was that he was too busy at the hospital. But Anna had already told me the truth: he was with her, helping her prepare for the ceremony. The day of the awards was a grand affair. My photos were projected on a giant screen, cycling on a loop. Robert sat in the family section, his eyes full of adoration for Anna. He was even wearing the tie I had given him. Anna held up her trophy, beaming. “I want to thank my dearest, most beloved friend, Robert. Without his constant care and support, I wouldn’t have achieved this today.” Robert walked onto the stage with a bouquet of flowers. They embraced deeply. Just as Robert leaned in to kiss the corner of Anna’s mouth, the doors burst open. It was the police. “Mr. Robert, Ms. Anna, please come with us.” 4 They stared at the police, stunned. They had no idea what they could have done wrong. Anna shrank into Robert’s arms, looking wronged. “Robert, I didn’t do anything. Why are the police here? It wasn’t Chloe, was it?” “She’s still in the hospital. And what could she possibly report us for?” At that moment, I stood up. The video on the screen had just switched to one of my more revealing maternity photos. This wasn’t one of the angles she had taken with my permission. It was clearly a candid shot, taken while I was changing. I hadn’t even known she was taking a picture. But she had used this photo for the competition. Her motive was crystal clear. She wanted to humiliate me, to show everyone that I, with my imperfect body and stretch marks, was unworthy of a genius doctor like Robert. That she was the one who truly deserved him. This was the photo that everyone in their friend group had shared. It proved they all knew what Anna was doing and supported her. Robert had probably given them some subtle encouragement, confident that I would just take it, that I wouldn’t make a fuss, especially now that I had his child. So they had all felt free to bully me, to share my private photos, some even posting them on public platforms, leading to a barrage of hateful comments. I had screenshots of it all from the backend of my own video account. All of this was evidence for my police report. The moment I received the invitation to this ceremony, I knew what I had to do. I looked at Robert. “What could I report you for? This photo alone is enough. And even without it, I have other things. Do you want to hear them?” Robert was shocked to see me. I had lost a lot of weight and looked much more haggard than a new mother should. “You… what are you doing here?” He started to walk towards me, but Anna held him back. He didn’t push her away, just kept asking me what was wrong, why I was so thin. “Where’s the baby? Why are you alone? Is the baby okay?” I let out a cold laugh. “So you do remember you have a child? You remember you have a child, yet you were shacked up with Anna in another city while I was hemorrhaging after childbirth!” The moment the words left my mouth, the media outlets covering the event swiveled their cameras towards me. This was much more interesting than an awards ceremony. With the heat I’d already generated online, they weren’t about to miss this opportunity. Robert and his little group of five immediately turned on me. “Don’t you dare make things up! You know we can sue you for slander!” “That’s right! Robert was just celebrating Anna’s birthday with her. We’ve been doing that for years. Why should he stop just because he’s married to you? Anna buys you makeup, and gifts, she’s so good to you! Why are you so petty?” “Yeah!” After the chorus of accusations, Robert turned to the police. “I’m so sorry about this. My wife just gave birth, she probably has some postpartum depression. This is all just a domestic dispute. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.” But the police officer was firm. “Your wife has provided a complete chain of evidence. It strongly suggests that you and Ms. Anna have illegally recorded and used another person’s image for profit.”

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1 The moment I saw the positive pregnancy test, I rushed home, eager to surprise Clark. Instead, I was abducted and thrown onto the stage of an organ auction. A hood was thrown over my head, my body bound to a cold, metal platform. I could hear the voice of Clark’s best friend, Raymond. “Clark, what are you doing here instead of being with your lovely wife? Is the little mistress giving you trouble again?” Clark chuckled. He ran a hand over the woman nestled in his arms, eliciting a playful giggle from her. Her name was Ivy. “You know it. Ivy’s been clamoring for a new nose, and she fancies one made from a rib. My dear Alice, bless her heart, thought I had a business deal and practically kicked me off our honeymoon to come back. She’s adorably naive.” I thrashed against my restraints, desperate for him to notice me. Ivy complained about the noise, and Clark, without a second thought, pressed a button. A jolt of electricity shot through me. A sharp, searing pain tore through my abdomen, and I went limp, tears streaming down my cheeks. A crisp gavel sound echoed through the hall, and the bidding began. “Two hundred thousand! I’ll take a cornea!” “Five hundred thousand! The left kidney is mine!” Soon, my body was a canvas of circles, marking the parts that had been sold. Then, Clark lazily raised his bidding paddle. “One million. I’ll take the heart. A new plaything for my Ivy.” “Mr. Thorne is truly generous!” Raymond boomed. “Alice’s wedding ring was only half a million, wasn’t it? She’d be furious if she knew! Hahahaha!” Clark blew a smoke ring, a smirk playing on his lips. “Ivy’s been with me for five years, and she certainly knows how to please a man. She’s earned it.” “As for Alice? She’s sweet and obedient. A few bouquets of flowers when I get back, and she’ll be happy.” He compared me to his mistress with such casual cruelty. My tears fell, hot and silent. Eight years we’d been together, a love story everyone envied, culminating in a fairy-tale wedding. I never imagined half of that love was being given to someone else. Through the suffocating hood, I could sense him stroking Ivy’s hair. And I was here, trussed up like an animal for slaughter. Rough hands dragged me off the stage. Blinded, I missed a step and tumbled down, the impact jarring every bone in my body. A wave of laughter washed over me, Clark’s voice the loudest and most piercing. Before I could recover from the blinding pain, a rope was yanked around my neck, and I was forced to stumble forward. As I passed Clark, he grabbed my wrist, his brow furrowing as he stared at the sun tattoo there. I tried to make a sound, any sound, to make him see me. We had gotten those tattoos together the day he proposed. He had looked at me with such tenderness. “Alice,” he’d whispered, “you are my sun, illuminating my world. A life with you is a life complete.” But now, his eyes filled with disgust. Without hesitation, he took a scalpel from a nearby tray and carved the tattoo from my flesh. “Only Alice is worthy of this tattoo!” he snarled. “Does every stray cat think she can imitate her now?” “To think you’d stoop this low just to get close to me. You’ve got nerve, but a tattoo will never make you her replacement!” Raymond led a round of applause. “I’m telling you, Alice Thorne has the life. To be cherished by Clark for so many years!” A bitter smile twisted my lips. Yes, in all our years together, Clark had never said no to me. If I wanted the stars, he would have plucked them from the sky. I had never once doubted his love. But now, watching his hand rest possessively on Ivy’s waist… did he truly love me? Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. I tried to reach for him, but he was busy, meticulously peeling a grape for Ivy. I was dragged away, watching in despair as the distance between us grew. The dissector began laying out his instruments. I used every last bit of my strength to crawl, to try and save myself. A pair of high heels stopped in front of me. Ivy ripped off my hood and blew a puff of smoke in my face. “Funny he didn’t recognize you. Then again, you’re always so poised, so perfect. You’ve never looked this pathetic before, have you?” “I want him to be the one to kill you. Then I’ll be his one and only.” “Did you know? On your birthday, when he said he was busy with work? He was busy learning new positions with me.” “Your mother, when she needed help and he didn’t answer? My hand had a tiny little scratch. Every moment he wasn’t with you, he was with me.” With every word, the color drained from my face, until the pain in my heart drowned out everything else. Ivy watched my anguish with a satisfied smirk. 2 Footsteps approached, and she quickly pulled the hood back over my head. I was hoisted onto the dissection table. The cold steel of a blade traced patterns on my skin. The dissector frowned and looked at Clark. “Mr. Thorne, she’s pregnant…” Clark stepped forward and pressed down hard on my abdomen. The pain was so intense I felt like I was being torn in two. He casually stubbed out his cigarette on the raw, bleeding wound where my tattoo used to be and told the dissector to proceed. My hand trembled as I reached for the hem of his coat. Just then, his phone rang. His expression instantly shifted to one of pure joy. “Alice’s pregnant? Don’t tell her I know, she’ll want to surprise me.” “Go! Buy out every baby store in the city! Book the finest birthing center! Boy or girl, this child will be the heir to the Thorne empire.” The delight of a first-time father was written all over his face, and it was a dagger in my heart. The child you’re so excited for is right here, and you have no idea. A flash of jealousy crossed Ivy’s face. She gave the dissector a look. He continued. The scalpel sliced into my skin. A piercing scream tore from my throat. I thrashed wildly, my bound wrists scraping against the metal, sending rivulets of blood down my arms. Clark turned and our eyes met, though he couldn’t see my face. “That voice… it sounds so much like Alice’s.” Hope surged through me. He would save us. He would save me and our child. Ivy clung to his arm, her face a mask of shock. “Did she have surgery on her vocal cords to sound like Alice? That’s terrifying!” Clark’s brief moment of consideration was replaced by revulsion. He strode over and stuffed a wad of cloth into my mouth, silencing me. Ivy began fiddling with a nearby machine. Seeing her curiosity, Clark walked over, took her hand, and guided it to a button. “This is for electrocution.” A burning sensation shot through my limbs. The powerful current made my muscles contract violently, a tearing feeling overwhelming me. A warm gush of fluid flowed from between my legs. “And this is for needles.” My fingers were pried apart. Five long, sharp needles appeared and pierced through my fingertips. Every bone in my body felt like it was being crushed by a millstone. I was on the verge of blacking out, gasping for air. … I don’t know how much punishment I endured. My vision swam with black spots, my consciousness fading. A shrill alarm cut through the haze. Clark pulled out his phone and dialed, but there was no answer. His brow furrowed with anxiety, and he quickly dialed his secretary. “Where is Alice?! Why isn’t she answering her phone? We talk every day at this time! Find her! If you can’t find her, you’re all fired!” He hung up, agitated. In the distance, an attendant led in several small ponies. Clark’s eyes lit up. “Go on, bring me the best one! A gentle one, so it doesn’t hurt Alice. She must be upset with me for not being there!” Ivy whispered something in his ear, a sly smile on her face. The next moment, I was dragged off the table like a sack of garbage, my hands tied securely to the back of a pony. My eyes widened in terror. I tried to scream Clark’s name, but only a strangled hiss escaped my lips. I remembered the water they’d forced me to drink before bringing me on stage. Despair swallowed me whole. Ivy mounted the pony with a gleeful shout, urging it faster and faster. The pain was a contorting mask on my face. I tried to curl into a ball to protect my stomach, but the rough ground tore at my back, leaving a long, bloody trail. Finally, satisfied, Ivy dismounted. “This pony-dragging is so much fun! In the future, Alice can pull the baby in a little cart!” Clark smiled and playfully tapped her nose. “You’re so thoughtful. Alice will definitely like you.” Beads of sweat popped out on my skin. I lay crumpled on the ground, the agony of my baby being ripped from my body a sharp, clear reality. Clark kicked me in the stomach with disgust, shielding Ivy’s eyes with his hand. “Filthy. Don’t look.” My body felt broken in half. I could barely feel my own existence. I looked at Clark’s profile, my heart filled with a desolate sorrow. The same Clark who had once thrown himself in front of a car to save me, the Clark who had sworn he would find me no matter where I was in the world, now couldn’t even recognize me. He was so excited for our child’s arrival. When we learned I might have trouble conceiving, he had gone to a monastery and performed a pilgrimage of nine steps and a bow, his knees raw and bleeding. And now, he had killed his own hope with his own hands. The buyers were getting impatient, urging the dissector to hurry. Clark slowly wiped his hands. 3 “You’ll have to wait for the next shipment. Five million. I’m buying this one.” He then carefully wiped Ivy’s hands, his gaze tender and affectionate. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you this happy. We’ll buy her as a little toy for you.” Their eyes met, a shared, unspoken intimacy passing between them. I was thrown into a cage, left to die. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible rope, heavy and suffocating. Clark squatted in front of me, a playful look in his eyes. “Serve Ivy well, and maybe I’ll save your child.” I struggled to reach up, to pull off my mask, to make him see me, to save our baby. Clark’s eyes darkened. He reached out and snapped my wrist. “Aaargh!!” My bloodcurdling scream echoed through the room. Even some of the hardened onlookers flinched. He dragged me up and slammed me against the wall. I didn’t even have the strength to get up. Clark turned to his secretary. “Still no sign of Alice?! Search everywhere! If you can’t find her, you’ll all be in this cage instead!” Ivy, her eyes red, tried to comfort him. “Don’t worry, Clark. I’m sure Alice is fine. Let’s do something else to distract you, shall we?” Clark glanced at her. Ivy blinked playfully. “The doctor said it’s safe for pregnant women, but I don’t believe it’s not dangerous. Why don’t we… test it? Then you and Alice will know the limits.” I used every ounce of my strength to back away. The glint in Clark’s eyes sent a chill down my spine. He gave a look, and a group of large men approached me. Rough hands groped me, sending shivers of terror through my body. I wanted to scream, but my throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. “Serve me well, little slut, and maybe I’ll ask Mr. Thorne for a favor for you!” A foul stench filled the air. A hand grabbed my hair and forced my head towards the man’s crotch. I pushed him away with all my might and was slammed headfirst into the wall, stars exploding behind my eyes. My fingernails clawed at the floor, leaving bloody streaks. The man watched me for a moment, then released me. Just as I was about to crawl out of the cage, he snatched me back. I screamed with everything I had left. “The child…!” The man’s underwear was shoved into my mouth, and tears of humiliation streamed down my face. Clark, who had been ignoring the scene, frowned and turned. “That’s enough. All of you, back off. I should earn some good karma for my child with Alice.” At the mention of the child, his expression softened, a hint of anticipation in his eyes. Ivy pouted. “It’s just a baby. I can give you one, too.” She was met with a crisp, resounding slap. Clark’s gentle face turned dark and menacing. He grabbed Ivy’s chin. “You’ve been around me for a few years and you think you can compare yourself to Alice? My children will only come from her belly!” Ivy’s eyes instantly filled with tears. Her gaze towards me turned twisted and venomous. She quickly composed herself, her voice a coquettish whine. “I was wrong. I’m just tired and not thinking straight. Don’t be angry with me.” “You hit me, so you have to make it up to me! Make me a shuttlecock to play with!” Clark squinted, then after a moment, a slow smile spread across his face. He rummaged on the dissection table and then walked towards me, a silver knife scraping against the bars of the cage with a piercing screech. Looking at where his gaze was fixed, I finally understood. The shuttlecock Ivy wanted to play with was my heart. I tried to raise my hand to tear off the mask, but even the slightest movement sent waves of agony through my body. My gagged mouth could only produce muffled whimpers. Clark, thinking I was trying to escape, slapped my face hard. “Trash like you should be grateful to be a toy for Ivy. And you want to run? Don’t worry, I’ll compensate your family. But if they cared about you, you wouldn’t be here in the first place, would you?” As a smile touched his lips, the sharp knife plunged into my chest without hesitation. My life with Clark flashed before my eyes. His laughter, his tears, everything he had done for me and our child—all of it vanished like smoke. Clark raised the knife for another cut. My eyelids grew heavy, too heavy to lift. My hand fell limply to my side. The secretary burst in, his face a mask of terror. “Mr. Thorne! We’ve found Mrs. Thorne!”

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I was a Riverwarden, retrieving drowned bodies from the Serpent’s Coil. My quiet life ended when I saved two men—the Crown Prince and his brother. In the chaos, I became pregnant with the Prince’s child. Yet on our wedding day, he vanished, marrying Duke Isolde instead. His brother, Kaelan, confessed hewas with me that night. He swore to marry me and raise the child as his own. A month later, bandits slaughtered every soul in Serpent’s Hollow. The grief stole my unborn child. Kaelan stayed by my side, his devotion unwavering. Three years later, pregnant again, I overheard Kaelan’s truth: “I married her for Isolde. If Moira’s son was firstborn, Isolde’s position would be threatened.” “Did you truly have to massacre Serpent’s Hollow?” “They knew too much.” Loving the Crown Prince was a tragedy. Loving his brother damned me twice. 1 A maid from the palace had just come and gone, intercepted by one of Kaelan’s guards. I only caught a whisper of her words as I passed the study: “…heard that Moira is with child…” Inside, Kaelan’s hand clenched, the porcelain cup in his hand rattling in its saucer. He was a man of immense self-control, and his composure returned in an instant. “I will not allow her to bear it.” His voice was cold as the river in winter. His friend sounded shocked. “But it’s your own flesh and blood.” “Her womb has carried another man’s seed. It’s fouled. Besides,” Kaelan added, a note of revulsion in his tone, “she spent her life pulling corpses from the water. I fear what monstrous thing might be born of it.” He turned to a servant lingering in the shadows. “Have Gisela mix blood-thistle into the Princess’s meals. Be careful. I don’t want her to know.” The friend sighed. “The girl is a pitiful creature, in her own way…” Kaelan’s gaze grew distant, lost in the depths of his tea. “I will allow her to live out her days as a princess,” he murmured. “That will be her compensation.” I clapped a hand over my mouth, stumbling back, my vision tunneling. Ignoring the confused stares of the servants, I fled back to my chambers. In the darkness of my room, I wept. So, the man that night hadn’t been him after all. Yet, for Isolde’s sake, he had willingly married me, a “fouled” woman, and prepared to accept a child that shared none of his blood. I remembered the day of the massacre. He had looked at my blood-soaked dress, his own tears streaming down his face as he held me. “Moira, I swear to you,” he’d choked out, “I will not let our people die in vain. I will not let our child’s death go unavenged.” He was true to his word. Within three days, he had located the bandits’ lair and slaughtered every last one of them. For years, my heart had overflowed with gratitude. I never suspected that the monster I mourned was the same man who held me while I wept. A knock at the door. It was the maid, Gisela. “Your Highness, your dinner is ready.” “Leave it. I’m not hungry.” I couldn’t eat the food laced with poison. The royal physician had told me my first loss had left my body weak. If I miscarried again, I might never bear a child. I wanted this baby. Before, I’d wanted it for Kaelan. Now, I wanted it for my people, for the kin who had died because of me. I couldn’t save them. But I could ensure the line of the Riverwardens did not die out. It was the only atonement I could imagine. Later, heavy footsteps echoed in the courtyard. “Your Grace, the Princess refuses to eat.” “I’ll handle it.” I hastily wiped my eyes, but their swollen redness betrayed me. Kaelan knelt before me, his touch gentle as he stroked my cheek. “Tears and no food. Who has been mistreating my Moira?” “Only the little one in my belly,” I whispered, forcing a smile. Kaelan froze for a second, then his face broke into a masterful performance of joy. “Truly? I’m to be a father?” “Truly.” My heart was a block of ice, but for the sake of my child, I had to play my part. “Kaelan, if… and this is only if… you do not want this child, I will raise it myself. I promise it will never be a burden to you.” A flicker of alarm crossed his eyes, but he masked it with a strained laugh. “What nonsense is this? How could I not love a child you give me, Moira?” He pulled me to my feet. “Come, no more dark thoughts. You must eat.” He led me to a table laden with food. I turned my head away, my stomach churning with revulsion. He placed a piece of steamed greens in my bowl, his voice a soft caress. “Just a little. The child needs you to be strong.” He was so convincing, his affection so seemingly genuine. How could it all be a lie? “I truly cannot eat…” At that, his patience snapped. “You may not wish to eat, but the child must! Will you stop this childish petulance?” He grabbed my chin, his grip like iron, and tried to force the food into my mouth. I wrenched myself free, but in that moment of violence, I understood his resolve. Despair washed over me. Choking back tears, I picked up my fork. “I will eat myself.” Once this meal was finished, everything would be over. In the dead of night, the agony began. A sharp, cramping pain in my belly, and a flow of blood that slowly soaked the bedsheets crimson. Kaelan shouted once, and the royal physician, Master Elian, entered as if he had been waiting just outside the door. The pain was a white-hot haze, but through it, I heard Elian’s cautious whisper. “Your Grace, the Princess’s body was already weakened by her first miscarriage. If we do not save her now, she may never be able to conceive again…” There was a long silence before Kaelan spoke. “It doesn’t matter. When I take other wives, I can grant her a child to raise in her old age.” It doesn’t matter. So it was true. He found me foul. He never wanted my child. My last shred of hope turned to ash. As Elian worked, a lady-in-waiting from the palace burst in. “Your Grace! The Crown Princess is suffering from a stomach ache. She requests Master Elian’s presence at once!” Kaelan’s expression transformed. The concern on his face was raw, undisguised. Without a second thought, he grabbed Elian by the arm to leave. My loyal maid, Carol, threw herself at Kaelan’s feet, her voice a desperate wail. “Your Grace, if you take the physician now, my lady will die!” “The Crown Princess only has a stomach ache, any court doctor can see her! But my lady is on the verge of death!” “I beg you, Your Grace, have mercy on my mistress…” “Insolence!” Kaelan’s heart was already gone. “The Crown Princess is of royal blood! How dare a servant dictate her care?” He kicked Carol aside and threw a dismissive order to a guard. “Brew her some ginseng broth to keep her alive. I will bring Master Elian back as soon as the Crown Princess is well!” Carol tried to follow, but I stopped her. “Carol… don’t.” Her eyes were red and swollen as she looked at me with pity. “My lady, wait for me. I will fetch another physician…” With a strength I didn’t know I possessed, I pushed myself up. From under the bed, I pulled out a small wooden box and gave Carol the iron seal within—the Riverwarden’s Seal. “Carol, go to the palace. Give this to the King himself. Tell him Moira asks for a writ of separation.” When the King had come to my village to retrieve his sons, he had been so grateful for my aid that he’d granted me a single boon. I had never dared to use it. Now, the time had come. It was the afternoon of the next day before Kaelan returned with the physician. By then, another doctor, one Carol had summoned, was just leaving. Kaelan grabbed the man’s arm. “How is the Princess?” “Her life is saved, but alas…” For the first time, Kaelan seemed truly flustered on my account. His voice was low. “Alas, what?” The physician shook his head with a sigh. “Her body is broken. I fear she will live the rest of her life in pain.” A flicker of guilt crossed Kaelan’s face. He came to my bedside and tried to gather my frail form into his arms. “I’m sorry, Moira. It’s not that I didn’t want to care for you, but the Crown Princess carries the royal heir. There could be no delay…” I pushed myself away from his embrace, the movement sending a fresh wave of pain through me. “It doesn’t matter. You’ve been up all night, Your Grace. You should rest.” His hands froze in mid-air. His voice was hoarse. “Moira… are you angry with me?” I closed my eyes. “This common woman wouldn’t dare.” “Common woman?” He heard the shift in my words, the icy formality. He stared at me in disbelief. I had always referred to myself as his humble wife. To change my address now was to draw a line in the sand between us. “Yes. I am of low birth. I cannot be compared to the Crown Princess. You did nothing wrong, Your Grace, and I dare not blame you.” A violent cough shook my frame, and I spat a mouthful of blood onto the sheets. Seeing this, Kaelan didn’t press the matter. He gently patted my back. “Moira has always been the most understanding. It was foolish of me to doubt. You rest now. Your husband will stay right here with you.” I don’t know how long I slept, but I was awakened by a commotion in the courtyard. I opened my eyes to see Carol lying in the center of the yard, being beaten with rods. Her clothes were soaked in blood; she was barely breathing. The Crown Princess, Lady Isolde, sat nearby, watching with a cold, detached air. Seeing me awake, Kaelan didn’t bother with an explanation. He simply placed a hand on my shoulder, holding me down. “The Crown Princess is disciplining a servant, Moira. Do not interfere.” I learned the reason for this brutality. After delivering my request for separation, Carol had fetched the doctor for me. The King and Queen, already feeling guilty over the Crown Prince’s broken betrothal, were furious when they heard how Kaelan had abandoned me for Isolde’s minor complaint. They had harshly reprimanded Isolde, calling her a viper. Unable to touch me, Isolde had decided to take her anger out on Carol. Tears streamed down my face as I watched my friend dying. I clutched Kaelan’s sleeve. “Your Grace, I beg you, save her. It is all my fault.” “Carol was only worried for me.” Kaelan looked pained. “Moira, she is just a servant. Let the Crown Princess vent her anger, and this will all be over.” I stared at his handsome face, unable to comprehend the blackness of the heart that beat beneath it. Just because we were born common, did our lives not matter? Me. Carol. The hundred families of Serpent’s Hollow. I could no longer contain my rage. “Is this how you felt when you butchered Serpent’s Hollow?” I screamed. “They were just commoners, after all!” His face contorted as if I had struck him. He lunged, his hand clamping around my neck, his eyes burning with fury. “Moira, what nonsense are you spouting?!” I struggled, and the movement tore open the wounds in my lower body. Blood gushed out, staining the bed anew. The sight of it seemed to break his rage. He panicked, fumbling to hold me. “Moira, stop moving, don’t move!” I pushed his hands away, my gaze filled with hatred. “Kaelan, was it fun? Lying to me for all these years?” “Hundreds of lives, and my two children. Does your conscience never torment you at night?” His hands hovered in the air, trembling uncontrollably. “You know?” When I didn’t answer, he began to explain. “Moira, I had no choice! Someone in Serpent’s Hollow saw you with the Crown Prince. If word of the pregnancy got out, it would have thrown the entire court into chaos!” I laughed, a cold, broken sound. “Was it the court you feared for, or were you afraid your precious Isolde would lose her power?” His brow furrowed, his guilt instantly replaced by annoyance. “This was my decision. It had nothing to do with Isolde. Do not drag her into this.” Even now, he was protecting her. I was a fool. “And my children? The first I lost to grief, a grief you caused. What about the second?” Now that I had torn away the last veil of deceit, he dropped the act. “Yes. I had it taken from you.” “I wasn’t ready to be a father.” “Even now, you lie to me…” “Moira, enough of this madness! Whatever I have done, consider it my debt to you. I swore I would make it up to you. I will let you live out your days in splendor, secure as a princess!” I didn’t want to hear any more of his empty promises. “Kaelan, I want nothing from you. I will give up everything for a separation. Let me go.” “If you fear I will silence you as I did my village, you can take my life as well.” “I only ask that you save Carol.” I thought the weight of hundreds of lives on his soul might be enough to bargain for one. I had underestimated his depravity. “Moira, stop. This time, I cannot help you.” “Isolde’s heart has been wounded. She is a sensitive, fragile soul. If Carol lives, she will not be able to sleep at night.” I finally understood. In Kaelan’s world, a commoner’s life was worth less than Lady Isolde’s peaceful slumber. I shoved him away and dragged my broken body into the courtyard. I fell at Isolde’s feet, clutching the hem of her dress. “Your Highness, I beg you, spare Carol. It is all my fault.” Isolde smirked. “And what was your fault?” “I am low-born. I should not have troubled the royal physician.” “I should not have displeased Your Highness.” “Enough,” Isolde said, kicking my hand away in disgust. “You are covered in filth. It’s nauseating.” She turned to Kaelan. “Kaelan, I’m tired. Will you take me home?” Kaelan glanced at me, crumpled on the ground. He hesitated for a moment, but in the end, he chose Isolde. I felt for Carol’s faint pulse. I called out to Kaelan one last time. “Your Grace, can you at least send for Master Elian?” Kaelan started to give the order, but Isolde cut him off. “No physician is to be called. I have spared her life. Whether she lives or dies is up to fate.” Kaelan gave me one last, complicated look, then clenched his jaw and turned away. At that moment, something inside me shattered. I screamed at his retreating back. “Kaelan, let us separate!” Isolde, hearing this, laughed aloud. “She wants a separation, Kaelan. Aren’t you going to comfort her?” He shot me a look of pure annoyance. “She doesn’t need comforting. It’s just an empty threat. Outside this manor, she cannot even feed herself.” “Besides,” he added, his voice laced with contempt, “she’s carried two children and been married twice. Who else would have her?” He was right. Outside these walls, I would likely die. But to stay here was a fate worse than death. Ignoring the pain, I crawled back inside and placed the writ of separation on the table. I found a rickety handcart in the stables, and with Carol inside, I left the manor. This time, I was finally free. On his way back from escorting Isolde, Kaelan saw a familiar figure walking towards the city gates. He squinted, but couldn’t make out the face. “Is that Moira?” he asked his attendant. The attendant followed his gaze. “Your Grace, your eyes must be playing tricks on you. Why would the Princess leave the city alone?” Leave the city? A sharp pain, like a needle, pierced Kaelan’s heart. He felt breathless. There was only one reason Moira would leave the city. The separation was real. If it was real… was she gone from the manor? A cold dread enveloped him. He was afraid. Afraid that she was gone, and he would have no idea where to even begin looking for her. “Back to the manor! Now!” As he arrived, he saw Isolde’s maid waiting anxiously at the gate. He rushed forward. “Isolde… is the Crown Princess alright?” “Your Grace, Master Elian’s calming drought for the Princess is missing a key herb. I’ve checked every apothecary in the city. I came to see if the manor had any in its stores.” The household steward was just coming out. Kaelan lunged towards him, but the herb was the last thing on his mind. “Is the Princess in the manor?” “Her Highness has left.” “Where did she go?” “I do not know, Your Grace.” The steward then turned to the maid, bowing apologetically. “I have searched our stores. I’m afraid we are also out of that herb.” The maid wrung her hands. “What shall we do? The Crown Princess’s pregnancy is already so fragile…” Kaelan stared at Moira’s empty chambers, hesitating. His attendant saw his conflict. “Your Grace, help the Crown Princess find her medicine first. The Princess Moira loves you so much. How could she truly leave you? She is likely just angry, throwing a tantrum. She will probably return on her own by nightfall…” Kaelan allowed himself to be convinced. “You’re right. Where else could she possibly go without me? Let her have her tantrum. I will soothe her when she returns.” …

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Outlaws raided our town while my husband, the Marshal, took all the men to escort Lily to a traveling show. The mayor begged me to fetch him. I refused. In my past life, I’d ridden pregnant through the ridge trail to drag him back, saving the town—but escaping outlaws caught Lily. They violated her and left her for the wolves. My husband hunted them down, then locked himself away for three days. He never spoke of it—until the county gave me Lily’s role as head of the Women’s Society. On our child’s birth day, he dragged me into those same woods. “You conspired with them!” he snarled, breaking my legs and slitting my belly open. “Now you’ll die like she did.” When I awoke, I was back on that fateful day. This time, he could protect Lily himself. … 1 The crack of a rifle shot was the sound of my second chance at life. I scrambled for the door, but just as I threw it open, the town mayor, Elias, stumbled in, his face pale. “Treisa! The outlaws are here! Get your husband up! He needs to rally the men and protect the town!” Before I could answer, Elias’s wife rushed in behind him, her voice trembling. “Elias, I’ve looked everywhere! The young men are all gone, and the guns are missing from the Marshal’s office.” I looked past her and saw a crowd of the town’s women, their faces etched with a primal fear. Elias was stunned. “Gone? Where could they all be?” As the only one who knew the bitter truth, I had no choice but to speak it. “Jed took them. They’ve all gone to escort Lily to the show in Red Creek.” “Fools!” Elias slammed his fist on the table. “The circuit judge just warned us! Said Silas Vance’s gang was getting bolder. He ordered Jed to double the patrols, and they desert their posts for a theatre show?” A few of the women spat on the ground, cursing Lily’s name for bewitching so many men. Just then, another volley of shots echoed through the gulch. Screams erupted. Elias, to his credit, kept his head. “The rest of you men, get the ironwood gate barred! Women and children, into the root cellar beneath the general store! Don’t you dare come out until you hear a friendly voice!” Our town, Stonegate Gulch, was nestled in a remote canyon. Two paths led in. The main road was wide and well-traveled, guarded by a massive ironwood gate our founders had built. This land was harsh, the people poor, and outlaws were a constant threat. That gate had saved us more than once. Once barred, it was nearly impossible to breach. The other path was a treacherous ridge trail behind the mountain. It was a winding, dangerous track where one wrong step could send you plummeting to your death. Though it was a half-hour ride to the next town, no one ever used it. After giving his orders, Elias turned to me. “Treisa, you know how to ride, and you’ve taken that ridge trail before. You have to go. Find Jed and bring him and the men back. They’re our only hope.” I bit my lip, the lie tasting like ash in my mouth. “Mayor, it’s not that I won’t go. But I fear even if I find him, Jed won’t come back.” A heavy silence fell over the room. Ever since Lily had arrived in town as the new schoolteacher, my husband’s eyes had been glued to her. Everyone in Stonegate Gulch knew the screaming matches we had over her. As their gazes burned into my skin, my sister-in-law, Abigail, stepped forward, saving me. “I’ll go. I know the trail, too. Besides,” she added, glancing at my belly, “Treisa’s with child. A ride like that could be… unwise.” Elias nodded grimly, and without another word, Abigail ran home to saddle her horse. The mayor’s wife herded the rest of us into the damp, dark root cellar to wait. An hour and a half later, Abigail returned. When her silhouette appeared at the cellar entrance, a cheer went up. We thought the men had returned. But her face was ashen. “They won’t come back,” she whispered, her voice cracking. The crowd fell silent. “Why?” someone asked. Tears streamed down Abigail’s face. “They said I was lying. Jed… my own brother… he accused me of conspiring with you, Treisa, of making it all up to ruin his day with Lily. I got on my knees and begged him, but he just called me a shameless liar and turned his back.” The story came tumbling out, punctuated by heart-wrenching sobs. The injustice of it infected us all, and the cellar filled with muttered curses against Lily, the so-called teacher who cared nothing for the women of this town, only for the attention of its men. Before the anger could fully boil over, a deafening BOOM shook the very earth beneath us. We all shot to our feet. Elias appeared at the cellar door, his face grim. “They have dynamite. They’re going to blast the gate.” “What do we do?” a woman wailed. “Are we all going to die in here?” Fear, thick and suffocating, filled the small space. Looking at their terrified faces, an idea sparked within me. “If our men won’t come,” I said, my voice steady, “then we’ll get help from another town.” “I’ll go!” Abigail declared, her tears still wet on her cheeks. But as she tried to stand, she cried out and stumbled. We forced her to sit, and when we pushed up her pant leg, we saw her shins were bruised and swollen to twice their normal size. She admitted sheepishly that she’d pushed her horse too hard and taken a bad fall on the trail. “It’s nothing,” she insisted, trying to stand again. “I can still ride.” I pushed her firmly back down. “No. You stay. I’ll go.” Ignoring their protests, I scrambled out of the cellar and swung myself onto my horse. Elias ran to my side. “Treisa, you have to bring help back within two hours. That gate won’t hold for long.” I nodded, a grim resolve settling in my heart. Halfway down the ridge trail, a figure darted out from the pines, forcing me to yank hard on the reins. My heart leaped when I saw who it was. Caleb, the Marshal from the neighboring town of Red Creek. I slid off my horse, relief flooding through me. “Caleb! Thank God you’re here!” I was about to pour out the whole story when he grabbed my arm in a vice-like grip. “I know,” he said, his voice cold as a tombstone. He sneered, his expression twisted with disgust. “I’ve been waiting for you.” 2 A numbing shock shot up my arm. “What are you talking about?” “You’re on your way to meet the outlaws, aren’t you?” Caleb’s eyes burned with contempt. “Jed came to me this morning. Told me to watch this trail, said you’d use it to rendezvous with Vance’s gang. Treisa, your father was a legend, a Ranger who hunted men like Vance to the ends of the earth. And you’re spitting on his grave, colluding with them out of petty jealousy!” His words hit me like a physical blow. It took a moment for my brain to even process the accusation. In my last life, when Jed was killing me, he’d screamed the same things. That I’d summoned the outlaws to make myself a hero and steal Lily’s position. That I’d orchestrated her rape and murder. In that instant, I knew. Jed had been reborn, too. That’s why he’d ignored Abigail’s pleas. But I never imagined he’d go this far—blocking our only path to salvation. There was no time for anger. I swallowed my pride. “Caleb, I swear to you, I’m not colluding with anyone. Silas Vance and his men are in Stonegate Gulch right now. They have dynamite, and they’re blowing the gate apart. Jed took all our men to go see a show with Lily.” I stared into his eyes, trying to will him to believe me. “Please, get your men. Ride to Stonegate. If you don’t, everyone will be killed.” For a second, my earnestness seemed to give him pause. Then he threw his head back and laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “Treisa, you’re a hell of an actress. You almost had me. But saying Jed would abandon his post for a woman? That’s where your story falls apart.” “Jed?” he scoffed. “He’s the most responsible man I know. An old soldier. He wouldn’t do that. He’s my friend.” His ridicule was a knife in my heart. “I’m telling the truth,” I pleaded. “Go and see for yourself.” “I see you’re just trying to get me to leave so you can meet your outlaw friends.” Caleb shook his head, his face hardening into a mask of grim righteousness. “Listen to me, Treisa. Jed asked me to stop you, to talk some sense into you. Do you know why I’m here alone? Because he still loves you. He didn’t want to turn you over to the U.S. Marshals. He wanted to give you a chance to turn back from this path.” Jed loves me. Before Lily arrived, I might have believed that. He and Abigail were orphans my father had rescued from a bandit raid that killed their parents. He was ten when he came to live with us. We grew up together, inseparable. When I was sixteen, my father was killed in an ambush, an act of revenge by the very men he used to hunt. On his deathbed, he entrusted me to Jed. Jed promised. Then he left to join the army, telling me to wait for him. He served for five years. I waited for five years, raising Abigail on my own. When he returned, we were married. But he was always distant, lukewarm. People told me it was because we’d known each other too long, that we were already like an old married couple. I believed them. Until Lily arrived. Then I saw the light that could truly shine in Jed’s eyes. He would help her with her chores, stare at her for long moments when she wore a pretty dress, and secretly save his money to buy her expensive scented soaps from the city. The memory was a familiar, sharp pain. But this was no time for heartache. If Caleb wouldn’t help, I had to find someone who would. There was an army fort twenty miles away. I was a better rider than most men. If I pushed my horse, I could make it in an hour. Our town still had a chance. I tried to vault back onto my horse, but Caleb grabbed me again. “So you’re still going to them?” “If you won’t help, I’ll find someone who will,” I spat, struggling against his grip. “Let me go!” “I can’t let you do that.” Caleb twisted my arm, and a sickening pop echoed in the silence as my shoulder left its socket. He pulled a rope from his saddlebag, bound my wrists, and began leading me toward Red Creek. Tears of frustration and pain streamed down my face. “Caleb, let me go! I have to save them!” “Stop your damn play-acting,” he grunted, hoisting me onto his horse. “You’re not going anywhere today.” He led the horse toward his town. As we neared the outskirts, we saw several of his deputies rushing out, rifles in hand. Caleb called out, “What’s happening?” “A prospector just rode in! Said he saw Silas Vance’s gang swarming Stonegate Gulch! We’re riding to help!” Caleb’s face went white as a sheet.

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1 In the main hall of the nightclub, my pregnant sister was shoved onto a stage. Below, a crowd of men, faces flushed and red, argued over the child in her belly. “It’s definitely mine! I was the most energetic that night!” “Bullshit! I went more times, so my chances are higher!” My sister’s face was ashen. She turned to the man beside her, her voice trembling with tears. “Asher, you’re my fiancé. How could you do this to me?” Asher wrapped his arm around a delicate-looking girl and sneered. “You don’t even know whose kid you’re carrying. You have the nerve to ask me that?” The girl covered her mouth in a shy smile, but her eyes, fixed on my sister, were filled with triumph. I sat in the shadows below the stage, my eyes turning to ice. I’d been away for a few years, and someone had dared to bully a member of the Cannon family. … My assistant leaned in and whispered, “Should I have Mr. Cross, the owner of the club, come over and give you an explanation?” I scoffed. “What’s the use in calling him? Have everyone on standby.” “Yes, ma’am.” My assistant quickly withdrew. They dared to touch my sister? Not a single one of them would be leaving this place in one piece tonight. My sister’s voice shook. “It was only you that night! How could I be pregnant with someone else’s child?” The girl in Asher’s arms, Sierra, giggled. “Oh, Olivia, don’t you remember? After you got drunk, you kept saying ‘one isn’t enough’ and dragged several men into the room. Did you forget?” My sister’s face went white. “Impossible! Only Asher was in the room…” Her words trailed off. She froze, her eyes locked on Asher. “It was you… that glass of red wine… you drugged me?!” Asher didn’t deny it. He didn’t even look at her. Instead, he pulled a stack of photos from his pocket and scattered them across the stage. “Come on, place your bets! Whoever guesses right gets a bonus—the hot video from that night!” The crowd below erupted in cheers. “Damn, this is intense! Not a scrap of clothing. You can see everything so clearly!” “Hotter than a porn cover! Just one look and I’m burning up!” Sierra picked up a photo, glanced at it with disgust, and tossed it aside. It fluttered down in front of me. I picked it up. One look, and my vision went black with rage. These people were insane. They were about to find out what happens when you mess with the Cannon family. The men below were like a pack of wolves, fighting over the photos of my sister. Bills slapped onto the card tables, their eyes red as they placed their bets, as if they were auctioning off a piece of merchandise. I sat in the darkness, swirling the wine in my glass, my eyes cold as I watched the absurd spectacle unfold. My assistant wasn’t back yet. I just had to wait a little longer… “All bets are in!” The dealer’s voice cut through the noise. “Now, let’s bring in the professionals to reveal the answer to our little wager!” Several men in white lab coats rushed onto the stage with their equipment. Without a word, they grabbed my sister’s arm. The needle glinted under the lights, about to pierce her skin. “Get off me!” My sister, usually so gentle, suddenly fought back with surprising ferocity. She wrenched her arm free, her nails scratching bloody lines across one man’s face. “Where’s Cross? Get him out here! If I lose a single hair on my head tonight, this shithole of a club will be shut down tomorrow!” My sister’s voice was raw and desperate, but the crowd just roared with laughter. Sierra giggled, her body shaking. “Oh, is our little Miss Cannon still dreaming?” She suddenly grabbed a handful of my sister’s hair and whispered in her ear, “Did you forget? Mr. Cross is my brother. He bankrupted the Cannon family a long time ago. Where do you get the nerve to make threats in his club?” I, who had already moved to the foot of the stage, ready to intervene, felt a jolt of shock. Cross’s sister? The Cannon family, bankrupt? How did I not know this? Asher pulled Sierra into his arms. “Why are you wasting your breath on her?” He turned to the men in lab coats. “Hurry up. Don’t waste any more time.” Just as the needle touched my sister’s skin, the dealer beside them cried out in alarm. “Stop!” he bellowed. 2 Everyone froze, including me. He was trembling as he pulled a jade seal from my sister’s waist, a cold sweat instantly soaking his back. “The… the Cloudwater Seal?!” In his shock, he pressed the button for the club’s highest-level emergency line. “Mr. Cross, the Cloudwater Seal has appeared. Please come and verify its authenticity!” Asher’s face darkened, and even Sierra, in his arms, fell silent. Cross, the “Mr. Cross” they were talking about, was just an adopted son of my father’s. By age, he should be calling me “big sister.” Knowing this was his territory, my taut nerves relaxed slightly. I waited, my expression unreadable, for my assistant to return. Soon, Cross’s personal secretary, Bianca, arrived. “Mr. Cross will be here shortly. Let me assess the situation first.” The moment her fingers touched the seal, Sierra, still in Asher’s embrace, let out a sweet laugh. “What a coincidence. I have one of those cheap things too.” She pulled a brocade box from her purse. The moment the box sprang open, the entire room gasped. Two Cloudwater Seals. Identical. “Hers has a crack in it,” Sierra said, her red lips curving into a smirk. “It’s a fake.” My sister cried out desperately, “My sister gave this to me herself! How could it be fake?” “I’m Evelyn Cannon’s real sister!” The words had barely left her mouth before Sierra laughed again. “I’ve lived in the Cannon family home for years, and I’ve never seen you with a sister. You’re such a pathological liar, you’d even make up a fake sister!” Bianca, after examining the seals, respectfully returned Sierra’s and smoothly joined the conversation. “Evelyn Cannon?” A look of contempt crossed her face, as if she’d heard a joke. “I’ve never heard of anyone by that name.” “Since the real Cloudwater Seal is in Miss Sierra’s possession, we won’t interfere in Miss Olivia’s affairs. You may continue.” With that, Bianca stepped aside, an air of detached indifference about her. The men in the crowd erupted. “Get on with it! I bet a hundred grand that she’s carrying my kid!” “After the test, we can all take turns for a taste.” The men were like flies to blood. One even started unbuckling his belt. “I’m raising my bet! The moment the test is done, I’m getting a piece of that!” The men in lab coats once again pinned my sister to the stage. The needle glinted, aimed straight for her pale skin. My assistant still hadn’t returned, but I couldn’t wait any longer. “Stop!” I leaped onto the stage and kicked over the metal tray of instruments with a deafening crash. Bianca’s pupils constricted. “Who is this crazy woman? How dare you cause trouble in Mr. Cross’s club?” I gave a cold smile. “Cannon family. Evelyn Cannon.” 3 The entire hall fell into a dead silence. But the silence only lasted a second. “Hahahaha—” The room exploded with deafening laughter. Some people were laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes. “Evelyn Cannon? You?” “She’s a legendary figure, someone who could shake the capital to its core! We haven’t heard anything about her for years. Why would she show up here?” Sierra clutched her stomach, laughing uncontrollably. “Olivia, which acting troupe did you hire this one from? She’s actually pretty convincing!” Asher frowned, his gaze full of disgust. “Olivia, get this imposter out of here. Haven’t you embarrassed yourself enough?” My sister gripped my arm tightly, her eyes filled with a disbelieving excitement. The veins in my temples throbbed. I fought to suppress my raging fury. “When Cross gets here, we’ll see who’s who.” I pulled my sister behind me, my gaze as sharp as a knife. “Until then, whoever touches a single hair on her head, I’ll chop off their hands.” Sierra covered her mouth in a mocking smile. “Oh, she’s really into her role. If the real Evelyn Cannon were here, she’d have a whole entourage, not just be by herself.” I glanced at my team of bodyguards, currently stuck in a corner, and a cold smile touched my lips. “Get Cross out here! I want to ask him if he still has any respect for me, his sister.” Bianca narrowed her eyes, looking me up and down, a sneer playing on her red lips. “Who do you think you are, to use Mr. Cross’s full name like that? You really don’t know your place.” She slowly twisted the jade bracelet on her wrist, her voice suddenly dropping. “Men, take her down!” “I want to see just how much you’re really worth.” Several burly men heard her and grinned greedily, their voices dripping with malicious amusement. “Yes, Miss Bianca! I’ll make sure to strip her down to nothing and weigh every last ounce for you!” As they spoke, their hands reached for my sister and me. I slapped one of the men across the face. “How dare you! Are you looking to die? Do you have any idea what will happen if you touch me?” The man’s head snapped to the side from the force of the blow. His eyes turned vicious, and he lunged, his hands closing around my throat. “You bitch, you think you’re something special, huh?” “Today, in front of everyone, I’m going to teach you some manners!” A wave of jeering laughter erupted from the crowd. Several men closed in, some even taking out their phones to record. My sister cried out, trying to rush to me, but Sierra grabbed her by the hair and threw her to the ground. “Olivia, who is this person you found? Is she crazy, causing trouble here?” “You play the part of the innocent debutante so well, but who knows whose bastard you’re carrying in that belly of yours!” With that, Sierra slapped my sister across the face, so hard that blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. I kicked the man beside me, trying to get to her, but several strong arms pinned me down. My bodyguards were blocked by the chaotic crowd, unable to move an inch. “Tsk, tsk. The imposter is really getting into character, isn’t she?” Sierra, in her high heels, pressed the tip of her shoe against my sister’s chin. “Get on your knees and kowtow three times. Maybe then I’ll ask Bianca to let your fake sister go.” My sister looked at Asher, her voice trembling. “Asher, she really is my sister. If you hurt her, you’ll all regret it…” Asher coolly adjusted his cuffs, his eyes looking at us as if we were trash. “If it weren’t for you, none of this would be happening. Apologize to Sierra. Now.” “Kowtow! If you don’t, we’ll strip her clothes off right now!” The men sneered, their hands reaching for my collar. “I’ll do it!” My sister’s knees slammed onto the marble floor. Her forehead pressed against the cold stone. “Please… don’t touch my sister…” I watched her slam her head against the ground, over and over. With every kowtow, it felt like a sharp knife was carving a piece out of my heart. My assistant was still gone. The bodyguards at the door were strangely inactive. Something was very wrong. Bianca looked at my face, her eyes flashing with jealousy. She had produced a scalpel from somewhere, and now the blade was pressed against my skin. “Such a beautiful face. I wonder if Mr. Cross will still recognize you after I’m done with it.” “Don’t touch my sister!” my sister suddenly struggled. “Cross will make you wish you were never born!” “You really think you’re the great Miss Cannon, don’t you? Too bad the Cannon family doesn’t go by that name anymore.” Bianca mocked my sister as she pressed the blade deeper, a warm trickle of blood sliding down my neck. Just as she was about to cut again, the main doors burst open with a deafening crash. Cross entered, flanked by a team of his men. His eyes swept over my sister’s bloodied forehead and the cut on my face. The atmosphere in the room instantly dropped to freezing.

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My five-year-old daughter learned to lie. During her teacher’s home visit, she clung to the woman’s legs, sobbing that I’d broken her fingers to avoid homework. The teacher called the police. I was arrested in cuffs and lost my job. Returning home, I found she’d secretly photographed me with the teacher, sending it to our family group chat: “Teacher visits Mommy daily when Daddy’s gone. When he’s home, Mommy doesn’t hit me.” My furious husband kicked my leg until it snapped. As I wept on the floor, our daughter tilted her head innocently: “Kids don’t lie, right?” He divorced me. In court, my daughter begged him: “Save me from Mommy’s photo shoots with strange uncles!” My phone revealed edited logs of me selling inappropriate photos of her. A mob of “child protectors” crushed me to death. Dying, I couldn’t fathom why my cherished child would destroy me. Then I woke up—back to the day she first accused me. … 1 “Mr. Peterson, I finished all my homework, I swear. But last night, my dog, Buddy, he… he ate it all. I don’t have it to give you right now.” My daughter, Zoe, hugged her teacher’s leg, her face a perfect mask of sincere pleading. Mr. Peterson looked helplessly from her to me, seeking confirmation. “Mrs. Miller, is this… is this true?” I looked at Zoe’s innocent smile, and a deathly chill crawled up my spine. I was back. I had been reborn. In my past life, when Zoe used the same clumsy excuse, I had patiently tried to guide her. “If you didn’t finish your homework, you need to be brave and admit it, honey. Mommy will help you with it. But lying is a very bad thing to do. You should apologize to your teacher.” But before Mr. Peterson could even scold her, Zoe had thrown herself onto the floor, wailing as if her heart was breaking. “Mr. Peterson… I really couldn’t do my homework! Mommy comes home drunk every night and she hits me! She just broke two of my fingers. I can’t even hold a pencil! Please don’t be mad at me!” Mr. Peterson immediately scooped her into his arms. He saw the faint, bluish marks on her fingers and, without another word, called the police. I frantically explained to the officers that she’d hurt her fingers on the slide at the playground the day before. It took pulling the security footage from our apartment complex to finally make them believe me. But the damage was done. Word got back to my company, my reputation was ruined, and I lost my six-figure job. I couldn’t fathom it. My daughter, who was always so well-behaved and sensible, why would she tell such a monstrous lie just to get out of homework? When I dragged my exhausted body home that day, I was met not with the chance to discipline my daughter, but with a kick from my husband, Mark, that shattered my leg. “You filthy cheat! I break my back working to support you two, and you dare bring some pretty boy into my house behind my back?” I was completely bewildered as he pinned me down, hitting me, until I saw the photo Zoe had sent to the family group chat. Only then did I understand. [This is so nice! Mr. Peterson is visiting Mommy again! She’s always in such a good mood when he comes over, so she probably won’t hit me today. I wonder if he’ll sleep over at our house again tonight…] I looked at my daughter in disbelief, desperately trying to explain to my enraged husband that it was all a lie. But Zoe just looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Daddy, I don’t know what ‘lying’ is. I only say what I see.” Mark had completely lost his mind. He landed another heavy punch on my face. “She’s four and a half years old! How could she possibly know how to lie? You’re not fit to be a mother! You’d throw your own daughter under the bus just to cover up your affair!” I was beaten until I was legally disabled, and he filed for divorce. In court, terrified that Zoe’s habit of lying would only get worse, I fought with everything I had to keep her with me, to guide her. But she knelt on the floor, crying, begging Mark to take her. “I don’t want to wear those weird clothes for those gross uncles anymore! I want to go with Daddy so I can study and be a good girl. I don’t want Mommy to hit me anymore. Please, please save me!” I froze, stunned. Before I could even process what she’d said, my mother-in-law rushed forward, snatched my phone, and handed it to the judge. The screen was filled with lurid photos of Zoe in white stockings and dark frilly dresses, posed in ways that made my stomach clench. Alongside them were countless transactions from anonymous accounts, all with suggestive notes attached. “Claire! Zoe is your own daughter! How could you be so depraved, using her to make money? She’s not even five years old… and you’ve ruined her!” I never got a second hearing. I was ambushed by a group of enraged parents and “child safety” fanatics outside the hospital. They pinned me down and choked the life out of me. My last sight was of Zoe, nestled in her father’s arms, a sly, triumphant smirk flashing across her face. Even in death, I couldn’t understand why the sweet, obedient child who used to love helping me with chores would tell lie after lie to see me destroyed. Now, reborn, I wondered: if I make a different choice, can I prevent it all from happening again? 2 I forced a smile, meeting Mr. Peterson’s questioning gaze. “I’m not sure about the dog eating her homework, but Zoe hasn’t been feeling well these past few days. Could we perhaps put the homework on hold for a bit?” Mr. Peterson nodded, not pressing the issue further. I looked at Zoe and saw her smiling sweetly back at me, with none of the sinister energy I remembered from my past life. A wave of relief washed over me. Maybe she was just being a mischievous kid. Maybe I had pushed her too hard with school in my past life, and that’s what made her act out. She was just a child, after all. If I communicated with her properly, a small problem like lying could surely be fixed. I stood up to walk Mr. Peterson to the door with Zoe. But the moment I opened it, my world froze. Mark was standing there. He threw a punch that connected squarely with Mr. Peterson’s face, sending the teacher stumbling back into the apartment. “You dare carry on your affair in my house! I’ll kill you, you bastard! If my daughter hadn’t told me the truth, I would’ve been wearing these horns for the rest of my life!” I stood, paralyzed, feeling as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. I had given Zoe what she wanted. Why did she still lie? A notification popped up from the family group chat. It was the same message as last time, only this time, Zoe’s tone was even more pitiful. [Mommy wants me to call Mr. Peterson ‘Daddy.’ I don’t want to, but what if she hits me if I don’t?] Seeing Mark, Zoe ran to him and burst into tears. “Daddy, you’re finally back! Mommy and Mr. Peterson were hitting me together! I thought I’d never see you again!” Mr. Peterson, dizzy and stunned from the unexpected blow, stared at Zoe in disbelief. “Zoe, I’m just here for a home visit to check on your homework. Why would you lie like that?” Zoe’s sobs grew louder. “But… but why do you only ever come to our house for visits? I’m so scared…” Mark’s face was purple with rage. “My daughter is four and a half! She doesn’t know how to lie! You two adulterous scumbags, you have the nerve to blame your filth on her? I’ll teach you both a lesson you’ll never forget!” As Mark raised his fist again, I threw myself between them. “If you want to know if Mr. Peterson comes here often, just check the security camera footage from the lobby! You’ll see if Zoe is telling the truth!” I turned to Zoe, my brow furrowed, and deliberately softened my voice. “Zoe, sweetie… if you admit right now that you were lying, Mommy will forgive you. If you just apologize to us, we can pretend this never happened. Okay?” Perhaps my confidence gave him pause, because Mark looked down at our daughter, his fury wavering. “Zoe, just tell us the truth. If your mom really hit you, Daddy will make it right.” Mr. Peterson, though flustered, managed to speak calmly. “Zoe, perhaps you’re mistaken about the time? I only do a home visit once a week, at most.” Zoe chewed her lip, crying for a long moment before she slowly looked up at Mark. “Daddy, don’t check the cameras. You won’t find anything.” I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, a flicker of hope warming my chest. Maybe she was just being naughty, not completely lost. With proper guidance, she could still get back on the right track. But in the next second, Zoe shook her head helplessly. “Mr. Peterson always stays for a really, really long time. The security cameras don’t record for that long. He stays for hours and hours. I’m not lying.” A bomb went off in my head. Mark’s face, which had begun to soften, instantly turned to stone. “So that’s your game! Trying to threaten your own daughter into lying for you! How can you call yourself a mother? God knows what you’ve put Zoe through!” He stormed into the storage closet and came back with a golf club. He was going to teach me and Mr. Peterson a lesson. Zoe flinched beside me, her voice a tiny, terrified whisper. “Mommy hits me on the head with that all the time. It hurts so much… she almost killed me once…” I stared at the club, speechless. It was covered in a thick layer of dust, clearly untouched for a very long time. But Mark was beyond reason. He swung the club at us. Just as it was about to connect with my skull, I reacted, grabbing a chair to block the blow and screaming with all my might. “Stop! I have a witness who can prove Zoe is lying!” 3 Mark’s hand, gripping the club, trembled violently, but he didn’t swing again. “I work a nine-to-five job every single day, and your mother, who lives downstairs, sees me come and go! If you don’t believe me, you can’t possibly disbelieve your own mom, can you? Just ask her if I’ve ever laid a hand on Zoe!” Mark’s face was a grim mask, but he gave a curt nod. He would go ask. Zoe, who had been sitting quietly on the sofa, glanced nervously at her little wristwatch and then looked back at Mark. “Daddy… it’s… it’s getting late. Zoe needs to sleep. Can we not go?” A child’s guilt is a transparent thing. This time, even Mark could see something was wrong. Without another word, I picked Zoe up and marched downstairs to my mother-in-law’s apartment. Thankfully, we had bought her a place on the ground floor of our building years ago to better care for her. Otherwise, I’d have no one to vouch for me. Tonight, I was going to break this destructive habit of lying, once and for all. I couldn’t let it fester like last time. I knocked firmly on her door. “Mom, Mark thinks I’m seeing other men. He also says I beat Zoe all the time. Can you please set the record straight for us?” My mother-in-law had always been good to me over the years, helping with laundry, cooking, and watching Zoe. I loved her like my own mother. I didn’t need her to embellish anything, just to tell the simple truth: that Zoe was lying today. She wrapped her arms around Zoe, her eyes darting nervously between us. “Well… Claire does go to work on time every day. And I… I certainly don’t see her bringing men home.” I silently breathed a sigh of relief. As I prepared to confront Mark, my mother-in-law’s expression suddenly changed, and she began to sob quietly. “Oh, what a tragedy for this family… My poor Zoe, to have a mother like you. My son… oh, my son… can your mother speak honestly?” I froze, completely baffled by her sudden performance. She wiped her eyes, tears and snot streaming down her face. “Every time you beat her, Zoe comes crying to me! It breaks my heart to see my granddaughter suffer so much. I was just so afraid you two would get a divorce that I never dared to say anything. It’s my fault… it’s all my fault for letting Zoe get hurt.” I stood there, rigid, a cold blade twisting in my heart. “Mom… what are you talking about? Why would you slander me in front of Mark?” My mother-in-law seemed even more furious than me. She snatched my phone from my hand, her voice shaking with rage. “Then you explain this! Where did these pictures on your phone come from?” She held up my phone. The screen was filled with images of Zoe in revealing clothes, tears glistening in her eyes as she forced a smile for the camera. It felt like I’d been struck by lightning. I stared at the phone, my head roaring. In my past life, those strange photos and contacts had mysteriously appeared on my phone, leading to my wrongful death. The moment I was reborn, the very first thing I did was delete every single one of those photos and any suspicious apps. I left no trace. There was absolutely no way those photos should be on my phone again. But I couldn’t understand how. I had just deleted them. No one else had touched my phone since. I reached for the phone, needing to see for myself, but Mark kicked me to the ground before I could touch it. “You make me sick! Zoe is just a little girl! You’re her mother! Making her take pictures like that for money… are you even human?” His voice was low and menacing. “Today, even if I go to prison for it, I’m going to get rid of a monster like you. I’d be failing Zoe as a father if I didn’t.” I clutched my stomach, the pain sharp and deep. “Zoe… why are you lying? Who took these pictures of you?” Mark kicked me again, and I tasted blood. My mother-in-law fanned the flames. “I only tolerated you this long because I wanted Zoe to have a happy family. But you beat her half to death, you torture her into taking those disgusting pictures! Do you really think she could just make something like that up?” Zoe stood in the corner, a bizarre, knowing smirk playing on her lips. She didn’t look like a kindergartener at all. “Daddy,” she said, her voice soft and sweet, “if Mommy dies… will that mean no one can bully me anymore? And I won’t have to take weird pictures, and I can just focus on school? Is that right?” Her voice was as soft as cotton, but it sent a freezing dread through my entire body. Mark, pushed beyond his limits, let his gaze fall on a heavy, metal stool nearby. His eyes went blank and cruel. I scrambled backward, knowing there was nowhere to run. With a final, desperate surge of strength, I lunged for my phone. I just needed to understand before I died. The moment my fingers closed around it, I saw it. And I was struck absolutely speechless. The reason for all of Zoe’s strange behavior and lies finally became clear in that instant. So that was it. The truth had been right in front of me all along.

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In my last life, my junior, Liana, came to me in tears, complaining that our Grandmaster was too strict, forcing her to practice five thousand sword strokes a day. I comforted her. “The Grandmaster means well. I trained just as hard, if not harder, to achieve the power I have today.” But Liana fled the Argent Spire in a fit of despair and fell victim to a terrible fate. When the First Brother, Kaelen, returned from his quest, he shattered my magical core with a single strike of his blade. “Liana is a gem, precious and rare,” he’d snarled. “You’re a mere Core Magus. What right do you have to flaunt your power in her presence?” I was crippled, cast out, and left to die a miserable death. When I next opened my eyes, I had been reborn, returned to the very moment Liana came to my door, weeping. 1 Knock. Knock. Knock. The frantic, tearful pounding on my chamber door was relentless. “Danielle! Sister, are you in there? Please, open the door!” The disruption nearly sent my own mana spiraling out of control. With a flick of my wrist, I wove a ward of silence around the room, sealing it from the outside world. The calming scent of sandalwood incense did little to soothe the tempest raging in my mind. I am Danielle, Second Sister of the Argent Spire. Above me is only the First Brother, Kaelen, a man who cares for nothing but his own path to power. Before our Grandmaster entered her seclusion for her final ascension, she charged me with managing the Spire’s disciples, and especially with looking after the youngest of us, Liana. That was why, in my past life, I had tolerated Liana’s rude, frantic knocking—an act that would have cost any other acolyte half their life force for its sheer disrespect. But I had excused her, thinking her new to the ways of magic. I had even tried to soothe her when she’d complained about the Grandmaster’s harsh training, sharing my own story as a form of encouragement. “When I first joined the Spire, the Grandmaster was even stricter with me,” I’d told her. “Eight thousand strokes a day, every single one perfect, or I would feel the sting of her training rod. Before I had even formed my magical foundation as an Adept, she pitted me against arcane beasts that had.” “So you see, little sister, she does it for your own good. Look at me. It was that same grueling practice that gave me the power I have today.” But after hearing my words, Liana had simply gotten up and run from the Spire. She was captured by a chaos mage, nearly drained of her soul to become his spiritual conduit. Though she was rescued, her magical affinity was damaged, and she burned with a deep-seated hatred for me. When Kaelen returned from his quest, he shattered my core. “Liana is a gem,” he’d said. “What right do you have to flaunt your power as a Core Magus?” Only then did I understand. My heartfelt advice, my attempt at camaraderie, had sounded like nothing but arrogant boasting to a girl who was not even a full-fledged Initiate. All the torture that followed began with those simple, well-intentioned words. I, who had sought nothing but the path to true power and ascension, was tormented and killed for a single sentence. Perhaps it was the unquenchable fire of my rage that granted me this second chance. The knocking outside continued for a long time before Liana finally gave up. Biting her lip, she turned and ran sobbing toward the training grounds, straight into the arms of Rhys. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and brimming with tears. “Third Brother…” Rhys’s heart immediately melted. “Little sister, what’s wrong?” Liana’s tears finally fell in a torrent of aggrieved sorrow. “Before she went into seclusion, the Grandmaster ordered me to practice five thousand sword strokes a day. I only managed five hundred today, and my wrist is already swollen like this. Look, Brother.” She pulled up her sleeve, revealing a bruised and purpled wrist. Rhys was instantly furious. “How could the Grandmaster be so cruel!” He lovingly applied a healing salve to her wrist. “She’s in seclusion anyway. It won’t matter if you rest for a couple of days. Besides, with your brother here to protect you, what do you have to fear?” Liana pouted. “But Second Sister Danielle is the same age as me, and she’s already a Core Magus. I haven’t even solidified my foundation as an Adept. I’m so useless.” Rhys scoffed. “You are a princess, cherished and adored. She was just an orphan the Grandmaster found in the wastes. How could she possibly compare to you?” A smile finally broke through Liana’s tears, though she feigned annoyance and gave Rhys a playful tap. “Don’t talk about my sister that way.” 2 I had no desire to watch any more of this cloying display. I withdrew my arcane senses, a coldness settling in my heart. So that was the correct answer. Coddle her, praise her, and never mind the consequences for her future. The injury on Liana’s wrist looked dramatic, but what blade-mage didn’t start their training with such pains? Those were not wounds to be healed; they were pains to be overcome. One had to train until the wrist adapted, until the pain ceased. To stop halfway was to reset all progress. But Rhys was a pure enchanter, a weaver of spells. He knew nothing of a warrior’s path. In my previous life, after my core was shattered, it was he who used his magic to rip out my arcane roots and graft them onto Liana, restoring her damaged potential. He had turned me into a cripple, forever barred from the path of magic. All because of one sentence. They had justified using me as a stepping stone for Liana’s glorious ascent. A bottomless hatred churned within me. Every person who had harmed me, who had tormented me in my past life… I would repay them all, one by one. I replayed the events of my past life in meticulous detail. My hand unconsciously drifted to the amulet I wore against my skin. It was a spatial artifact I had found in the Fae-touched Grotto of Taelus. Though I had bonded it with my blood, I could never enter its inner sanctum, the Hall of Legacy. Only an outer spring, filled with pure mana, was accessible to me. I focused my will and entered the amulet’s space, leaping into the mana spring. The raw, surging energy slammed into me, scouring my meridians, widening them. The pain was so intense I nearly blacked out, but I gritted my teeth and endured. My rate of mana absorption was now ten times faster than before. In my past life, I had listened to the words of a Nix, drinking only a single mouthful of the spring’s water each day. It improved my constitution, yes, but it was nowhere near enough to truly reforge my body and soul. My progress had been slow. After emerging from the amulet, I went into seclusion for another two weeks, solidifying my newfound power before finally stepping outside. I went to the deep pool in the back mountains and cast three enchanted stones into its depths. The water roiled, and a Nix with a magnificent blue tail surfaced. His beauty was breathtaking, but his eyes were filled with impatience. He swam to my side, his voice a low hiss. “Danielle, are you trying to get me killed? What took you so long to bring my elixir?” This was Corin, a Nix I had rescued from the Taelus Grotto. I had pulled him back from the brink of death with the finest potions, allowing him to recuperate here. Every month, I was to bring him a high-grade spirit elixir for his wounds. I smiled. “Corin, your temper grows shorter. The herbs for these potions are rare, and a spirit elixir of this grade is not easily brewed.” Seeing his entitled expression, I remembered the day I first met him. He had clutched at my robes, his face a mask of agony, begging me to save him. He had sworn to be my servant for life, to be eternally loyal. But at some point, he had entangled himself with Liana. He had even presented her with my amulet as a token of his love. I was cast out of the Spire, left with absolutely nothing. Just as I had before, I took out an elixir and offered it to him. Only this time, it was a poison that would rot his heart and lungs from the inside out. 3 The Nix thrashed in the water, his agony immense, before dragging himself onto the shore with his powerful tail. His handsome face was contorted in a grotesque mask of pain, blood streaming from his eyes, nose, and ears. His eyes were wide with disbelief. “Why? Why are you killing me?” he gasped. “Save me, Danielle… you just grabbed the wrong potion, right? Danielle, it hurts so much.” Corin reached a trembling hand toward me, his brilliant blue eyes shimmering with tears, a picture of vulnerable devotion. His beautiful tail was sliced open on the sharp rocks, blue blood seeping into the cracks. It was a tragically beautiful sight. “The ward on the Hall of Legacy inside the amulet,” I said, my voice calm. “It can only be broken with the heart’s blood of a Nix. Corin, you played me for a fool for so long.” His expression froze. He choked back his pain. “How… how did you know?” “I took pity on your weakness and never forced a magical bond of servitude,” I explained slowly. “And you, knowing full well how to unlock the amulet’s true power, only ever told me to bond it with my blood.” In my last life, when I was a cripple, he came to see me. I thought he was there to save me. Instead, he reached out, took the amulet from my neck, and smirked, glad he had been clever enough to hold back. He had scoffed at the life-debt he owed me, yet he gave himself completely to the delicate Liana, even offering his own heart’s blood to help her enter the Hall of Legacy. He’d feared she was too weak to be alone, so he voluntarily bonded himself to her as a servant, to protect her at all times. So thoughtful, so considerate in every way. Meanwhile, I was cast out, a dog without a home. So now, watching Corin’s dying struggles, the more he suffered, the more my heart soared with grim satisfaction. Seeing my resolve, he roared in fury. “I only kept it from you so I could survive! Besides, you had the mana spring, wasn’t that enough?” He was nearly spent, but he clung to a last shred of hope. “Save me, Danielle. When I’m healed, I’ll help you open the Hall. I promise.” “No,” I said. “When you’re healed, you’ll be running to Liana’s side. You swore a magical oath to be my servant, yet you lied to me from the very beginning. You were never loyal.” I picked up one of his fallen scales. Under his desperate, helpless gaze, I sliced open his chest. “The disloyal die.” 4 The Nix’s heart’s blood soaked the amulet, and I entered its space. The ward on the Hall of Legacy shattered. A vast, ancient power washed over me, a pressure so immense it sought to force me to my knees. My legs felt as if they were made of lead, but I gritted my teeth and took one step, then another. This was my destiny, my opportunity, stolen from me by Liana in my past life. I, with my brilliant talent and bright future, had suffered through twenty years of bitter training and dozens of life-or-death trials just to become a Core Magus. Liana had been at the Spire for a mere three years and had danced upon my corpse to become an Archon. I had given everything to the Spire, sacrificing my own training time to teach the disciples in the Grandmaster’s stead, brewing potions and elixirs for my brothers and sisters. And what did I get in return? The horrors of my past life flashed before my eyes. I clenched my fists. This life, I would live for myself! The great doors to the Hall of Legacy swung open, and the pressure vanished. Feeling light, I strode inside. There were eight sealed chambers within. In the center of the hall, a dull bronze sword floated in the air above a bronze statue of a god-like figure. This was the legacy of Aethelgard, the First Blade, a swordsman whose power had been unrivaled for millennia. In my past life, my First Brother, Kaelen, had ascended to near-godhood after finding just a fragment of Aethelgard’s teachings. The bronze sword drifted toward me, hovering before my eyes. I grasped its hilt. A divine light exploded in my mind, and the translucent, white-robed image of a man whose face I could not see appeared. His voice was a deep, divine hum. “After so many long years, one has finally arrived who is… moderately acceptable.” Before a true god, all mortals are but ants. I was drenched in sweat under his divine pressure, barely able to stand upright. “You have more backbone than the last one, at least.” Aethelgard continued, “I once favored you, but a parasite interfered. Now, you have been given a second chance. Do not disappoint me again.” With a flick of his finger, Aethelgard sent a sphere of memory into my consciousness. Only then did I understand the full truth of my past life. I thought my tragedy began with a single misunderstood sentence. But Liana had been filled with malice toward me from the very start. She was a transmigrator from another world, armed with a System. For every man she successfully seduced, she would be rewarded with a piece of my destiny, my power, my very life. I had felt guilty when she was captured by the chaos mage, but it turned out she had already “conquered” him, getting him to deliberately damage her magical affinity to gain more sympathy. This allowed her to manipulate the other men into tormenting me without mercy. The girl I thought was innocent and pure was a leech, fastened to my soul, draining me dry. I had treated her with such sincerity, and she had consumed me, flesh and bone. My rage nearly sent me into a berserker fury, but Aethelgard’s voice called me back. “Calm your heart.” “Everything in this Hall is yours to use. But only when you ascend to the higher realms will you be worthy of being called my disciple.” His image faded, but the divine power lingered in the air. I bowed to the empty space. “I will not fail you, my lord.” 5 I spent six months mastering Aethelgard’s sacred arts, only stepping out of my chambers once my power had stabilized. In front of the Hall of Trials, a crowd of disciples surrounded a beaming Liana, showering her with praise. “Little Sister, you’re amazing! You’re only a fifth-tier Initiate, and you’ve already tamed a Frost Serpent! Incredible!” A small, snow-white serpent was coiled around her wrist, biting its own tail to form a living bracelet. Liana blushed prettily. “It was all thanks to Third Brother. I just mentioned that the little snake was cute, and he took me to tame it.” Rhys, standing beside her, smiled faintly. “It is merely an Adept-level creature. One day, when I am an Ascendant who has passed the Trials, I will pluck a phoenix from the heavens for you to play with.” The crowd erupted in cheers. I let out a cold laugh. Both Rhys and Liana turned to look at me, and the other disciples quickly scrambled to look busy, feigning practice with their swords. “Our brother is certainly ambitious,” I said. “He hasn’t even reached the level of an Archon, yet he’s already planning for his time as an Ascendant.” Rhys’s brow furrowed in surprise. “It’s only been six months. You’re a mid-tier Core Magus?” Before I could answer, Liana rushed toward me with open arms. I blocked her with my sword. She stared at me with wide, innocent eyes that seemed on the verge of tears. “Sister, I just haven’t seen you in so long, I wanted to be close to you. I didn’t think you would despise me so.” I sheathed my sword and walked around her. “I do not enjoy physical contact.” As I passed, I heard the voice of the System in her mind. [Primary Target Corin: Deceased. Spatial Amulet must be retrieved by Host.] I scanned her with my arcane senses but couldn’t find a trace of the System. It must be hidden within her consciousness. Liana quickly moved to block my path, her face a mask of shock. “Sister, that amulet on your chest… it looks just like the one my mother left me before she died. But I was foolish and lost it somewhere.” I glanced down. The amulet, which I kept tucked against my skin, was somehow visible. She stared at it, her voice breaking. “I’m so useless. I couldn’t even keep my mother’s only memento safe.” I saw the shifting expressions on the faces of the disciples around us and smiled. Liana had all but branded the word “thief” on my forehead. “You are indeed foolish,” I said calmly. Liana’s eyes widened, as if she’d misheard. “What?” I repeated myself. “I said you are foolish, stupid, weak, and utterly useless.” My gaze swept over the assembled disciples. Not one of them dared to meet my eyes. “In this entire Spire, you are the only one still at the Initiate level. Disciples who joined after you have already become Adepts. Tell me, does that not make you a standard-issue fool?” Liana’s body trembled violently, and tears streamed down her face. Rhys stepped in front of her, his voice a low command. “Danielle, that’s enough! Liana is delicate. It’s normal for her to take longer to adapt. To speak so cruelly over a simple amulet—is this how a senior sister should act?” From behind him, Liana offered a “kind” explanation. “Sister, I know you didn’t take the amulet on purpose, but it’s the only thing I have to remember my mother by. Here, I’ll trade you. Take the Grandmaster’s gift to me, the Gossamer Butterfly Robes.” Rhys looked pained. “Sister, how can you debase yourself like this? It’s clearly…” “Third Brother, please, say no more. The Gossamer Butterfly Robes may be a superior-grade artifact, but in my heart, they are not worth a fraction of my mother’s memory.” “The amulet is a memento from her mother, Danielle,” Rhys said, turning to me and holding out his hand expectantly. “I suggest you return it to her, and we can let this matter drop.” The two of them, a perfectly rehearsed duet. I narrowed my eyes. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

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On my prenatal check-up day, Eric was too busy, so Althea—his so-called “childhood friend”—drove me. She suddenly jerked the wheel. Metal screamed as we crashed into a semi-truck. The world collapsed around us. I didn’t call Eric, an ER doctor. I called 911 and waited. Because last time, I called him first. He saved our baby, but Althea bled out and died. He pretended not to blame me, even arranging a private room for my recovery. Then, on the day I was discharged, he took me to Althea’s grave—and stabbed me. My baby died instantly. As I bled out, his eyes burned with hatred. “If you hadn’t grabbed the wheel, Althea would still be alive!” he hissed, twisting the knife. “A life for a life.” My blood splattered across her headstone. Then—I woke up back in the wrecked car. … A violent jolt, and the searing, twisting pain in my abdomen dragged me back to reality. I had been reborn. My hands trembled as I fumbled for my phone in my purse. This time, I didn’t call my husband, the brilliant ER doctor. I dialed 911. The ambulance arrived quickly. Eric, of course, was the first responder on site, sprinting past the passenger side, straight to the driver’s door. Only after he had carefully lifted Althea from the wreckage did I dare to whisper for help to the other paramedics. One of his colleagues, a woman I recognized, shot me a disgusted look. “Really, Leah? Now is not the time for your games,” she snapped, her face a mask of disapproval. My strength gave out. My hands slipped from my belly, and the weight of my pregnancy slammed me against the back of the front seat. A warm, sticky wetness spread beneath me, staining the fabric of my maternity dress a horrifying crimson. They didn’t even glance my way. Gritting my teeth, I used every last ounce of my will to crawl out of the shattered rear window. But every piece of emergency equipment—the oxygen masks, the IV drips, the heart monitors—was being used on Althea. Eric never once looked at me. I heard him mutter, “Serves her right.” A cold sweat drenched my body. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. It was everywhere—under me, in me. With every passing second, I could feel the baby’s heartbeat growing fainter, a tiny drum slowing to a stop. In my past life, I had called him screaming, and Althea had been on the phone with him too. He chose me then, because of the baby. He rushed me to the hospital. By the time he returned to the crash, the police had already towed the car away. Althea’s body was lying on the roadside, covered by a white sheet, dead from blood loss. He had been so calm when he told me. “It’s not your fault,” he’d said, his voice steady. He even upgraded me to a lavish private suite to “rest and recover.” And then, he’d murdered me on her grave. “Althea wasn’t just my friend, Leah,” he had hissed, the knife twisting in my gut. “She was my life. Do you have any idea what it feels like to bleed out? Don’t worry. You’re about to.” This time, I just wanted to escape. But even now, he refused to spare me. He wouldn’t even grant me the mercy of a single piece of medical equipment. My dress was soaked through, and I was lying in a rapidly expanding pool of my own blood. My voice was a faint rasp. “Please… my baby… save my baby…” The nearest nurse finally seemed to notice me. She glanced over, a cruel smirk playing on her lips. She bent down and patronizingly patted my swollen belly. “Leah, honey, the drama’s getting a little old, don’t you think? Everyone at the hospital knows you’re jealous of Eric’s friend. But to pull a stunt like this while you’re pregnant? Seriously?” “Even if you don’t care about yourself, think of your child. Is a man really worth having a death on your conscience? Right now, you should be praying that Miss Miller is okay. Because if she’s not, with how close she and Eric are, you can bet he’ll file for divorce.” I knew Eric didn’t love me. But I never imagined his colleagues saw me this way, as a manipulative, hysterical shrew. The cramps in my belly intensified, stealing my breath, silencing me completely. The blood flowed out of me, a relentless tide. Every single medic was gathered around Althea. Not one person checked on me. Just as my vision started to tunnel from blood loss, I heard a gasp nearby. “Whoa! That’s… that’s a lot of blood. Oh God, you don’t think she’s actually hurt, do you?” “Nah, it’s an act,” another voice scoffed. “She’s trying to guilt-trip Eric into leaving his friend and running to her. She caused this whole mess. Ask Eric if you don’t believe me.” Finally, Eric’s footsteps approached. But not to save me. He kicked my head, his voice laced with venomous impatience. “Leah, have you had enough? I’m here now. You can stop pretending.” “What is wrong with you? You grab the steering wheel, cause a crash, and end up like this, all so I’ll feel sorry for you? I’ve told you a thousand times, Althea is my friend. That’s it. Do you enjoy this?” “I’ve explained everything. Believe it or not, I don’t care anymore!” To him, I was still the villain who had caused the crash, a madwoman using my own child’s life as a pawn. Despair washed over me, a cold wave extinguishing the last embers of hope. I was too broken to even try to explain. I just grabbed his ankle, a desperate, silent plea for him to see that this wasn’t an act, that I was dying. He paused for only a second before a cold, cynical laugh escaped his lips. He lifted the hem of my bloody dress. “The blood pack looks pretty realistic,” he sneered. “If Althea hadn’t told me you were planning something, I might have actually fallen for it.” With that, he turned and walked away without a second glance. The whispers of the paramedics floated around me. “Wait… that doesn’t look like blood from a pack, does it?” “You think the baby’s really in trouble?” “Forget it. Althea said she got it from the hospital’s blood bank, of course it looks real. If she wants to play make-believe, let her. She’ll be the one who kills her own kid.” Someone, tired of the spectacle, kicked me in the side. The impact flipped me over, and my face slammed into the gritty asphalt. Darkness consumed me. In the blackness, a dream took me back to the day I first met Eric. He was giving a lecture at my university on emergency first aid, a star doctor from the city’s top hospital. Tall, handsome, brilliant—he captured the hearts of half the girls in the auditorium. Including me. It was love at first sight. I did everything I could to find a way to talk to him. I was still in college then, a naive kid in his sophisticated world. He turned down every other girl who approached him, but he accepted my friend request. He told me he saw his friend in me, a shared innocence. I didn’t understand then. The very thing that made me special in his eyes was also the cage he’d built for me. I didn’t know about his twisted history with Althea. I was just ecstatic, thinking I was the one. For that scrap of his attention, I pursued him relentlessly. He never said yes, but he never said no, either. I mistook his tolerance for encouragement and fell deeper and deeper. After the hundredth time I asked him out, he finally agreed. I’ll never forget the pure joy of that day. I had no idea it was the beginning of a nightmare. Once we were together, he grew colder, always finding excuses to avoid intimacy. It was for my own good, he said. We should wait until after the wedding. I loved him, so I believed him. Then, the night before our wedding, an email arrived from Althea. That’s when I learned the truth. He wouldn’t touch me because I looked like her. Her email was a brutal collage of their ten-year love affair. They couldn’t be together because their families disapproved, so they’d made a pact to remain “friends” forever, always in each other’s lives. And he had chosen me, the perfect stand-in. Looking at a decade of their shared memories, my heart shattered. On our wedding night, Eric got drunk. For the first time, he came to me willingly. And at the height of his passion, he whispered her name. Althea. I swallowed my tears and played my part. Even after Althea’s supposed death in the other timeline, when he seemed so calm, I thought he had finally moved on. I thought my time had finally come. But as I died by his hand, the truth became brutally clear. From start to finish, I was nothing but a replacement. A convenient cover for his undying love for Althea. When I woke up, I was in a hospital room. It wasn’t Eric by my bedside, but a stranger. “Are you okay?” he asked, his brow furrowed with concern. “I was driving by the accident. I saw you lying there all alone and brought you here. I was going to call an ambulance, but some guy said they’d already come and gone…” His voice hardened with anger. “I don’t know what’s wrong with those paramedics. Leaving a person bleeding on the ground! And all those people just standing around, watching… If I hadn’t brought you in, you might be dead right now!” I tried to move, my limbs stiff and sore. I placed a hand on my stomach and froze. The familiar, rounded firmness was gone. “I’m so sorry,” the man said, his voice soft with pity. “I got here too late. The doctors said… they said the baby was likely gone at the scene.” A bitter smile twisted my lips. I shook my head. “Thank you for bringing me here. It’s not your fault. I know.” After a long silence, he poured me a glass of water. “Why were you, a pregnant woman, out in a car by yourself? Doesn’t your family care?” He paused. “The baby’s father should be here. Give me his number, I’ll call him. These doctors have no professional ethics! I can’t leave you here alone. I’m going to post about this online, expose them. These… these cancers of the medical profession need to be cut out!” Remembering Eric’s cold, sneering face as he walked away, I said flatly, “The baby’s father is dead.” The man, thinking he’d stumbled onto a fresh wound, immediately started apologizing. I drank the water and told him it was fine. He wanted to stay and look after me, but I insisted he leave after I transferred him the money for the hospital fees. He had barely walked out the door when a nurse came in to change my IV drip. She glanced at the name on my chart. “Your name is Leah, too?” she asked, her voice cautious. “What a coincidence. One of our doctors, Eric Cole, his wife has the same name. Do you know him?” I shook my head. She let out a visible sigh of relief. “Oh, good. I hear his wife is… not a very nice person. Nothing like you, you seem so quiet and gentle…” I said nothing. After she left, I pulled out my phone and checked the news. The kind stranger had kept his word. His post about the ER team’s negligence had gone viral. A photo of me, lying helpless at the crash site, was trending. The comments were a firestorm of outrage against the hospital. A hospital employee tried to do damage control, explaining that I was a doctor’s wife. That only poured gasoline on the fire. A doctor’s wife doesn’t deserve to be saved? So it’s okay to just leave your own family to die at an accident scene? If a doctor can’t even be trusted to care for his own injured wife and child, how can any patient trust him with their life? Someone else posted a photo they’d taken from another angle. It clearly showed Eric kicking me. The internet exploded. People flooded the hospital’s official social media accounts, demanding answers. I liked every single one of their comments. I was about to text Eric about the divorce when I saw Althea’s post from two hours earlier. It was a photo of Eric, his gaze filled with a tenderness I had never seen, carefully cleaning a small cut on her hand. The caption read: “So lucky you’re my friend for life, my family without blood ties. Not even death can part us.” I casually liked her post. A second later, my phone rang. It was Eric. “Leah, what the hell is your problem?” he roared. “Why are you harassing Althea? If you have an issue, you take it up with me! She barely survived what you did today, and you’re still going after her? You push her again, and I swear, we are done!” “I put up with your nonsense before, but you don’t get to play with people’s lives! Do you even realize what you did? That’s attempted murder! Are you insane?” “Althea said she forgives you, but that doesn’t mean I do! I’m giving you one last chance. Apologize to her. Now.” Before I could speak, I heard Althea’s theatrical sobs in the background. “Eric, stop, don’t blame her. It was my fault. If I had just let her have the wheel when she grabbed for it, this wouldn’t have happened. Pregnant women get emotional, I understand.” Eric’s voice softened with pity. “You’re my friend, Althea. Why should you have to put up with this? She’s an outsider. What right does she have to treat you like this? Don’t enable her. This time, she needs to learn her lesson.” While the two of them continued their nauseating drama, I spoke, my voice calm and clear. “Fine. Let’s get a divorce. I agree. This outsider won’t get in your way anymore.” Eric was stunned into silence. He clearly hadn’t expected me to be the one to end it. After a two-second pause, his rage erupted. I hung up before he could start screaming. I hadn’t even had time to block his number before a flood of texts came through. “You’re the one who caused the crash by grabbing the wheel. I haven’t even blamed you yet, and you have the nerve to ask for a divorce?” “You’re a murderer, Leah. You should be on your knees thanking me for not calling the cops. Don’t push your luck.” “Get those posts offline. Now. Don’t make me expose you for the psycho you really are.” I didn’t read any more. I deleted the messages and blocked his number. Later, the nurses who came to check on me were chatting amongst themselves, unaware of my identity. “Did you see the news online? I heard it’s Dr. Cole’s wife acting up again. Talk about having the same name but different fates. If she were half as gentle as our Leah here, none of this would be happening.” “I know, right? They’ve been friends for over ten years. What is she so jealous about? She must be mentally ill. That would explain why she’d cause a car crash on purpose.” “Poor Dr. Cole and his friend, getting stuck with a lunatic like that…” I listened numbly, nodding along when it seemed appropriate. But the online furor was too intense. The truth was bound to come out. The hospital administration figured out who I was. A few of them came to “visit” me, gently probing to see if I would be willing to make a public statement to clear the air. They said Eric had taken an emergency leave of absence and they couldn’t reach him. I refused every time. Eventually, they stopped asking and just started blaming me, muttering that I had brought this all on myself. Then, the hospital released an official video, shifting the entire blame for the accident onto my shoulders. To minimize the PR damage, they concealed the fact that I had been seriously injured and had a miscarriage. They painted a picture of a jealous, hysterical wife who had staged a car crash to hurt her husband’s friend, wasting precious medical resources and subjecting their star doctor to a vicious online mob. The same people who had championed my cause turned on me instantly. Learning I was supposedly just a jealous wife, they questioned my sanity. The mob that had attacked the ER department now directed all their venom at me. I became a pariah. They even started an online group, a “Take Down the Venomous Wife Alliance,” or something equally charming. Every few days, a new group of them would show up outside my hospital room to scream obscenities and throw things at my door. Through it all, I never said a word in my own defense. I was waiting. Waiting for the day Eric and Althea’s “friendship” was exposed for what it truly was, and for the world to see their reaction. The day the doctor told me I could be discharged, I unblocked Eric’s number and sent him a single text. “City Hall. Tomorrow. For the divorce.” I was about to block him again when his call came through. “You have the nerve to message me?” he spat. “What, now that you’re the most hated woman on the internet, you finally realize you were wrong? It’s too late for regrets.” “A divorce? Fine by me! I’m sick of you, you psycho! You’re a goddamn lunatic! And don’t even think about seeing the child after it’s born. A monster like you doesn’t deserve to be a mother.” He hung up before I could say a word. I called a mechanic and asked him to retrieve and copy the dashcam footage from my car. The next morning, I arrived at City Hall on time. And there, at the entrance, was Althea. Her eyes dropped to my stomach, and her face broke into a mask of feigned surprise. “Oh, my. What happened to the little bastard? Such a shame. But with a mother who can’t even keep her man, it was probably doomed from the start. A short, pathetic life for a short, pathetic reason. Even if it had been born, it would have just been another fatherless orphan…” Before my brain could even process the words, my hand had already flown across her face. I hadn’t even hit her that hard, but she crumpled to the ground, fat tears instantly welling in her eyes. “Althea!” Eric rushed past me from behind, shoving me so hard I stumbled backward into the middle of the street. A car screeched to a halt, its bumper inches from my head. He cradled Althea in his arms, then, as if remembering something, he whipped his head around to look at me. His gaze fell on my now-flat stomach, and all the color drained from his face. “The baby,” he choked out. “Where’s the baby?!” I struggled to my feet, a grim satisfaction blooming in my chest as I watched the panic dawn on his face. “The baby? You remember you had a child?” I asked, my voice dripping with ice. “You said I don’t deserve to be a mother. Do you deserve to be a father? When I was bleeding out after the crash, where were you? When the entire world was calling me a monster, where were you? When I was on an operating table, unconscious, needing my husband’s signature for emergency surgery, where were you, Eric?” His face grew paler with every word. My voice dropped to a frigid whisper. “The baby is gone, Eric. Thanks to you.” “And now, our marriage is, too.” A flicker of panic crossed his eyes, but it was quickly swallowed by rage. “Don’t you dare try to play the victim here! You brought all of this on yourself!” “You caused that accident! Althea was the one who was nearly killed, and she’s the one who forgave you! And now you have the audacity to try and pin this on me?” “Leah, how did I never see how shameless you are?” He took a step closer, his voice a low growl. “What happened to the baby? I’m asking you one last time.” A small crowd had started to gather. Someone recognized me from the news. The pointing and muttering began. “That’s her! The psycho wife who tried to kill someone out of jealousy!” “Look at her, she looks so normal. How can she be so evil?” “Dr. Cole must have the worst luck in the world, getting stuck with a venomous snake like her. If I were him, I’d have had a heart attack by now!” “And she has the nerve to blame him? After what she did? She almost killed someone! I thought this only happened in soap operas. They should lock her up in a mental hospital before she hurts someone else!” …

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To force me to break our engagement, my fiancée drove my father’s company into bankruptcy, saddling us with millions in debt. The shock triggered a heart attack, and my father was rushed into intensive care. As I knelt and begged my fiancée for the money to cover his surgery, my childhood friend, Sara, suddenly returned from overseas. She arranged for the best doctors and stayed by my side, keeping a tireless vigil at my father’s bedside. But a week later, my father suffered another, more severe heart attack. To give him peace in his final moments, Sara knelt before his bed and swore an oath to marry me, to love and cherish me for the rest of her life. After the funeral, my heart a hollowed-out shell, I officially broke off the engagement. Instead, I married my childhood friend, Sara. Five years later, however, I overheard a conversation between her and my ex-fiancée. “I have to hand it to you, Sara, your move was brilliant. You got that leech, Leo, to give up on me, just like that. But I wonder… what do you think he’d do if he knew you were the one who killed his father? Would he want to kill you?” … My hand froze on the handle of the VIP lounge door. Inside, my ex-fiancée’s mocking voice dripped with venom. “You’re a real piece of work. Leo grew up with you, treated you like his own sister. I bet he’d never guess in a million years that the person who destroyed his father’s company was you.” “And honestly, if it wasn’t for Johnny’s sake, I never would have taken the fall for you all these years. I may have hated Leo, but I’d never stoop low enough to drive a man to his grave.” A glass slammed onto the table. Sara’s voice, thick with wine and fury, cut through the air. “What I owe Leo, I will spend the rest of my life repaying. I only helped you back then because I wanted Johnny to be happy. If you dare betray him, if you make him shed a single tear, I will end you.” My ex-fiancée let out a derisive little laugh. “Such devotion. It’s a shame he met me first. You’d better focus on protecting your precious Leo. After all, you have his father’s death on your conscience. Be careful he doesn’t come back to haunt you in your sleep.” CRASH! A glass shattered against the door, fragments exploding across the floor. Footsteps rushed toward the door. I took a sharp breath and fled, my heart pounding as I stumbled down to the bar. I grabbed a glass of whiskey and threw it back. The unfamiliar liquor burned a path down my throat, stinging my eyes with tears I refused to let fall. Her words echoed in my mind, a torturous loop. The person who had ruined my father wasn’t my fiancée. It was Sara—the same Sara who had paid for his surgery. The sudden heart attack that killed him a week later… it must have been because of something she said. No wonder. No wonder Dad had stared at her with such intensity just before he passed. I had been so naive, thinking it was a look of gratitude, of entrusting me to her care. The woman I had shared a bed with for five years, the wife I had cherished and placed on a pedestal, was the one who had indirectly murdered my father. And our entire marriage, all her feigned love and affection, was nothing more than a twisted form of penance. A pathetic attempt at “compensation.” What a fucking joke. Grief and rage churned within me, a toxic storm in my soul. My gaze fell on the glass in my hand when, suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped around me from behind. Sara buried her face in my neck, her warm breath ghosting over my skin. Her voice was a soft, drunken murmur, filled with a tenderness that now felt like poison. “Leo, you were gone so long… I missed you… Let’s go home. Leo, I love you… I love you so, so much…” For years, whenever she was drunk, she would whisper these words to me. Her friends always said it was the truth coming out, that she was head-over-heels in love with me. Now, it was all just a grotesque parody. I gently pried her arms off me and guided her to the car, my touch devoid of its usual warmth. She collapsed onto my lap, her brow smoothing as her breathing evened out. She seemed to be asleep. “Johnny… Johnny… why didn’t you choose me? Why…” This time, I heard it clearly. The name that haunted her dreams, the name I had never been able to place. Johnny. Johnny Croft. The man who had stolen my fiancée. And, as I now realized, the great, unattainable love of Sara’s life. She had never forgotten him. She had even married me, putting on this elaborate show of affection, all for him. I had tragically underestimated the depth of her love for Johnny Croft. A phone clattered from her pocket onto the car floor. As I bent to pick it up, the screen lit up with a new message. Johnny: Sara, thanks for covering for me tonight. But I can’t accept the necklace. It’s too much. A second later, I saw a new post on Johnny’s social media feed: “Love is priceless.” The photo was of a stunning, diamond-encrusted necklace—the very one that had made headlines for being sold to a mysterious billionaire for a million dollars at a Geneva auction. A one-of-a-kind piece. I knew, with a sickening certainty, that he had posted it for me to see. Just last week, Sara had been working so hard she’d forgotten to eat, collapsing with a stomach ulcer that landed her in the emergency room. The moment she was discharged, she flew to Geneva. At the time, I was both furious and heartbroken that she would risk her health for her job. Now I knew the truth. She hadn’t gone for work. She had gone for an auction. Even doubled over in pain, she had to be there to buy the most precious necklace in the world and lay it at the feet of her one true love. My fingers moved as if possessed, typing in the screen lock password. The final digit went in. The phone unlocked. It was Johnny’s birthday. Sara had always been fiercely protective of her phone, insisting on “personal space.” Now I knew why. As the screen came to life, Johnny’s handsome, smiling face filled the wallpaper. No wonder her expression always softened whenever she unlocked her phone. I opened her photo gallery. It was a shrine. Album after album, meticulously labeled. Johnny, Age 10. Johnny, Age 11. … Johnny, Age 25. Thousands of photos, each capturing a different moment of Johnny’s life, his smile, his triumphs. There wasn’t a single picture of me. Not even one of herself. Only Johnny. Just like her heart. From the very beginning, it had only ever held Johnny. I opened her notes app and found her diary. June 12, 20XX. Sunny. Johnny scraped his leg on a branch today. It’s all my fault. I never should have planted those trees in the yard. October 3, 20XX. Sunny. Johnny got married today. As long as he’s happy, anything I do is worth it. My entire existence is for his happiness. May 21, 20XX. Rain. I got married. When I saw Johnny in the crowd, for a moment, I wished so desperately that he was the one standing beside me. The car pulled into our driveway. I looked up at the barren front yard, and an icy chill spread through my limbs. There used to be two magnificent peach trees in that yard. Sara had them transplanted from my family’s old estate, the ones my father had planted for me on my tenth birthday. Every time I looked at them, I felt like he was still with me, that he had never left. Then one day, the trees, once laden with fruit, suddenly withered. Their roots had inexplicably rotted away. Sara held me for three days and nights as I wept, whispering reassurances. Now I knew. It was her. She had destroyed the last living piece of my father that I had left. A new message popped up on her phone, this one from her assistant. [Assistant]: Ms. Vance, as per your instructions, the final draft of your will is complete. All assets are to be left to Mr. Johnny Croft. [Assistant]: It is ready for your signature to be executed. Through a blur of tears, a memory surfaced. The woman at the funeral, holding me, her voice thick with emotion as she made her promise. “Leo, I will give you a home. Everything I have is yours.” I carried Sara to our bed. But this time, I didn’t gently remove her shoes or tuck her in. I turned and walked straight to the guest room, closing the door behind me. I shut my eyes, but all I could see were flashes of her “love” for me over the past five years. A montage of lies. Sunlight streamed into the room, waking me. I opened my eyes to find Sara gazing at me, her expression a mask of tender concern. She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Leo, were you angry last night? I’m sorry, I had a little too much to drink at the event. I promise it won’t happen again.” The same gentle performance as always. “Mm,” I grunted, pushing her away before heading to the bathroom to wash the lingering warmth of her kiss from my skin. The breakfast table was laden with food. A year ago, this would have filled me with joy. But after reading her diary, I felt nothing but a hollow ache. This entire spread… it was all Johnny’s favorite food. The front door clicked open, and Johnny himself walked in, dressed in a sharp, tailored suit. He strolled to the table as if he owned the place. He offered me a slight, knowing smile. “Leo, sorry to intrude. Sara and I have a photoshoot this morning, so she invited me over for breakfast.” I said nothing, my eyes fixed on the house key in his hand, identical to mine. Sara, ever perceptive, sensed the shift in my mood. She leaned close, her voice a low whisper. “Johnny is our best friend, Leo. It’s normal for him to have a key…” She didn’t finish. Her voice changed, a note of alarm cutting through her whisper as she shot up from her seat and snatched a glass of soy milk from Johnny’s hand. “Johnny, you can’t drink that! How many years has it been? You still can’t remember?” He pursed his lips, a smirk playing on his face. “I know. Good thing I’ve had you to look after me all these years.” They stared at each other, lost in a moment so intimate they might as well have been the only two people in the room. I had no interest in watching their maudlin display. As I turned to leave, Johnny called out to me. “Leo, I remember you studied photography. Could you shoot for me today? I don’t really trust the new guy.” I hadn’t touched a camera since my father died. He was the one who taught me everything I knew. The moment I held a camera, all I could see was his face in those final moments—frail, defeated, his eyes pleading. I hadn’t found the courage to press the shutter since. Sara knew this. She had locked all my camera equipment away, telling me not to force it, that she would be there for me until I was ready to pick it up again. But now, before I could even refuse, she was pushing me toward the car. “Leo, you know Johnny gets carsick. You’ll have to sit in the back, okay?” She had forgotten. My motion sickness was far worse than his. Having barely touched my breakfast, my stomach churned violently the entire ride. When we arrived, Sara was already fussing over Johnny, smoothing his suit jacket and taking his arm as she led him into the studio. I leaned against the car, gasping for fresh air. “Leo, the shoot is about to start,” Sara’s voice was sharp as she grabbed my arm, yanking me inside. “Be good, don’t be difficult. This shoot is very important for Johnny and his company.” I lost my balance, stumbling, nearly crashing to the floor. Holding the camera after five years felt alien and terrifying. My hands trembled. I fought back the wave of grief and despair, forcing myself to press the shutter, again and again. During a break, the studio emptied out, leaving just Johnny and me. He scrolled through the photos on the camera’s display, a contemptuous smile curling his lips. “You know, Leo, you’re just like your father. A complete failure. Can’t do anything right.” He clicked his tongue. “Like father, like son.” My nails dug into my palms, a tremor running through my body as rage threatened to boil over. SLAP! A searing, fiery pain exploded across my cheek. Johnny shook his hand, looking down at me with pure disdain. “You’re shameless, Leo. I can’t believe after getting dumped, you immediately latched onto Sara. What part of you is worthy of her? Let me make it clear: your ex, Sara… they’re both mine.” “You are not worthy.” My head was still ringing from the blow when he suddenly grabbed my hand, slapped it against his own face, and theatrically threw himself backward onto a nearby table. He clutched his cheek, his eyes welling with tears, his expression one of pure, wounded innocence. A complete transformation. “Leo, I didn’t mean you were a bad photographer… I just wanted you to try a different angle… If you didn’t want to, you could have just said so…” The door swung open. A water glass fell from Sara’s hand, shattering on the floor. She rushed past me, pushing me aside as she knelt to check on Johnny. “Sara, I’m fine,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “Please don’t blame Leo. It wasn’t his fault, I just lost my footing.” “Johnny, you’re too kind! You don’t have to cover for him. I saw it with my own eyes!” Sara gently helped Johnny to his feet, treating him as if he were made of delicate porcelain. She wrapped an arm around him, her gaze, when it finally turned to me, was blazing with a fury I had never seen before in our five years of marriage. “Leo, apologize to Johnny! Now! I have spoiled you for the last five years, and it has turned you into a monster!” she seethed. “You know how important his face is for his image!” She stared at me, her eyes filled with rage, completely blind to the red, swelling handprint on my own cheek. I lifted my head, my gaze meeting hers, my voice unnervingly calm. “The one who should be apologizing is Johnny Croft, not me. He brought up my father. And speaking of which, Sara, isn’t there something you should apologize for regarding what happened to my father?” A flicker of shock, of guilt, crossed her eyes. “If it weren’t for me back then, Dad would have died even sooner. Leo, I promised him I would take care of you for the rest of your life, but that was on the condition that you would never, ever hurt Johnny.” A bitter, self-mocking smile touched my lips. I should have known better than to expect anything from her. The world suddenly tilted, and a wave of blackness washed over me. I felt myself falling backward, and then there was nothing.

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When the Comanches came for Stone Creek, my wife, Emma, had taken the entire town posse to the chapel. Not to pray, but to celebrate the new preacher’s Saint’s Day. The mayor begged me to ride out and bring her back. I refused. In my last life, I’d spurred my horse down the treacherous back trail, dragged Emma from the preacher’s side, and returned just in time to save the town. But the preacher, her shining ideal, was captured by a few stray raiders. They tortured him, then left his body in the woods for the wolves. Emma hunted down those raiders herself. When she returned, she locked herself in our room for three days. She never spoke of it again. Not until the territory, hearing of my “heroism,” offered me the preacher’s position as captain of the posse. The day our son was born, Emma slipped laudanum into my drink. She broke my legs. She took a scalpel to my belly and threw my insides into the woods for the beasts to devour. “It was you,” she’d whispered, her voice a venomous hiss. “You conspired with them, all for your own glory. You murdered him.” “Since you love playing the hero so much, you can die like one, too.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the raid began. This time, if she wanted to protect her preacher, I’d let her. … The moment the first arrow splintered the barn door, I smelled the familiar, acrid tang of gunpowder. God, the damned déjà vu. I scrambled for the door, pulling it open just as Mayor Thompson stumbled in. “Jedediah! The Comanches are upon us! Rally the posse!” Before I could answer, his wife, Martha, rushed in behind him, her face pale. “Frank, I’ve looked everywhere! The men are gone! The rifles from the posse’s office… they’re all missing!” A crowd of the town’s women followed her, their faces etched with terror. The mayor was stunned. “Gone? Where in God’s name did they go?” As the only one who knew, I had to be the one to tell them. “Emma took them. To the chapel, for Reverend Silas’s Saint’s Day.” “Folly!” the mayor roared. “The circuit judge just warned us of increased raiding parties! He ordered constant patrols, and she takes them off their posts for a celebration?” The women erupted in a chorus of curses, damning Emma’s name for luring their husbands away. Another volley of rifle fire cracked through the air. Screams echoed through the small town. The mayor, a veteran of the war, didn’t flinch. “The rest of you men, get to the drawbridge and raise it! Women and children, into the old silver mine! Don’t come out until you hear a friendly voice!” Our town was nestled in a valley. There were two ways in. The main road led to a heavy wooden drawbridge spanning Black Gulch, a relic from the town’s founding days, built to keep out rustlers and raiders. Once raised, it was nearly impossible to lower from the outside. The other way was a treacherous switchback trail behind the mountain. It was narrow and winding, a single misstep sending horse and rider plunging to their deaths. It was a faster route to the next town, a half-hour ride, but no one ever used it. After giving his orders, the mayor turned to me. “Jed, you know that back trail. You’re the best rider we have. Take the trail, find them, and bring the posse back. For God’s sake, hurry.” I clenched my jaw. “Mayor, I can go, but I fear it’ll be for nothing. Emma will stop them. She won’t let them come with me.” A heavy silence fell over the group. Ever since Reverend Silas had arrived to lead our congregation, it was as if my wife’s eyes were fixed on him and him alone. The whole town knew we fought about it constantly. As their gazes burned into me, my brother-in-law, Leo, stepped forward, saving me. “I’ll go. I know the trail, too. If Jed and my sister start arguing, we’ll lose precious time.” The mayor nodded, and Leo didn’t waste a second, running to fetch his horse. Martha led the women toward the mine shaft to wait for a rescue that might never come. I went with the mayor to defend the drawbridge. An hour and a half later, Leo returned. He appeared at the mouth of the mine, and a cheer went up from the women, thinking the posse was with him. But his face was as white as a sheet. “They won’t come back,” he choked out. The women stared, bewildered. “Why?” Tears streamed down Leo’s face. “They said I was lying. Emma… she said I was in on it with you, Jed, trying to trick everyone. I got on my knees and begged, but they just called me a disgrace.” He broke down, sobbing from the weight of the humiliation. His grief infected the crowd, and they began cursing Silas, calling him a plague on the town. A so-called man of God who did nothing but chase another man’s wife. Before the cursing could die down, a tremendous BOOM shook the earth. The raiders had dynamite. They were going to blow the bridge supports. “What do we do now?” someone wailed. “Are we all going to die in here?” Seeing the terror on their faces, I had an idea. “If our posse won’t come, we can get help from another town.” “I’ll go!” Leo cried, not even wiping the tears from his face. But as he tried to stand, he stumbled, his leg buckling beneath him. We forced him to sit and pulled up his trouser leg. His shin was swollen to the size of a melon. He shamefully admitted he’d taken a fall, pushing his horse too hard on the trail. “It’s nothing,” he insisted, trying to stand again. “I can still ride.” I pushed him back down firmly. “No. You stay here. I’ll go.” Ignoring their protests, I swung myself onto my horse. The mayor ran after me. “Jed! You have to get back with help in two hours! The bridge won’t hold much longer than that!” I nodded grimly and rode hard. Halfway down the trail, a figure darted out from the trees. I reined in my horse just in time. My eyes widened as I saw who it was: Marshal Thorne, the lawman from the neighboring town of Redemption. I dismounted, a wave of relief washing over me. “Thorne! Thank God. What are you doing out here?” I was about to explain our dire situation when he suddenly grabbed my arm, twisting it behind my back in a painful hold. Thorne sneered, his voice cold. “Waiting for you, Jed.” A sharp pain shot up my arm. “What are you talking about?” “Aren’t you on your way to meet the raiders?” His expression was one of pure disgust. “Your wife rode out at dawn. Told me to wait for you on this trail. Said you’d come this way to parley with them. Jedediah, your father was a legend who hunted men like these to the ends of the earth. And you, brought so low by jealousy you’d conspire with them? You shame his name!” My mind went numb. The words were English, but it took a long moment for them to register. In my last life, as Emma killed me, she had said the same thing. That I had summoned the raiders myself, all to seize the posse captaincy from Silas. That I had orchestrated his murder. In that instant, I knew. Emma had been reborn, too. That’s why she had ignored Leo’s desperate pleas. She had done more than just ignore them; she had cut off our only path to salvation. There was no time to defend my honor. I swallowed my pride. “Thorne, I’m not conspiring with anyone. The Comanches have hit Stone Creek. They have dynamite, and they’re blowing the bridge. Our posse is gone. Emma took them to celebrate with Silas.” “You have to get your men. Please, ride to Stone Creek and help us. If you don’t, the whole town will be lost.” My earnestness must have given him pause. He stared at me for a few seconds, then burst out laughing. “Jed, you’re a convincing actor. I almost believed you. But claiming Emma would abandon her post to celebrate a birthday with Silas? That’s too far-fetched.” “I know Emma. She’s the most responsible woman I’ve ever met. An educated woman. She would never lack that kind of judgment.” His mockery was a knife in my heart. “I’m telling the truth. If you don’t believe me, go and see for yourself.” “I think you’re trying to trick me into leaving so you can meet up with your raider friends,” Thorne said, shaking his head. “Jed, don’t be a fool. Do you know why I’m here alone? Because Emma asked me to talk you down, to convince you to turn back from this path. She said she still loves you. Otherwise, she would have reported this to the territorial marshal, and you’d be in chains by now.” Emma loves me. Before Silas came, I would have believed that. My father rescued her and Leo from a bandit raid that killed their parents. She was only ten when she came to live with us. We grew up together. On his deathbed, after a retaliatory bandit attack, my father asked her if she would be my wife. She said yes. She went to a finishing school back East, telling me to wait for her. I waited four years, raising Leo as my own. When she returned, we were married. But she was always distant. People told me that’s just how it is with couples who have known each other forever. The fire dies down. I believed them. Then Silas arrived, and I saw a light in Emma’s eyes I had never seen before. She would mend his worn clothes, watch him for hours as he worked, and secretly save her teaching money to buy him a silver-inlaid bible. These were affections I had never known. The memory was a fresh stab of pain. But this was no time for self-pity. If Thorne wouldn’t help, I’d have to ride further. There was an army outpost twenty miles out. I was a good rider. If I pushed my horse, I could make it in an hour. The town still had a chance. I moved to mount my horse, but Thorne grabbed me again. “Where do you think you’re going? To meet your allies?” “If you won’t help, I’ll find someone who will,” I grunted, struggling against his grip. “Let go of me!” “I can’t let you go!” Thorne twisted my arm, and a sickening pop echoed in the quiet woods. My shoulder was dislocated. He produced a rope and tied my hands, pulling me toward his own town. Tears of desperation stung my eyes. “Thorne, you have to let me go! I have to save them!” “Save your breath,” he said, hauling me onto his horse. “You’re not going anywhere today.” He led the horse back toward Redemption. As we reached the edge of his town, we saw several of his posse members running out, rifles in hand. Thorne stopped them. “What’s happening?” “A rider just came through! Said Stone Creek is under attack by a war party! We’re riding to help!” Thorne’s face went white as a ghost.

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