Author: Momo Chan

My mother was trapped in a roaring fire. My husband, Ethan, who was the local Fire Captain, rushed to the scene. But instead of going inside, he turned the hose toward a burning trash can on the curb. He cradled a completely unharmed stray cat in his arms and told the onlookers: “Every life is equal. Every life deserves respect.” “Audrey’s mom is a grown adult. She isn’t stupid enough to just sit inside and wait to die.” By the time I got the news and rushed home, the house was nothing but a pile of smoldering ruins. There was only a charred skeleton left, along with my mother’s melted ring. Just then, Ethan called me, his voice bursting with joy. “I saved the cat, Audrey! The vet said if I had been even a minute later…” My voice was dead and dry. “My mom is dead.” “There’s nothing left of her. Not even a body.” Ethan was still riding his high. He went on and on about how happy his childhood friend, Chloe, was when she saw the kitten was safe. During the entire call, he didn’t ask about my mother once. But that was just who Ethan was. He would spend thousands on a sick stray cat. He would hike through the woods all night to find the owner of a lost dog. He would climb onto roofs again and again just to rescue Chloe’s cat. He just couldn’t spare a single drop of empathy for me. I wiped my tears. I had never felt so calm in my entire life. “Let’s get a divorce, Ethan.” His voice sounded muffled, far away. After a long pause, he gave me a half-hearted reply. “Great. I’m glad Susan is okay.” 1 The line didn’t disconnect. I could faintly hear the cat whimpering in the background. I stared at the blackened, ruined house. I couldn’t even cry anymore. Ethan’s voice came closer to the phone again. “I’ll be home late. The kitten still needs some tests at the vet.” Knowing Ethan’s habit of tuned-out hearing whenever I spoke, I held the phone tight and screamed with every last bit of my strength. “I want a divorce, Ethan! I can’t do this for another second!” This time, Ethan heard me loud and clear. His voice boomed through the receiver, making the phone vibrate in my hand. “Are you losing your mind again, Audrey?” “Can you stop throwing tantrums out of nowhere?” I couldn’t hold back the rage and grief screaming inside me anymore. I collapsed, clutching my head, sobbing hysterically. “Yes! Just assume I’m crazy!” “On our wedding night, Chloe called, and you ran out in your undershirt just to save her cat!” “On Christmas, I cooked a whole dinner, and you told me Chloe’s cat was sick and you had to nurse it!” “My mom’s house was on fire, and you chose a stray cat on the street over her life!” “Are these lies, Ethan? Did I make any of this up?” “You know damn well if I’m crazy or not!” Ethan’s heavy breathing filled the line. After a long moment, he let out a sigh. “You need to calm down. Now is not the time for this.” The line went dead. Suddenly, I realized that screaming and crying would never change anything. He didn’t love me. So, my feelings meant absolutely nothing to him. I knelt down, scooped up a handful of the soot and ashes from the ruins, and put it in my pocket. When I got to my temporary place, I placed the ash gently into a clear glass mason jar. I would find a beautiful cemetery in a few days and give her a proper burial. When Ethan finally came home, he was covered in cat hair. He knew I was severely allergic to cats, but he had never cared. “Why are you so dirty? Go wash yourself.” I looked down at my soot-covered hands and my burned clothes. He was a professional firefighter, yet he couldn’t even tell I had just come from a fire scene. “I don’t have a mom anymore, Ethan. I have nothing left.” Hot tears streamed down my face. Ethan walked over, wiped my tears with his thumb, and pushed me toward the bathroom. He still wasn’t listening. Not a single word registered. “You look like a mess. Go take a shower. I’ll dry your hair after.” He pushed me in and shut the door. The sound of the running water couldn’t drown out the sound of his phone ringing outside. It was Chloe. “Ethan, I love the kitten you saved today. I’ll adopt him as soon as he’s discharged.” Ethan’s voice turned incredibly soft. “Your house is practically a zoo already. But it’s fine, as long as you’re happy.” I guessed it was around 8:00 PM. Like clockwork, Ethan and Chloe would call each other at this time every day. They never talked about anything else—just cats. I could never join the conversation, nor did they give me a chance. Because of my severe cat allergy, cats were a forbidden topic. When I stepped out of the bathroom, Ethan had tossed his phone onto the couch. He was out on the balcony, pruning the potted roses. I looked at the coffee table. The glass mason jar was empty. Panic seized me. I rushed out to the balcony, clutching the empty jar. “Where are the ashes inside this?” “What did you do with them?” Ethan didn’t even look up from his rose bush. “Wasn’t that just dirt you brought back for the plants?” “Why are you screaming over nothing?” The glass jar slipped from my fingers, shattering into pieces on the floor. “That was my mother’s ash, Ethan. Not dirt.” I stood there, completely numb. I didn’t even have the strength to yell at him. But he didn’t care. He brushed past me, rushing toward the coffee table. His phone was ringing. It was Chloe’s custom ringtone. “The cat climbed onto the roof again? Hang on, I’m on my way.” Ethan turned to me, his eyes filled with genuine anxiety. “Dry your hair yourself. I have an emergency.” “Also, clean up the broken glass. Don’t cut your feet.” His concern for me only existed in empty words. But for Chloe, he was always ready to run. The next day, I went down to a local law firm to consult about the divorce. Halfway through the meeting, a sharp, stabbing pain hit my lower abdomen. 2 By the time I realized what was happening, blood was already running down my legs. Only then did I remember that my period was a whole month late. I scrambled into an Uber to rush to the hospital, but we got stuck in a massive traffic jam. The driver was honking his horn, furious. “All this traffic for a damn cat? Are you kidding me?” “The whole street is blocked. These people have too much time on their hands.” Then, the driver looked at me through the rearview mirror. “Miss, you look incredibly pale. Are you okay?” “It looks like we’re going to be stuck here for a while.” The pain in my stomach was getting worse, tearing me apart inside. I clutched my stomach and shook my head, unable to speak. Following the driver’s gaze, I looked out the window. I saw Ethan. He was climbing onto a roof. For Chloe’s cat, he had stayed up on that roof the entire night. The crowd below was looking up at him, cheering and taking videos. “He’s so sweet! He cares so much about a little cat. Firefighters are real heroes!” “The world doesn’t just belong to humans. Animals have rights too. This makes me want to cry. He’s amazing!” “He got it! He got the cat! Thank god, I was so scared it would fall!” The crowd cheered, clapping for Ethan’s bravery. But just yesterday, because of his “bravery,” a human life was lost. My mom had trusted Ethan so much. When the fire broke out, the first thing she did was call him. She didn’t even call 911 because she believed her son-in-law would save her. But her trust was met with betrayal. She must have been waiting in that burning house, praying for Ethan to break down the door and carry her to safety. But Ethan was just down the street, putting out a trash can fire for a cat. What was my mom thinking in her final moments? Was she terrified? Was she heartbroken? Maybe, until the moment she died, she was still staring at the door, waiting for him. I lost count of how many times Chloe’s cat had “escaped.” But every single time, Ethan would tirelessly go and rescue it. I used to scream and fight about it. Once, I even grabbed his phone when Chloe called. “Why do you do everything Chloe asks? You’d risk your life to rescue a cat that keeps escaping!” “Why is everything I say wrong? Why am I always the ‘jealous wife’? Ethan, I am your wife! But you won’t even grant me one small favor!” “If you love her so much, why didn’t you marry Chloe instead?” That was the first time Ethan slapped me. The stinging pain on my cheek woke me up. His disgust for me had reached a point where he would rather use violence than speak to me calmly. After that, I became numb. And Ethan gave me a late, pathetic explanation. “You don’t understand because you don’t like cats. Chloe and I just share a love for animals.” “Nothing ever happened between us.” My thoughts snapped back to the present. The traffic finally started to move. Out the window, Ethan was holding the cat, enjoying the applause of the crowd like a hero. While I sat in the cold back seat of an Uber, watching my own baby’s life slip away. “You had a miscarriage. It was likely brought on by severe emotional stress.” “If you had gotten here a few minutes earlier, we might have saved the baby.” Listening to the doctor, I didn’t even cry. I took the prescription and walked out of the hospital alone. Now, I could finally leave Ethan without a single regret. 3 As I reached the apartment door, I heard voices inside. It was Chloe. She was at our place. If this were before, I would have stormed in and started a screaming match. But after everything, I didn’t care anymore. I opened the door. Ethan froze when he saw me. “Where have you been? You look pale as a ghost.” He was smiling, trying to joke around. But I didn’t find it funny. He had no idea his child was gone because of him. “I was at the hospital.” Ethan was cradling the cat, stroking its fur. At my response, he just gave a distracted, “Oh.” He didn’t ask if I was sick. He didn’t ask why I went to the hospital. His reaction was so cold. He cared more about the stray cat in his arms than his own wife. Cat dander was floating everywhere in the air. I covered my nose and tried to walk past them to the bedroom. Suddenly, Chloe gasped, covering her mouth. “Audrey, you have blood on your pants. Did your period start?” I clenched my fists, standing still by the door. My blood ran cold at her words. Ethan put the cat down and walked over to me. “Audrey, how can you be this messy?” “You don’t care about your dignity, but I care about mine. What if someone saw you? Go change your clothes right now.” I wonder if his embarrassment would turn into regret once he found out the truth. I turned around, my breathing already getting heavy. Due to the miscarriage and my severe cat allergy, my body was giving out. “What if I told you that wasn’t period blood?” Ethan leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “Do you think I’m blind? Stop making excuses.” “If it’s not blood, what is it?” I let out a bitter, mocking laugh. “Our baby.” His expression froze. His arms dropped to his sides. He took a step toward me, but before he could speak, Chloe burst out laughing. “Oh, Audrey, that is not funny at all.” “You actually scared Ethan for a second. You’re so mean.” The tension instantly vanished. Ethan’s face twisted from shock to deep disgust. “Enough, Audrey. That is the cheapest, most pathetic lie you’ve ever told.” I knew that no matter what I said, he would never believe me. In his mind, I was already the villain. The allergy was kicking in. My throat was tightening, and I could barely stand. “Ethan… get the cat out of here. I can’t breathe.” He turned his back on me coldheartedly and sat back down next to Chloe. “The ‘boy who cried wolf’ story only works once, Audrey.” “You haven’t even touched the cat. How could you be having an allergic reaction?” I couldn’t hold on anymore. I collapsed right at Ethan’s feet. The loud thud of my body hitting the floor and the blood trickling from my nose didn’t move him. Chloe was staring at her phone, scrolling through social media. “Ethan, look! A puppy fell into the river!” “Oh my god, so sad! Let’s go save it! It’s so small!” I reached out, trying to grab Ethan’s pant leg. But he moved too fast, leaving me with no chance to ask for help. Before he shut the front door, he glanced back at me. “The floor is cold. Get up. Don’t blame me if you catch a cold.” 4 It was a utility worker who came to check the gas line who found me and called 91

She told me later that if the front door hadn’t been slightly left ajar, I would have died of anaphylactic shock. I stayed in the hospital for two days. On the second day, Ethan finally called. “Where are you? The apartment is a mess. Why haven’t you cleaned up?” I squeezed my discharge papers tightly and replied: “I’m at the hospital. I’m getting discharged today.” I heard Ethan let out a frustrated sigh. “I think you mentioned the hospital a few days ago too. What’s wrong with you? Are you actually sick?” This time, he actually heard what I said. He didn’t deflect. He didn’t make excuses. But I had already lost any desire to explain. I walked down to the lobby and picked up several copies of the divorce agreement I had requested. This time, whether he listened or not, I was going to end this. There was no point in dragging it out. When I got home, I placed the papers calmly on the coffee table. Ethan was in the kitchen cooking. I called out to him, my back turned. “Sign this when you have a moment.” He turned around, looking surprised. I added: “The divorce papers.” He finally walked over, his eyes locked onto the documents. “Just because I didn’t play along with your sick pregnancy joke, you’re throwing a tantrum and demanding a divorce?” “Audrey, we are adults. Stop being so childish.” I threw my medical reports and discharge papers onto the table, right in front of him. “I was pregnant. But thanks to you, I lost the baby.” “Ethan, we’re done. Every single day with you has been pure torture.” I sat on the floor, curling myself into a ball. Ethan stared at the medical report, then at the divorce papers. “You fabricated a fake miscarriage report just to guilt-trip me?” “Think about it, Audrey. How many times have you threatened divorce this week?” “Whatever. I’ll stay at the fire station for a few days. We’ll talk when you’ve calmed down.” He didn’t want to treat me well, but he didn’t want to let me go either. Being tied to him was only dragging us both into hell. Because of the cat rescue on the roof, Ethan was once again hailed as a local hero on TikTok. But he didn’t deserve that title at all. Local news channels kept interviewing him. During this time, my grief and anger only intensified. I couldn’t stop picturing how my mother died in those flames. And I couldn’t forget how Ethan had repeatedly left me in danger. So, I made a choice. I sent a detailed report with evidence to the Fire Department’s internal affairs. A few days later, Ethan was doing another live TV interview. He looked sharp and proud. When the reporter asked him a question, he answered smoothly. “I just did what anyone would do. I believe anyone who saw that kitten would have done the same.” The reporter, Jessica, changed her tone. “So, Captain, do you think a cat’s life is more important than a human’s life?” Without hesitation, Ethan smiled. “Human life always comes first. Absolutely.” Jessica’s face went cold. “Then why, when a human and a cat were both in danger, did you choose to save the cat?” “And let a woman burn to death?” Ethan’s hands began to sweat. His confident posture crumbled instantly. He looked past the cameras and saw me standing in the crowd. His eyes panicked. He looked like he wanted to beg me to save him, to make an excuse for him. I walked forward, holding my mother’s framed portrait in my arms. “Give her an explanation, Ethan.” The cameras immediately turned toward me. Ethan’s voice shook. “Audrey… you said Susan was alive… didn’t you?” My heart was breaking, but I kept my voice dead cold. “You were the one who said that. I never did.” Ethan’s proud shoulders collapsed. He took a weak step toward me. “Where is Susan? She’s still alive, right?” I looked into his eyes and said, word by word: “She is in our apartment. On the balcony. In the rose pot you dumped her ashes into.”

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I have severe asthma and a life-threatening allergy to animal dander. But on the first day of the semester, my roommate brought thirty stray dogs into our dorm. When I tried to get them out, she burst into tears, blocking the door. “How can you be so selfish, Chloe? They have nowhere else to go! Are you seriously going to throw them out into the cold?” I begged her to take them to a local shelter. But in my past life, that single request turned the entire campus against me. They labeled me as cold-blooded, claiming I couldn’t even tolerate a few helpless puppies. Eventually, the extreme buildup of dog dander triggered a severe asthma attack. My airway swelled shut, and I suffocated to death right on our dorm floor. Becca didn’t feel a shred of guilt. Instead, she went live on TikTok, crying to her followers that my “lack of patience” had stressed the poor dogs out, indirectly blaming me for my own death. She gained millions of sympathetic followers. Those rabid fans went as far as scattering my ashes in the trash and relentlessly cyberbullying my parents online, which eventually led to their fatal car accident. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on move-in day. Becca was standing in our room, holding a filthy, shivering stray dog, her eyes red as she looked at me. “He’s so helpless, Chloe. Can we please keep him? Please?” I smiled, nodding gently. “Sure.” But why did she end up regretting it?

Hearing Becca’s voice again was the moment I realized I had been reborn. A sharp, phantom pain flared in my chest. The agonizing sensation of suffocating to death still lingered in my throat. “Please, Chloe? Just for a little bit?” Becca took a step closer, holding the dirty dog out like a shield. I instinctively stepped back. Our other roommate, Harper, was a total people-pleaser. She shuffled her feet, looking uncomfortable. “But, Becca… aren’t pets against the dorm policy?” Maya, who usually kept to herself, just glanced up from her phone and shrugged, saying nothing. Becca’s tears spilled over instantly. “Rules are just words, Harper! This is a living soul! If we throw him out, he’ll die!” The same words. The exact same scene. In my past life, this was the moment I had stood up and protested fiercely. I had told them I had severe asthma and was deadly allergic to dog dander. And Becca had cried, saying, “Your allergy is just temporary discomfort, but his life is forever!” I had argued that keeping pets was a violation of housing rules, and we would all get written up. She had pointed a finger at me, sobbing, “How can you be so cold and selfish? Is your perfect record more important than a living animal?” When I tried to take the dog to a shelter, she sat at our dorm entrance, cradling the dog and crying to every passing student that I was an animal abuser. Eventually, she hoarded thirty strays in our room. And I died of asphyxiation. After my death, she started livestreaming, branding herself as a savior of stray animals. She gained millions of followers and rode her fake charity straight to fame and wealth. “Chloe?” Becca’s eyes held a subtle, mocking challenge. I stared at the dog in her arms. My throat tightened instinctively, but I forced a sweet, warm smile onto my face. “Sure. Keep him.” The room went dead silent. Becca froze. Harper and Maya stared at me like I had lost my mind. “Are you sure?” Becca stammered. I smiled wider. “Of course. Which is why I’m moving out of this room right now. You can do all the charity work you want in here!” Becca blinked, completely speechless. The other two roommates couldn’t believe their ears. “Chloe… are you sure you don’t want to think about it?” Harper asked. Before she could finish, I cut her off. “Nope. Decision made.” In my past life, these two “good girls” had used me as a shield, letting me speak up so they wouldn’t have to deal with the dog. But after I died, they immediately turned on me. They went on Becca’s livestream, profiting off my death and chasing clout. I turned on my heel and walked straight to the Housing Administration office. The Resident Director, Mrs. Davies, was sorting through the freshman rosters. She looked up, surprised by my sudden appearance. I placed a neat stack of documents on her desk. It was my certified hospital reports for severe asthma and animal dander allergies, along with a completed dorm transfer request form. “Mrs. Davies, I have severe bronchial asthma and a life-threatening allergy to animal dander,” I said clearly. “My roommate, Becca Sinclair, just brought a stray dog into our room. I respect her desire to save animals, but for my own survival, I need to request an emergency room transfer.” The office went silent. Jake, the student assistant sitting nearby, let out a soft gasp. “Bringing a dog into the residence hall is a serious violation,” Mrs. Davies said, her eyebrows knitting together. “But surely you girls can talk this out first?” Just then, Becca appeared at the door, holding the dog and looking miserable. “Mrs. Davies, I just wanted to give a helpless animal a home.” The pity on Jake’s face immediately turned to confusion. Mrs. Davies looked at the shivering, filthy dog in Becca’s arms. “Becca, why didn’t you take it to the humane society? Why bring it here? You know the campus housing policies.”

Becca squeezed the dog tighter. “But he looked so sad! I only wanted to give him a temporary place to sleep!” As she spoke, tears streamed down her face. By now, a few curious freshmen had gathered outside the open office door, whispering. “Oh my god, she’s so sweet,” someone whispered. Others threw judging looks at me, silent disapproval written all over their faces. The familiar tightness crept back into my chest. In my last life, it was always like this. As long as Becca cried, the entire world took her side. When I said I was allergic, they said I was being dramatic. When I cited dorm rules, they said we should show compassion. When I said my life was in danger, they accused me of having a cold heart. Even after I died in that dorm room, people on the school forum debated if I had “deserved it” for being so close-minded. I ignored Becca and looked straight at Mrs. Davies. “Mrs. Davies, I’m not here to judge her kindness. I am only requesting to not live under the same roof as her.” Becca’s sobbing hitched. She looked up in disbelief, tears clinging to her eyelashes. “Chloe, why are you being so hostile toward me?” “I’m not hostile toward you. I’m allergic to the dog,” I said flatly. She stumbled back half a step, looking completely devastated. “So what if you’re allergic? He didn’t ask to be born a dog! He just wants to live!” I didn’t bother wasting my breath on her. I simply pushed my medical files closer to Mrs. Davies. Mrs. Davies scanned the allergy report, her frown deepening. “A room transfer requires approval from both the department dean and housing services. The bureaucracy takes time.” Becca quickly wiped her nose, putting on a saintly act. “Mrs. Davies, don’t worry about all that hassle.” “I’ll work hard to show Chloe how sweet animals can be. I’ll watch him every second. I promise he won’t bother her.” I looked at her, enunciating every word. “I don’t want to get used to him.” “I support your charity work, Becca. But I also have the right to protect my own health. Those two things can coexist.” Whispers erupted from the hallway. “She’s so heartless. If I were Becca’s roommate, I’d help her raise the dog!” “Seriously. How can someone be so cold-blooded?” I looked at these online trolls and almost laughed out loud. Let’s see if they still feel that way when they have to live with thirty stray, un-potty-trained dogs. “Mrs. Davies, if I have a medical emergency on campus due to a known hazard, the university will be held legally liable,” I said calmly. “I can wait for the paperwork, but I need you to initiate the transfer immediately.” Mrs. Davies winced. “Dorm transfers are a nightmare right now… Why don’t you girls go back and try to communicate? You’re college students now. You need to learn to resolve roommate conflicts.” Hearing this, Becca’s tears flowed even faster. “Mrs. Davies, we don’t want to cause trouble for you! I’ll talk to Chloe.” “Chloe, let’s go. Let’s not bother the director. We can solve this ourselves.” The students crowding the doorway began to chime in. “Yeah, just go talk it out. You’re both girls, it’s not that deep.” “Starting the semester with a dramatic room transfer is just a bad look anyway.” Becca cradled the dog, speaking just loud enough for everyone to hear. “Chloe, I just wish you wouldn’t reject a precious life so easily.” “Look how good he is. He doesn’t even bark.” “Why do you have to be so hateful?”

In my past life, it was at this exact moment that my heart softened, and I gave in. I had thought it wasn’t worth ruining roommate relationships on the very first day. So, I had followed her back. That same night, she brought in more dogs, feeding them and grooming them right in our room. The air had become thick with fine dander and hair. My throat felt like it was being scraped with sandpaper. When I crawled out of bed to find my medication, she had grabbed my inhaler and thrown it out the window, crying, “Chloe, you can’t use that chemical spray in front of them! The fumes will poison them!” Later, as I knelt on the floor, gasping for air, a terrifying wheeze rattling in my chest, she was still hugging her dog, whispering, “Don’t be scared, sweetie. She didn’t mean to make that scary noise.” “Why do you always have to make everything a massive scene?” Becca hissed, suddenly snapping out of her memories and glaring at me. “We could have easily worked this out in private!” I immediately took a step back, widening the gap between us. “Get away from me.” Becca bit her lip, tears instantly welling up again. “I didn’t even do anything to you.” “Why are you acting like I’m a monster?” Suddenly, the office door was slammed open. A campus security officer rushed in, his face pale with panic. “Mrs. Davies! We have an emergency! A student was just attacked and severely bitten by a stray dog over at the Quad!” Mrs. Davies leaped up. “What? Is it bad?” “A chunk of his arm was practically torn off! They’re rushing him to the emergency room! Apparently, that dog has been hanging around because someone keeps feeding it!” The office went dead silent. Becca’s face drained of all color. “But… dogs are so sweet,” she mumbled, unconsciously letting go of the dog in her arms. Startled, the puppy bolted. It ran straight toward Mrs. Davies’s desk, jumping onto the freshly printed freshman records and urinating all over them. Becca’s eyes went wide. “Chloe must have scared him! He’s usually so well-behaved!” Once again, everyone’s eyes locked onto me. It was just like my past life. Back then, her dogs had shredded my medical files, and everyone blamed me for “provoking her” and making her too emotional to watch her pets. When I suffocated, they said I was just too fragile and dramatic, refusing to blame her “kind heart.” Becca’s crying cut off in her throat. “Mrs. Davies, I… I didn’t mean to.” Mrs. Davies closed her eyes, looking completely exhausted. “Everyone out. Let’s go see what’s happening at the Quad.” By the time we arrived, the paramedics were loading a bleeding male student into an ambulance. A security guard stood nearby holding a catch-pole. Trapped in the loop was a snarling, dirty stray, growling menacingly. The moment Becca saw the dog, she screamed and tried to charge forward. “Buster! Don’t hurt him!”

The guard blocked her immediately. “Miss, stay back! This dog just mauled someone. It’s dangerous!” “He didn’t mean to!” Becca sobbed frantically. “That guy must have threatened him! Buster is the sweetest dog!” The injured student’s friend was shaking with rage. “He was literally just walking by! You feed these wild dogs every single day, making them lose their fear of humans! Now someone is mutilated and you’re blaming us?!” The crowd of onlookers erupted. Many of them recognized Becca. “Yeah, that’s her. She always brings cafeteria scraps to feed them.” “I told her last week to stop feeding the strays before someone got hurt, but she just called me heartless.” Becca shrieked, throwing herself toward the guard. “No!” “If my selfish roommate had let me keep the puppy in our room, Buster wouldn’t have gotten stressed and bitten anyone!” “If you want to blame someone, blame Chloe!” The guard’s expression hardened. “Miss, worry about yourself first.” Becca clung to her shivering, peeing puppy. “You can’t take him away from me!” Some bystanders handed her tissues. Others pulled out their phones, filming the entire drama. In the end, Mrs. Davies moved me to an adjacent dorm building for the night. “Stay here tonight, Chloe. First thing tomorrow morning, I’ll personally expedite your room transfer.” The new dorm was clean, and the roommates seemed nice. But by that afternoon, the campus forum was on fire. 【Compassionate feeding or inviting danger? Student severely mauled by stray dog on campus!】 In the comments, someone anonymously leaked that Becca had been hoarding and feeding strays on campus for months despite multiple warnings. But very quickly, the narrative was spun. A new post was pinned to the top of the forum: 【Exposing the cold-blooded roommate who got a sweet girl disciplined】 The post featured a photo of Becca crying beautifully, contrasted with a candid shot of my cold, expressionless face in the housing office. “Breaking news! The girl who feeds the strays might get suspended, all because her roommate refused to let a puppy stay in their room!” “Oh my god, is her roommate insane? Even if feeding strays isn’t perfect, her intentions were pure!” “Ruining someone’s life just for your own convenience? That’s sick.” Dozens of people started tagging my account, demanding answers. Skylar, my new roommate, handed me her phone, looking incredibly awkward. “Chloe… do you want to post a statement or something?” In my past life, I had tried to explain. I had posted my emergency room records, photos of my swollen throat, and details of my asthma attacks. Nobody believed me. They called them fake. My phone vibrated constantly with hateful Snapchat notifications and texts from the class group chat. “Some people really love playing the victim. Running to the administration on day one just to feel powerful.” “We have to sit in the same lectures with her. How embarrassing.” “Since when is respecting life a crime?” I quietly took screenshots of every single message and saved them to a secure folder. Suddenly, there was a knock at my door. I opened it. Becca stood there, cradling the puppy, looking pitiful. “Chloe, please talk to me. The puppy missed you. He came to ask for your forgiveness.” Before I could speak, she grabbed my arm and shoved the dog directly into my chest. My lungs instantly seized. I gasped, trying to push her away. But Becca had freakish strength. She held onto me tightly, her eyes red. “Just hold him! See how cute he is!” A violent, uncontrollable cough ripped from my throat. I couldn’t breathe. “Get… away…” Using every ounce of my remaining strength, I shoved her off me. The startled dog tumbled to the floor, growling, and immediately lunged. Becca lost her balance, crashing to the ground and screaming at the top of her lungs. “Ahhh! Help me!”

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I am a once-in-a-century wolf. A born Luna,blessed by the Moon Goddess herself. But my fated mate,Kyle,was obsessed with Lila—a lowly Omega maid. He resented me because the Goddess chose me. Not her. The day of our mating ceremony,Lila stood there,sobbing. Then right in front of the entire pack,Kyle shoved the sacred chalice off the altar. “Lila is carrying my pup!She’s my only Luna!” “This mating was forced by my mother.” “Know your place,and you can stay as a maid.” I scoffed,turning to face the pack below. “Fine.If this is how it is,I hereby reject my mating bond with Kyle!” “Wolves of the pack! Whoever wants to claim me today,I,Seraphina,will leave with you right now!” … The great hall went dead silent. Then,the whispers started. Spreading through the crowd like wildfire. Everyone knew what I was. A once-in-a-century wolf. A born Luna. Whoever claimed me would become the next Alpha King. Rejecting the bond?For an Omega maid? Kyle had lost his damn mind. I could see a few Alphas in the crowd,their eyes already glowing. Kyle saw it too. His wolf bristled with rage. “You have a lot of nerve,Seraphina! Your name is already carved into my family’s sacred stone!” “I may not want you,but no one else gets you either! Any wolf who takes you is openly declaring war on my bloodline. That’s treason against the entire pack!” Treason. The threat hung heavy in the air. The great hall went dead silent again. Those Alphas who looked so eager a second ago? I watched them lower their heads. No one dared. Not a single one.

Kyle smirked,looking down at me with pure arrogance. “See that,Seraphina?” “You can either die alone,or get thrown into the wasteland to feed the beasts. Take your pick.” He was so sure I wouldn’t dare fight back. But he forgot one crucial detail. He wasn’t the absolute ruler of this pack. While I stood there in silence,Ella—Kyle’s mother—rushed in. She marched straight up and slapped Lila hard across the face. “You little tramp!How dare you seduce my son at his own mating ceremony!” “Guards!Drag this piece of trash out of here! Deal with her according to pack law!” Lila shrieked. She collapsed right on cue,clutching her belly and sobbing. Fiercely protective,Kyle instantly shielded her,glaring at the guards. “Lila is under my protection!Anyone who touches her answers to me!” Ella stared at him,utterly devastated. She never expected Kyle to lose his mind over a maid like this. “Kyle,do you know how many powerful Alphas begged for Seraphina?” “Do you know how hard I had to fight to secure this bond for you?!” “Seraphina’s bloodline is impeccable! Her destiny would have brought you absolute glory!” “And you humiliate her like this? Right in front of the entire pack?!”

Kyle jutted his chin out,completely unbothered. “I never said I didn’t want her! I just needed to put her in her place so she doesn’t try to bully Lila later!” He looked at me like he was doing me a massive favor. “As long as you treat Lila well and put her needs first,I’ll still accept you as my mate. I’ll even give you the Luna title to save your dignity.” “But don’t ever expect me to touch you.” “Lila is three months pregnant. Once the pup is born,you’ll be the one raising it. I won’t have Lila exhausting herself.” “And your father is the pack’s High Priest,right? He can be the pup’s personal tutor, making sure my heir is raised for greatness!” The whole room froze. Everyone was stunned by his outrageous demands. Ella’s face burned with humiliation. But then she remembered the pup growing in Lila’s womb. Kyle’s flesh and blood. Unable to punish that pregnant maid,she forced a smile and grabbed my hands. “My dear,this is all my fault. I failed to discipline him,and now you’re the one suffering.” “But the whole pack is watching. Could you just…pretend to agree to his demands? Let us get through the ceremony first.” “I promise you,I will handle this later. I will never let that little bitch step over you!” My heart turned to ice. Ella could make all the pretty promises she wanted,but I wasn’t stupid. If she couldn’t control him today,she never would.

I gently pulled my hands from hers. “Lady Ella,I refuse to turn a blind eye to disrespect.” “Have you forgotten? When you begged my mother for this bond,you swore it yourself. Kyle would only ever have one mate.” “And now?The ceremony isn’t even finished, yet he humiliates me for a mistress—and gets her pregnant with a bastard pup.” “With all due respect,I’d rather die alone than mate with a wolf like him.” Ella didn’t expect me to be so defiant. The color instantly drained from her face. But Kyle was furious. He pointed a finger straight at me and roared: “You really think I’ll take you as my mate just because my mother backs you?! Keep dreaming,Seraphina!” “I’d love to see how you finish this ceremony without me!” With that,Kyle scooped Lila into his arms and stormed off. He didn’t even look back. Ella’s desperate pleading fell on deaf ears. Abandoned on the day of my own mating ceremony. The entire pack stared at me,filled with pity. But Ella wasn’t giving up. “My dear,today is Kyle’s fault. But the ceremony cannot be delayed.” “What if we use a white wolf as his proxy to finish the ritual for now? We can always make it right later.” “If this bond is broken,you won’t just be humiliated. The Council of Elders will punish you for breaking the pact.”

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The day we went to the County Clerk’s Office to get our marriage license, my boyfriend Jason walked out on me. All because his intern secretary Alice had her thesis defense that day, and she’d apparently be too nervous without him there. “Wendy, we’ll come back tomorrow. Today’s defense determines Alice’s entire future.” He said it like it was nothing, already turning to leave. Ever since Alice joined the company, Jason had abandoned me for her time and time again. And now, even our marriage application had to be postponed for that girl. My nails dug deep into my palms as I called after him. “Jason, if you walk out that door today, we’re done.” His face twisted with irritation. “Wendy, how old are you? Stop throwing tantrums like a child.” “We can apply for a marriage license any day. But if I don’t show up today, Alice’s future is ruined.” “Have you forgotten how hard it was for you when nobody had your back? I’m doing this for the version of you she reminds me of!” “Can you please stop being so petty with a young girl?” I watched his figure disappear through the glass doors. Then I pulled out my phone and dialed my father. “Dad, I’ll marry Leon.” … Less than half an hour later, Leon’s black Lincoln pulled up outside. He was the only son of my father’s business partner—the match our families had chosen for an arranged marriage. We resubmitted the application and held a brief, solemn ceremony of vows. Before we exchanged our declarations, Leon opened a red velvet box and held it out to me. The Graff ring was breathtaking—dozens of smaller diamonds clustered around a brilliant yellow center stone that caught the light like captured fire. I instinctively gripped the fabric of my dress. Leon’s deep, resonant voice reached my ear. “I imagine you probably didn’t have time to prepare. But marriage deserves at least some ceremony. I picked this up on the way over—if you don’t care for the style, we can fly to Paris in a few days and have one custom-made.” I shook my head, my eyes stinging. “No, it’s perfect. Thank you. I love it.” I slipped the cheap silver ring I’d worn for eight years off my finger and dropped it into the trash. Then I picked up the simple platinum band resting beside that lavish diamond, and slowly slid it onto Leon’s ring finger. Twenty minutes later, I was legally Leon’s wife. Stepping outside, the sunlight was almost blinding. The sycamores rustled in the breeze, their leaves whispering. Leon turned to look at me. “I’ve already had my butler transfer the nearest villa into your name. The gate code is today’s date. You can move in whenever you’d like.” I nodded. “I only took a half day off. I’ll go back to the apartment tonight to pack, then move over.” Leon smiled and accepted my arrangement without argument. He drove me to the Westbrook Group headquarters. After the car came to a stop, he reached into the back seat and handed me an elegantly wrapped pastry box. “The housekeeper made Opéra cake. Share it with your colleagues.” I stared at the box, momentarily dazed. In eight years with Jason, we’d kept our relationship a secret. When the company was just starting out, he said he couldn’t guarantee me a future yet—we’d go public once things stabilized. During the expansion phase, he said it was the critical sprint to IPO—he’d marry me after the listing. After the company successfully went public, he pulled rank as CEO, citing the company’s policy against office romances—he had to lead by example, and we’d announce things after the wedding. Until today, everyone in the company only knew I had a boyfriend. Not a single person knew that my boyfriend was the CEO himself. But in that moment, I finally understood: some things were never mine to begin with. “If it’s inconvenient for you…” The second before Leon could pull the pastry box back, I caught the edge of the ribbon and looked up with a small smile. “It’s not inconvenient at all. I love it.” “Good. I’ll pick you up after work tonight.” “Okay.” I watched his car merge into the bustling flow of New York traffic, then turned and walked into the office tower. A Microsoft Teams notification popped up immediately—a message tagging me, from Jason. @Wendy: *Wendy, bring the complete assessment report for the wetland park project to my office in five minutes.* The wetland park project had only been presented to the board yesterday. The next scheduled review wasn’t for another two weeks. Several subordinates from different departments messaged me privately, asking if there was some major crisis with the project. After reassuring them, I gathered the files and headed straight for the top floor. “Jason, here are the documents for the wetland park project. Which section needs your review?” Jason pressed his fingers against his temples. “Are you still throwing a fit about this morning?” “Jason, if this is about work, please give me your instructions. If it’s personal, I have a full plate to get back to.” I turned to leave, but Jason stepped forward and blocked my path. “What happened this morning was my fault. As soon as I’m back from this business trip, we’ll get married. You can start planning our wedding in the meantime.” This morning it was *wait until tomorrow.* Now it was *wait until after his trip.* For Jason, everything on his to-do list that involved me could be indefinitely postponed. And all I ever got in return was one delay after another. “Jason, do you honestly believe I’ll just stand in place forever, waiting for you?” Jason’s brow furrowed, his expression dripping with impatience. “Wendy, I’ve already conceded and agreed to marry you. Don’t push it!” “Push it? Fine—then let me push it one last time. I’ve already gotten mar—” A knock at the door cut me off. Alice walked in wearing a Chanel dress, files in her arms. “Jason, here’s the cross-border contract that needs your urgent signature.” The instant Jason looked at her, the coldness in his eyes melted away, replaced by a rare softness. “Perfect timing—Wendy’s here too. You two can do the handoff for the wetland park project right now.” My head snapped up. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “What did you just say? Handoff?”

“Alice transfers to the business division tomorrow. She needs results to establish credibility. The wetland park proposal is already mature—let her cut her teeth on it.” I gripped the folder in my hands so hard my knuckles went white, rage surging straight to my brain. “I spent six months leading a team to land that project, and you’re handing it to her to *cut her teeth on*?” “This is a strategic company decision.” Jason’s voice didn’t waver. I let out a cold laugh. “Is this the board’s strategic decision, or your personal decision to prop her up?” “Wendy, everyone was new to the workforce once. Don’t be so selfish. Get it ready—one week for the handoff.” “And if I refuse?” “Either hand over the project or leave the company. Your choice.” Looking at that cold, merciless face, a scene from years ago flashed through my mind. Back when an executive at a partner firm made a mistake, they’d called me to shift the blame—screaming at me over the phone for more than an hour. When Jason found out, he was so furious he wanted to rip up the contract and confront them. I was the one who stopped him. I’d cried and told him: if we terminate now, then that hour of humiliation I endured would have been for nothing. Jason had grabbed my hand and run with me to the nearest church, where he promised before God that he would never let me suffer again. Now every ounce of suffering in my life came directly from him. Alice timidly reached out and tugged at Jason’s sleeve, her expression innocent and wide-eyed. “Jason, if Wendy doesn’t want to, just forget it… Don’t fight because of me…” Jason’s voice turned gentle. “When I make a promise, I keep it.” I’d originally planned to stay until the project was fully delivered before resigning. Clearly, there was no point in waiting. I swallowed the nausea rising in my chest. “My resignation letter will go straight to your inbox. But until my last day, I’m not handing over anything to her. After I’m gone, the project is no longer my concern. Do whatever you want with it.” With that, I shouldered past him and walked out of the office. I downloaded the resignation form, filled it out, and sent it to the CEO’s email. Half an hour later, Alice appeared at my desk holding an approved termination slip. “Wendy, here’s your termination form—Jason already signed it. Could you please transfer the wetland park project’s underlying data to me?” I pushed the hard drive and stack of printed materials I’d already organized across the desk. “It’s all here.” Alice smiled as she gathered the core files into her arms, eyes glittering with triumph. “Oh, Wendy, I’m about to fly to Switzerland with Jason on his private jet for a business trip, so I won’t bother you any longer. Thanks for the project.” Shortly after she left, a text from Jason popped up. *While I’m away on this trip, book the hotel for the wedding. When I get back from Switzerland, I’ll officially announce our relationship at the celebration dinner.* Even now, he was absolutely certain I wouldn’t leave. Convinced that no matter how much he trampled my dignity, I’d keep orbiting him like a loyal dog. But he was wrong. I didn’t bother replying. I blocked his number and started packing my things. That evening, Leon drove me to the apartment building. After confirming multiple times that I didn’t need help, he drove away. The apartment sat in the most prime location in Manhattan. Jason had bought it after his first big payday as an entrepreneur. As a gesture of his love, the deed was in my name alone. Memories flooded in like a tide as I packed. The kitchen dishes—we’d picked them out together, jostling through a crowded flea market. The oil painting in the living room—a master’s original he’d bid on during a business trip to Tokyo, just because I’d once mentioned in passing that I liked it. Those clay figurines on the TV stand—we’d spent an entire afternoon at a pottery studio making them for our anniversary. I threw them all in the trash. Every last ounce of love I’d ever felt for Jason, discarded along with them. Two days. That was how long it took to completely empty the apartment. Jason’s belongings filled two oversized storage bins. I scheduled a DPD same-day delivery, with the shipping address set to his office. When it was done, I sat on the living room sofa. Outside the window, the lake shimmered in the fading light. Inside, the only traces left were the faint impressions on the carpet where furniture used to stand. A shame. But not worth mourning. I scrolled through my phone contacts and called the city’s largest real estate agency. I listed the apartment for sale.

The location was so prime that the agent called back almost immediately—a buyer was ready to purchase. On the way to sign the agreement, my phone rang. An unmarked number. I answered. “Wendy! Blocking all my contacts is one thing, but packing up every single one of my personal belongings and shipping them to my office! What the hell are you trying to do?!” “All I did was give the project to Alice! Is that really worth losing your mind over?!” “Does bullying a new hire make you feel superior? Does it make you feel important?!” “If you can’t even show that much generosity, I think we need to seriously reconsider this marriage!” First he’d used breakups to threaten me. Now he was using marriage as leverage. He was simply used to my compliance—certain that I’d never marry anyone but him. My voice was ice. “I’ve officially resigned. Who you give that project to is none of my business.” “And as for marriage—you don’t need to reconsider. It’s off the table.” Jason’s voice turned sharp. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Before I could respond, a saccharine female voice drifted through from his end: “I forgot to grab a towel… Could you maybe… bring one in for me?” Then came the grating screech of a chair scraping against the floor. “Something just came up on my end. We’ll talk about the marriage when I’m back in the country—” I hung up before he could finish, blocked the number, and dropped the phone in my lap. It buzzed a moment later. A text from Leon. *What time will you be done? I made dinner. I’ll be waiting for you at home.* The word *home* dispelled the chill in my chest instantly. After replying to Leon, the taxi pulled to a smooth stop at its destination. The buyer was decisive. After thoroughly reviewing the property title, he signed the purchase agreement on the spot and wired the full amount. “Ms. Wendy, pleasure doing business. I’ll see you at the title office tomorrow.” “See you tomorrow.” Leon’s steak was perfectly seared—tender, paired with rum sauce, rich and savory. I set down my knife and absent-mindedly tapped into my former company’s group chat on my phone. My offboarding paperwork was still being finalized, so I hadn’t been removed yet. An employee on annual leave had been vacationing in the Alps. While staying at a luxury hotel at the base of the mountains, she’d bumped into Jason and Alice. She’d snapped a photo of the two of them together and accidentally posted it to the main work group. Though she deleted it within seconds, the image had already been screenshotted and saved by countless employees. In the photo, Alice wore a striking red puffer jacket, beaming against the snowy mountain backdrop. Jason stood a few steps behind her in a tailored overcoat, his gaze fixed on the young woman—tender, devoted, as if she were his entire world. The last time he’d looked at me that way was years ago. Jason quickly posted a clarification in the group: *The photo is misleading due to the angle. After this business trip wrapped up, I took a subordinate along to unwind as a team-building gesture. Please don’t spread malicious rumors—it could seriously damage a new employee’s professional reputation.* I found it deeply ironic. Years ago, when a colleague spotted me getting into his car late at night, rumors spread through the company that I’d slept my way to Business Director. He wouldn’t offer a single word in my defense. But for Alice, he rushed to explain, terrified she might suffer even the slightest grievance. I closed the app without expression and accepted the glass of warm milk Leon handed me before bed. — At that moment, in the luxury hotel suite in Switzerland. Jason stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring at his phone with furrowed brows. In the past, the moment Wendy saw a photo like this, she would have called him in a frenzy, demanding answers. Had she not seen it? Or… had she truly stopped caring? The thought, combined with Wendy’s uncharacteristic coldness these past few days, sent a sharp stab through his chest. But he quickly talked himself down. Impossible. Wendy had loved him for eight years. Loved him more than her own life. She was just putting on a cold front, waiting for him to come groveling. … The next morning, Leon drove me to the title office. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?” He undid his seatbelt and turned to me, his voice gentle. I smiled. “It’s just signing a few documents. I can handle it. Go on to your meeting.” “All right. Call me if you need anything.” I stepped out, watched Leon’s car disappear into traffic, then turned and walked toward the lobby.

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The Moretti family had a rule written in blood. Any man who betrayed his wife and children would kneel before the statue of the Blessed Mother and face the judgment of the family. In the third year of my marriage to Bradley Moretti, he knelt on the freezing marble floor of the chapel beneath the old estate, looked me in the eye, and asked for a divorce. All because his first love—the woman who had been missing for three years—had come back. His hand never trembled as he slid the divorce papers across the table. “Wallis, Zora was destroyed because of me,” he said evenly. “I already owe her more than I can ever repay.” I tightened my arms around our daughter. Anne was only a month old. She was so tiny, so impossibly fragile, that even her softest cries made my heart ache. “What about Anne?” I asked. Bradley said nothing. The silence stretched long enough for the chapel candles to burn noticeably lower. At last, he looked away. “Zora can’t have children anymore. She can’t bear to look at mine.” I stared at him, and the man before me suddenly felt like a stranger. He continued, “Anne will be removed from the Moretti family trust. She’ll have no inheritance rights. I’ll find a safe family to take her in, and I’ll make sure she’s provided for throughout her life.” In that moment, I remembered the first time we met. It had been a winter night in New York. Outside a crumbling theater in Brooklyn, he had stepped between me and a drunk, tucked his bloodied hand into his coat pocket, and said quietly, “Don’t be afraid, Miss Finn. Not all Morettis are monsters.” I had believed him. His mask had simply been more convincing than the others’. I slipped the divorce papers into the inside pocket of my coat. “Fine.” Everyone in the chapel went still. Bradley looked up sharply, as if he had misheard me. I held Anne close and made sure there was no mistaking my words. “I’ll sign. But Anne comes with me.” “From this moment on, my daughter and I have nothing to do with the Moretti family.” “Not anymore.”

Bradley’s mother, Eden Moretti, was the first to react. She rushed toward me and seized my wrist. “Wallis, no man in this family is allowed to treat his wife this way. Bradley may have lost his mind, but the rest of us haven’t.” Bradley’s father, Eric, sat at the head of the long table. The old man controlled half the docks, casinos, and underground shipping routes on the East Coast. His face had gone ashen, his expression hard as stone. “You’re throwing away your wife and newborn daughter for another woman?” He looked at his son as if he were staring at a traitor. “Bradley, do you even understand what you’re saying?” Bradley remained on his knees, his back rigid. He had removed his black suit jacket, and his white dress shirt clung to him. A dark patch of sweat spread slowly across his back. “I do.” “But Zora was taken because of me. Everything she suffered during those three years is on me.” The uncles, advisers, and lawyers seated along both sides of the table said nothing. They had seen gunfights. Betrayals. Bodies disappearing beneath the Hudson. But none of them had ever seen the Moretti heir kneel in the family chapel and ask to abandon his wife and child. An elderly family adviser finally spoke. “Bradley, the Moretti name survived a hundred years. It wasn’t built for you to drag it through the mud.” “If you insist on this divorce, you will accept the punishment that comes with it.” Bradley lowered his eyes. “I accept.” Eric rose slowly. “Bring the whip.” Eden went white. “Eric!” “If he wants to break the family code, he should understand the price.” Moments later, someone brought in a black leather whip. Bradley unbuttoned his shirt and bared his back. When the first lash struck, Anne startled awake in my arms. Her cry was thin and reedy. A welt split open across Bradley’s back, and blood welled at once. His jaw tightened, but he made no sound. He remained on his knees like a martyr. How absurd. Once, he had knelt before his parents just like this and sworn he would marry no one but me. Back then, I was only a lawyer’s daughter—quiet, ordinary, and completely unconnected to a family like theirs. Everyone said he had lost his mind. But Bradley drove to my house himself and waited outside all night. He told my father, “I know what the Moretti name means. But I’ll protect her with my life.” Later, we married at St. Patrick’s Cathedral. He lifted my veil, bent down to kiss me, and whispered so softly that only I could hear, “Wallis, I’ll be good to you for the rest of my life.” I believed him then. Now, for another woman, he would rather let his back be flayed to ribbons than keep his wife and daughter in his life. After the hundredth lash, Eric threw the whip to the floor. “Get out.” Bradley braced a hand against the marble and forced himself to his feet. The back of his white shirt was soaked with blood. Snow was falling outside. He walked to the center of the estate courtyard and dropped to his knees again. His face was deathly pale, but his answer did not change. “Even if I die here, I still want the divorce.” I watched him until the pain in my chest finally gave way to numbness. Just the day before, we had held Anne’s baptism. The Morettis had brought in a priest and invited half of New York’s high society. That was when Zora Rossi appeared. She stood in the cathedral doorway wearing a threadbare gray coat, her face gaunt and pale. In a voice as faint as a ghost’s, she called his name. “Bradley.” That single word was enough. Bradley Moretti—always composed, always in control—dropped the glass in his hand. It shattered at his feet. He shoved through the crowd, nearly stumbling in his rush to reach her, then pulled her into his arms. I had never seen him lose control like that. His eyes were bloodshot. His voice cracked as he repeated the same words over and over. “I’m sorry, Zora.” “It was my fault. I never should have left you there alone. I never should have said those things.” “I did this to you.” The entire cathedral fell silent. Everyone watched their tragic reunion unfold. His friends murmured among themselves. “Bradley still loves her.” “She’s finally back.” I stood outside the circle with Anne in my arms, as if I were the one who did not belong. Even then, I kept telling myself it was all right. It was only guilt. I was the woman he loved now. We had Anne. Our family would not fall apart. Then, that night, he came into my room. He stood there in silence for a long time before finally speaking. “Wallis, I want a divorce.” “I’m sorry. Zora was taken because of me. She suffered more than you can imagine, and now she can never have children.” “I owe her more than I can ever repay. I have to spend the rest of my life making it up to her.” The words struck me like lightning. “A divorce? What about Anne? What happens to our daughter?” He looked away. “Zora can’t stand the thought of me having a child.” “I’ll send Anne away.” I beat my fists against his chest, sobbing and demanding to know how he could be so heartless. He did not stop me. He did not defend himself. And he never withdrew his decision. By the time dawn broke, I had nothing left. So I said yes.

Between the lashing and the blizzard, Bradley collapsed in the courtyard. His men rushed to carry him inside and sent for the family doctor. I stood in the corridor, watching shadows move behind the door and listening to Eden’s muffled sobs. All I felt was cold. Back in my room, I began to pack. In three years of marriage, Bradley had given me more jewelry, gowns, paintings, and limited-edition handbags than I could count. Now they stood in neat rows, nothing more than evidence that he had once loved me. I packed only a few changes of clothes and Anne’s necessities. Footsteps sounded outside the door. Bradley entered, supported by two of his men. His face was ashen. The wounds on his back had been treated, but he was still too weak to stand on his own. “Wallis, I’m the one who wronged you.” He swallowed before continuing. “The public will know the divorce was my fault. I’ll tell the press it was amicable. I won’t let anyone think I abandoned you, and I’ll do everything I can to protect your reputation.” He paused. “You’re young. You’re intelligent. None of this was your fault. You still have your whole life ahead of you.” “And I’ll compensate you generously.” I gave him a cold smile. His remorse looked so sincere that anyone else might have believed he was acting in my best interest. A quiet laugh escaped me. “Spare me the performance, Bradley.” He blinked. I walked up to the man I had once loved more than anyone in the world. “This isn’t about protecting me. You just want to stop feeling guilty before you marry Zora.” “You say you can’t lose her again. Then what was I to you for the past three years?” He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Some things can’t be fixed, Wallis,” he finally said. “Not everyone gets a happy ending.” I studied him in silence. This was the man I had once trusted with my life, now dressing up his cruelty as tragedy. “So Anne and I together still matter less than your regret.” My own calm frightened me. He flinched, but his answer remained the same. “I’m sorry.” I turned away, but my mind dragged me back to an old photograph. Zora stood on a training field in a white tank top, smiling wide and bright. I had knocked a manila envelope to the floor by accident. Bradley had lost his temper with me—one of the only times he ever had. He pushed me aside and bent to retrieve the photograph, handling it with the care of a man recovering a sacred relic. Later, he threw it into the fireplace in front of me, pulled me into his arms, and said, “From now on, you’re the only woman in my heart.” I believed him. I thought we would spend the rest of our lives together. But perhaps the ending had been written from the beginning. Some feelings never die. They only wait for the right name to bring them back.

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The day before the engagement banquet, I changed the bride’s name to another woman’s. Because I’d finally realized that the most important person in my fiancé Ethan’s heart wasn’t me. It was my best friend, Lily. It started with my birthday dinner. When we were ordering, Ethan asked what I wanted to eat. I said, “Whatever you like.” By the time all the dishes arrived, the entire table was covered in spicy food. But three days earlier, I’d been hospitalized for acute gastritis. The doctor had explicitly told me to avoid anything spicy. Ethan knew this perfectly well. And yet there he was, piling spicy dishes onto my plate without a second thought. “Lily just got back in town,” he said casually. “I told her to come celebrate your birthday with us. The more the merrier, right?” I gripped my glass of ice water, a dull ache spreading through my stomach. Again. Lily. The friend I’d grown up with. And the first person she’d contacted when she returned to the country was my boyfriend. I looked up at him. Ethan didn’t seem to notice anything wrong. He was studying the menu, absently picking the bones out of a piece of fish. He placed the tenderest fillet on the empty plate in front of Lily’s seat. She hadn’t even arrived yet. But her plate was already taken care of. There was a time I would’ve made a scene. I would’ve snatched his phone, told him point-blank: “We’re a couple. Date night means just the two of us.” But now, I simply nodded. “Sure.” Ethan blinked, caught off guard. He probably hadn’t expected me to be this calm. He quickly looked back down and snapped a photo, posting it to our group chat — the one with all three of us. “Little foodie, saved this just for you. Get here soon or there’ll be nothing left but bones.” I stared at the message. The ache in my stomach crept upward, settling into my chest. I set down my chopsticks and picked up my bag. Ethan was grinning at his phone screen. He didn’t even notice me stand up. Just as well. Some departures were never meant to include a goodbye. … Twenty minutes later, Ethan finally texted. “You’ve been in the bathroom forever. Lily’s here — she’s already eating.” I sat in the back of a taxi, staring at the screen, my eyes stinging. I had been gone for twenty minutes. He thought I’d gone to the restroom. He hadn’t even noticed I’d taken my bag. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Miss, you want me to keep circling?” I was quiet for a few seconds. Did I want to keep going? Keep waiting for him to realize I was gone. Keep waiting for him to ask, “Where are you?” Keep waiting for him — just once — to choose me when a third person walked through the door. And then what? I’d go back? My phone buzzed. A message from a contact saved as “N.” “Is your stomach still hurting? I had someone pick up some medicine. I’ll bring it to you tomorrow.” I looked at it for a few seconds, then replied: “No need. I won’t be home tomorrow.” The response came quickly: “Okay. Get some rest.” I closed the chat and said to the driver, “Stop circling. Take me to my parents’ place.” The car had just merged onto the main road when Ethan texted again. “Are you upset again?” “Lily came back from her trip and even brought you a gift. Walking out without a word is pretty rude, you know.” “Again.” Funny word. It meant he knew this wasn’t the first time I’d been hurt because of Lily. It also meant he’d always thought I was making a big deal out of nothing. Lily had come back to the country today. Ethan knew. I didn’t. Two days ago, she’d messaged me: “Emma, I really can’t get away. I’ll definitely make it back by Sunday for your engagement.” I’d even reassured her. Told her it was fine. Told her to take care of herself. But she’d flown back on Friday. And gone straight to Ethan. It suddenly hit me — this was my fifth birthday since Ethan and I got together. The first year, Lily had insisted on joining us. Ethan had frowned and said, “Can’t we have some time alone? Your friend really doesn’t take a hint.” I’d laughed and teased him for being jealous. The second year, he was the one who suggested it. “Invite Lily. More people, more fun.” By the third and fourth years, I didn’t even have to say anything. He’d already arranged it. It was always the three of us. Dinner, shopping, trips. Every time, I sat on the sidelines watching them talk about things I couldn’t follow. This year, Lily was away on a business trip. I thought I’d finally have a birthday that was just ours. A few days ago, Ethan had held me and said, “This year it’s just the two of us. We’ll do it right.” I’d been happy about that for days. Looking back now, it was laughable. I opened the group chat. Lily had posted a string of photos — all of the spicy dishes on the table. She’d also shared the same pictures on her social media, captioned: “Someone knows I can’t live without spice. He really gets me.” Comments appeared almost immediately: “The three of you reunited again? You guys are literally inseparable.” Lily replied with a laughing emoji. I stared at the word “inseparable.” Every time I saw something like that, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. They all thought the three of us came as a package deal. But what I’d wanted was never to be crammed into the same photo with two other people. And certainly not to end up as the one who got cropped out. Soon, another comment appeared: “Who ordered a whole table of spicy food? Doesn’t Emma have a thing about spice?” I held my breath. The next second, Ethan replied: “She’s too prissy. Couldn’t hang with us.” I actually laughed. Two days ago, he had been the one who drove me to the hospital. The medical chart said in bold letters: avoid spicy and irritating foods. He’d promised he would remember. And it had been — what — two days? My inability to eat spicy food had become “prissy.” Today was my birthday. He’d promised to spend it with just me. And now it was me who couldn’t hang with them. The taxi stopped at a red light. My phone lit up again. Ethan had sent a voice message. “Emma, where’d you go? I slipped up — I forgot you can’t eat spicy—” I didn’t listen to the rest. I pressed the screen dark. Outside the window, the city lights stretched on like a runway with no end. I had been running on this track for five years. I’d always believed the finish line was his arms. Now I saw it for what it was — a loop. The start and the finish were both just me. And he had never once changed course for me.

By the time I turned the key in the lock, my parents were already asleep. A sticky note was pressed to the refrigerator, in my mother’s handwriting. “Sweetheart, if you come home, the cake is on the second shelf. Happy birthday.” If. She didn’t even know whether I’d come back. But she’d made me a cake anyway. I opened the fridge. A white cake box sat there, quiet and still. I scooped a bit of frosting with my finger and put it in my mouth. It was sweet. I was halfway through when Ethan called. I hesitated, then picked up. “You didn’t come home. Where are you?” I said nothing. Didn’t come home? I did come home. I’d even packed up all my things. Half the closet was empty. The vanity was bare. But he hadn’t noticed. His attention had always been on the person who wasn’t there. “Emma, if you have something to say, just say it.” Ethan’s voice was edged with impatience. “Lily came all the way back, and you just took off. It’s awkward for everyone.” I took a bite of cake. The frosting stuck in my throat. I let out a small laugh. So in his eyes, I was the one who’d made things awkward today. The two of them had eaten happily, posted photos, replied to comments, tagged each other. He remembered Lily liked spicy food. Remembered which kind of fish she preferred. He forgot I was still sick. Forgot I couldn’t eat spicy food. Forgot that I was the birthday girl. I hung up. A flood of old memories surged forward. Back in school, Lily’s family had been struggling. Her mother had gone to mine, invoking their old friendship, asking for help with Lily. My mother paid her tuition. My teacher asked me to tutor her. After graduation, her credentials weren’t strong enough. She hit walls everywhere looking for work, so I recommended her to a good company. Later, she used my connections to get into Ethan’s startup. And then, inch by inch, she moved closer to Ethan. While I was pushed to the margins. My mother got up in the middle of the night and found me sitting at the dining table. She froze. “Sweetheart, what are you doing home? Where’s Ethan?” She was still half-asleep, but worry had already crept into her eyes. “I missed you guys,” I said softly. She walked over, smoothed my hair, and didn’t ask anything else. I knew she was waiting for me to be ready to talk. But I couldn’t bring myself to say it. How was I supposed to tell her that her daughter had spent her birthday sitting in front of a table full of food she couldn’t eat, then taken a taxi home alone? How was I supposed to tell her that the man she believed would marry me couldn’t even be bothered to say, “Where are you? I’ll come get you”? I opened my phone. Ethan hadn’t sent any more messages. He probably figured he’d done enough to smooth things over. And I figured I’d had enough. I didn’t want to wait anymore. At one in the morning, I lay in bed and scrolled through my chat history with Ethan one last time. I swiped back to our first year together. He hadn’t been so busy then. There hadn’t been so many “something came up” excuses. He used to video-call me every night. One message made me stop. “From now on, every birthday of yours — I’ll spend it with just you.” “I missed all the ones before. I’m going to make up for every single one.” And he had. He’d bought twenty small cakes. Prepared twenty gifts. Made up for every birthday I’d ever had. I burst out laughing when I blew out the tenth candle, and frosting sprayed all over his face. Those memories were so good. Good enough that I almost softened again. My phone buzzed. Ethan. “Emma, I packed up the leftovers and put them in the fridge. Heat them up tomorrow — they’ll still be good.” “I also ordered an extra fish dish you like. Not spicy.” I stared at the dish he’d named, and laughed out loud. He’d gotten it wrong. Again. That was Lily’s favorite dish. She ordered it every single time we ate out. I’d told him to his face that I didn’t like it. Too rich. He’d been sitting right there and said, “Then eat something else.” He only remembered what Lily liked. He never remembered what I didn’t like. I opened his social media page. I thought he would have at least posted something about my birthday, the way he had in previous years. But his latest post was a photo of himself and Lily at the restaurant. The caption read: “Old friend’s back in town. Had to celebrate.” No mention of me. No mention that today was my birthday. I closed the page and deleted our entire chat thread. Memory cleared. From now on, my birthday had nothing to do with him.

The next morning, I woke at dawn. Three missed calls on my phone. All from Ethan. And a message. “Call me when you’re up. Lily’s mom is arriving in the city tonight. Go pick her up from the station.” A second one followed right after. “Lily’s coming with me to meet a big client. I want her to get some practice. Help me out and pick up her mom, would you? She said last time she really liked you.” I looked at the screen. It was almost funny. Almost. Ethan’s memory could be remarkably sharp when it suited him. He remembered that Lily’s mother had made an offhand comment six months ago about “liking” me. He remembered that I was the person who could run errands, lend a hand, show up whenever and wherever he needed. He just couldn’t remember how I felt. Or that we’d had a fight just yesterday. I got up and washed my face. I was about to head out when my mother came from the kitchen carrying a bowl of congee. “Sweetheart, where are you going? I wanted to talk to you about the engagement tomorrow.” She’d barely finished speaking when a message from the hotel arrived. “Ms. Emma, Mr. Ethan has confirmed the menu for tomorrow’s engagement banquet. Please review the attachment.” “If any changes are needed, please contact us by 5 p.m. today.” I opened the attachment. A dozen or so dishes on the menu. One glance told me everything — all spicy. I kept scrolling. The head table flowers had been changed from white tulips to red roses. The background music had been switched to “Slowly Falling for You.” The dessert station had gone from fruit tarts to a chocolate fountain. I didn’t know why Ethan had allowed these changes. But I knew that red roses were Lily’s favorite. The chocolate fountain was the thing she’d once called “like a fairy tale.” And that song was her ringtone. As for me — I was allergic to chocolate. I didn’t cry. I didn’t tremble. I simply replied, very calmly: “That’s fine. Could you help me with one last change?”

When I was done, I turned off my phone. My mother was still going over tomorrow’s plans beside me. “Your uncle keeps asking. I’m thinking, if you two want to move the wedding up after the engagement, I’ll push back some of my other commitments…” She picked up her phone as she talked. “Actually, we need to discuss this with Ethan. Let me call him over.” “Mom.” I placed my hand over hers. “We don’t need him to come.” My mother froze. I didn’t explain. I took a taxi to the apartment Ethan and I had been sharing. I’d left in such a rush the night before that I’d forgotten my passport in the bedroom drawer. After retrieving it, I walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. The takeout container from last night was sitting inside. I picked it up and dropped it straight into the trash. Then I closed the door. And didn’t look back. … The engagement banquet was scheduled for noon the next day. Inside the ballroom of a five-star hotel, servers were setting up the head table. Ethan arrived with Lily. As soon as Lily walked in, she set her bag on a chair and complained in that half-joking, half-serious way of hers: “Honestly, Emma. She made my mom wait forever at the station yesterday.” “Ethan, you spoil her too much. Being your fiancee doesn’t give her the right to act like that.” Ethan’s expression was stiff. “I sent my assistant to pick her up in the end. Your mom didn’t wait that long. Forget it.” Lily paused, then said softly: “But last night we were with the client so late, we just stayed over. Emma’s not going to be upset about that, is she?” “I mean, your engagement is today, and you spent the night before with another woman. No matter how you look at it…” Ethan cut her off. “It was work. What’s there to be upset about?” “This client matters. If we close the deal, I can buy her a wedding apartment downtown. Paid in full.” His expression softened slightly as he said this. He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a gift box. Inside was a necklace. Emma had looked at it many times. But the company’s cash flow had been tight, and she’d always been frugal. She couldn’t bring herself to buy it. On Friday night, he hadn’t had a chance to give her the birthday present before she left. He was, in truth, a little angry. He thought she was being unreasonable. That she’d picked the wrong time and place to throw a fit. But he had forgotten she couldn’t eat spicy food. Fine. He’d take out the necklace in a little while. Apologize. Hold her. She was always easy to win back. Every time she got upset, all he had to do was make the first move, and she’d come around. Ethan walked to the door of the bridal suite and took a deep breath. He pushed it open. “Emma, I’m sorry about your birthday. I—” The words died in his throat. He stood frozen.

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Dominic had a rule. No one outside the family stayed overnight. Six years of marriage, and even my parents never got an exception. Last year my mother took the subway in from Brooklyn with a cast on her leg. She had a follow-up with the orthopedist in Manhattan the next morning and wanted to stay one night. Just one. Dominic pulled me into the bedroom and shut the door. “Your mother snores. I have a sit-down with the Lucianos tomorrow morning. You want me walking in there half-asleep?” That night I booked her a room at the motor inn down on Flatbush. I crawled into bed and cried until dawn, pressing my face into the pillow so no one would hear. After that, my mother never asked again. She said she didn’t want to be a bother. But I knew the truth—she didn’t want to make things harder for me. Until today. I came back early from a business trip to Boston—a distributor contract that needed my signature. I unlocked the front door of our brownstone on the Upper East Side and the smell hit me before anything else. Dominic was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled to his elbows, stirring the pot like he’d been doing it all afternoon. In the living room, Sofia Valenti sat on the sofa beside her mother, both of them watching television as if they lived here. Carmela Valenti smiled when she saw me. “Three months now, Nico cooks for me every night. Better than a son, I tell you.” Nico. The name only family used. Sofia was wearing a velvet house robe—the same one Dominic wore. Sleeves pushed up to her forearms, bare feet on my Persian rug, as natural as breathing. “Elena! We didn’t expect you back so soon. The place is a mess, I’m sorry.” I didn’t answer. I slid the ring off my finger—the platinum band engraved with the Conti family crest, the one Dominic had placed on my hand the day we married—and set it on the credenza by the door. Then I turned and walked out. My mother once said she wouldn’t come back. She meant it. So did I. …… The motor inn on Flatbush was still there. Half the letters on the sign were burnt out, flickering in the rain. I dragged my suitcase through the lobby. The girl at the front desk asked how many nights. “One.” She handed me a key card. The room number was two doors down from last year’s. I pushed inside. The sheets were stiff from overwashing. The window wouldn’t close all the way, and traffic noise from the BQE poured in like a tide that never ebbed. My mother had stayed on this floor. Cast on her leg, afraid to worry me, telling me over the phone: “The room is fine, sweetheart. There’s hot water. It’s close to the hospital.” The next morning when I came to pick her up, there was a half-empty glass of water on the nightstand, untouched since the night before. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyes bloodshot, and the first thing she asked was: “Did Nico’s meeting go well?” I’d made excuses for him then. Said his sit-down was important. Said the rule about overnight guests was just how things worked. Said if you break it once, you can never say no to anyone again. My phone buzzed and dragged me back. A text from Dominic. 【You walk in and make a scene? Carmela made soup for you and you just left. That’s disrespectful.】 I sat on the edge of the bed, watching the screen glow and fade. Three minutes later, he called. “Elena, where are you?” “The motel.” I heard a pan clang against a plate on his end. His voice dropped a degree. “You actually went to a motel? The house is right there. Who is this performance for?” I stared at the mildew stain above the headboard. “You said no guests stay overnight.” A beat of silence. “Sofia and Carmela are different. Her father died for this family. They’re not guests, they’re blood.” “Three months is not ‘a few days,’ Dominic.” “Elena, don’t nitpick.” He lowered his voice. “Fine. Carmela’s a light sleeper anyway. Stay there tonight. Don’t come back late and wake her.” I almost laughed. “No important sit-down tomorrow?” “I took the week off. Carmela’s blood pressure has been bad. I need to be here.” He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. Last year, my mother broke her leg, and he was afraid her snoring would cost him a meeting. This year, Carmela’s blood pressure dipped, and he took a whole week off to play devoted son. The rule was never unbreakable. My mother and I just weren’t worth breaking it for. “Are you listening?” His voice was edging toward impatience. “Pick up king crab legs on your way back tomorrow. Sofia likes them. And get Carmela’s blood pressure meds refilled. Oh, and a new pair of house slippers for Sofia—hers got stained.” I was quiet for a few seconds. “Dominic.” He grunted—already moving on, already sure I’d fold. “The credenza by the door. Did you see what’s on it?” “What?” “Never mind.” He hadn’t seen it. The ring was right there on the credenza. All he had to do was look down when he came in. But he never looked down to see what I left behind. After I hung up, I texted Gianna Ricci. 【Start the trust transfer. Everything under my name—La Fontana, the import company, the Arthur Avenue properties. Move it all into an independent trust. And reach out to that distributor in Savannah. Tell them I’m interested.】 She replied within minutes: 【You sure about this?】 【I’m sure.】 Then I messaged my mother. 【Mom, I’m coming to get you in a few days. We’re moving somewhere new.】 She took ten minutes to respond. 【Sweetheart, did you and Nico fight? I won’t come to your house, I promise I won’t. Don’t make trouble because of me.】 I pressed my face into my hands. My shoulders shook and I couldn’t stop them. Next door the television was blaring. Someone was laughing. A long time later, I wiped my eyes and typed back. 【It’s not about you, Mom. It’s about me.】 The next morning I went straight to the office. Dominic sent a shopping list. 【King crab legs, beef shank, skim milk, Carmela’s prescription refills. And a new pair of slippers for Sofia—hers got stained.】 I muted his thread. At noon, Gianna called. “You’re really pulling La Fontana out of the family books? That place is yours and Dominic’s.” I turned the page in front of me, pen hovering over the signature line. La Fontana. A small Italian restaurant tucked into a quiet street in the West Village. Old brick facade, window boxes I’d planted myself—basil and geraniums. Dominic had given it to me as a wedding gift, though it also ran as one of the family’s laundering channels. I was the legal owner. I was also the one who actually loved it. I remembered the day he took my hand and led me into the unfinished space, plaster dust on the floor, his eyes full of light. “Whenever we fight, we come here. After dessert, nothing feels that bad anymore.” That year, he still made pasta when I came home late. Still slid the fried egg from his bowl into mine. Still carefully labeled the jars of pesto my mother sent up from Brooklyn, writing the date in his slanted hand. He wasn’t always like this. That was why I’d lasted this long. “I’m sure. Move forward.” Gianna sighed. “Then come by the restaurant this afternoon to sign the final papers.” I closed the folder. “I’ll be there.” My phone lit up again. Dominic had noticed I wasn’t replying. 【Elena, don’t push it. Carmela is home waiting to eat.】 I turned off the screen and picked up my keys. I was halfway to the elevator when the restaurant manager called. A crowd of women had shown up at La Fontana wanting to throw a party. No reservation on the books. I stopped walking. La Fontana only took reservations. There was no booking for today.

La Fontana was full of laughter. Through the glass door I could see a dozen women crowded around the long table. The tablecloth was mine—hand-stitched Sicilian lace I’d brought back from Palermo, the kind of thing Italian families pass down like heirlooms. Pistachio shells and olive pits were heaped in little mountains across its surface. Behind the bar, Sofia Valenti was working a corkscrew into a bottle of wine. My wine. A 1971 Barolo from Piedmont. My father’s. He’d kept it for over thirty years, and my mother placed it in my hands on my wedding day. “Save it for your happiest day, Elena.” Sofia’s grip was clumsy. The cork snapped in half and red wine splashed across the white marble counter. Someone clapped. “Sofia, this place is gorgeous. Your husband really spoiled you.” Sofia’s cheeks flushed pink. “Oh stop, Nico would be embarrassed.” The table erupted in laughter. “It’s only a matter of time, honey. You two grew up together—that’s stronger than anything.” I pushed the door open. The bell chimed. Every head turned. Sofia froze, then shifted the bottle behind her back. “Elena! I didn’t think you’d be coming by. The restaurant seemed empty, so I brought my mother and some of the ladies over. Nico said you wouldn’t mind.” I looked past her to the wall behind the bar. There used to be a black-and-white photograph hanging there—Dominic and me on opening day, standing in front of the brick wall, paint on his hands, both of us grinning like fools. It had been replaced with a photo of Sofia posing against the geranium wall in a white dress. In her arms was Lucia—my Italian Greyhound. “Where’s Lucia?” Sofia’s smile thinned. “My mother is allergic to dog hair. Nico took her to a boarding kennel. Don’t worry—he paid for a whole year.” A year. I wasn’t home, and he couldn’t even tolerate my dog. The door swung open again. Dominic walked in carrying a cake box, saw me, and frowned first. “What are you doing here?” He set the cake on the table. Carmela waved him over immediately. “Nico, come, come. The ladies are all saying what a good man you are.” Dominic ignored her. He gripped my wrist and pulled me toward the door, his voice low. “Don’t make a scene. It’s Carmela’s birthday. Sofia just borrowed the place for a couple hours.” “Borrowing the place means opening my wine?” “It’s one bottle. I’ll buy you ten.” I looked at him and felt something inside me go very still. “Dominic, do you even remember how this restaurant came to be?” He blinked, thrown. The second year of our marriage, I’d had a miscarriage. For weeks I couldn’t sleep through the night. He brought me to see this old storefront—bare walls, cracked tile, a leak in the ceiling. “We’ll grow herbs together. We’ll cook together. We’ll make our life warm again.” On opening day he carried the first pot of geraniums to the windowsill with his own hands, got paint all over his fingers, and leaned in to nuzzle my nose with his. “Elena, things are only going to get better.” Better. So much better that he’d handed the place to another woman to play house in. “Stop digging up the past.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Carmela just got out of the hospital. Let the old woman have a nice afternoon. Go inside, say something pleasant, don’t make Sofia lose face.” I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Last year my mother broke her leg. Did you ever think about making her happy?” “That’s different.” “How?” He had no answer. Sofia appeared in the doorway, tissue crumpled in her fist, bottom lip trembling on cue. “Elena, don’t blame Nico. It’s my fault. I thought you didn’t come here often, so I borrowed it for my mother’s birthday. I can ask everyone to leave.” She glanced back inside. The women had gone quiet, every one of them listening. Dominic immediately stepped in front of her. “Nobody’s leaving.” He turned to me, voice gone hard. “Elena, enough. You keep throwing your mother’s situation in my face—what’s the point? I wired you money for the hotel, didn’t I?” I didn’t want to argue anymore. I took out my phone and called Danny, the busboy. “Danny, come to La Fontana. I need every tablecloth, every chair cover stripped and boxed. Now.” Twenty minutes later he pulled up in a van. I stripped the lace tablecloths myself—right in front of all those family wives, right in front of the pistachio shells and the spilled Barolo and every pair of watching eyes. In the world they lived in, this was the equivalent of flipping the table. Every woman in that room would carry this story home. Carmela stood up. “What kind of wife does this? Making a scene in front of everyone over a little party?” I dropped the last tablecloth into the box. “Garbage doesn’t stay overnight, Carmela. House rules.” Dominic’s face went dark. I turned away from him and pulled the trust transfer documents from my bag. “You’re pulling the restaurant out of the family? You know what runs through those books.” “My name is on the deed, Dominic. My signature. My liability. I decide what happens to it.” Sofia murmured from behind him. “Nico, let it go. Elena is probably just upset seeing us here.” Dominic stayed planted in front of her, shielding her. “You walk out that door, don’t expect me to come after you.” I signed my name, tucked the papers away, and walked past him. “When have you ever?” The bell over the door rang once more. Behind me I heard the sound of him slamming the cake into the table. Out on the sidewalk, my phone buzzed. A text from the hospital. My mother’s prescription refill was ready. A family member needed to pick it up by tomorrow.

The pharmacy line was long. I stood at the window holding my mother’s chart, waiting for my number to be called. She phoned while I waited. “Don’t worry about the medicine, sweetheart. My leg only hurts when it rains.” “I’ll get it today.” She hesitated a long time before asking. “Is Nico busy lately?” I tightened my grip on the chart. The corner bent under my fingers. “Busy.” “Then don’t fight with him. Every marriage has its bumps.” “The hotel last year was really fine, Mom. The mattress was even softer than home.” She was making excuses for him again. I didn’t know what to say, so I told her to eat on time and hung up. That’s when I heard the familiar voice from the concierge exit across the lobby. “Watch the step.” Dominic came through the private door with Carmela on his arm—one hand steadying her elbow, the other holding a thermos and a stack of medical reports. Sofia trailed close behind, gazing up at him with that look of helpless dependence she wore like perfume. At the curb, Carmela let out a small groan. Dominic bent down instantly. “Is it your knee again? I’ll bring the car around. Don’t move.” A security guard reminded him the emergency lane was no-parking. Dominic pulled a few hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and held them out. “The lady’s knees are bad. Two minutes.” The guard took the money. Didn’t say another word. Sofia spotted me first. “Elena, you’re at the hospital too?” Dominic turned. His eyes dropped to the chart in my hands, and his tone went flat. “What’s wrong with your mother now?” “Picking up her medication.” He glanced at the pharmacy queue, brow furrowed. “Don’t start comparing again. Carmela was really unwell today—that’s why I brought her through the VIP.” “My mother broke her leg last year. Was she not really unwell?” Irritation flickered across his face. “Can you stop putting an edge on every sentence? I really did have a sit-down that week.” Sofia shifted closer to her mother and said softly, “Nico, don’t argue with Elena. If she’s upset, let her take it out on me.” I looked at her. “You’re not worth it.” Her chin dipped. She pressed her lips together and looked away. Dominic stepped forward, half shielding her. “Elena, Sofia’s always been sensitive. Don’t be so aggressive.” I suddenly felt tired of all of it. I used to be sensitive too. After the miscarriage, the sound of a stroller bell on the street below would keep me up all night. Dominic would close the window, pull me against his chest, and whisper, “Don’t be scared. I’m here.” I’d believed, then, that I had been chosen. Firmly and finally. Later he started telling me I was overthinking. Making mountains out of nothing. Making things hard for him. The cruelest thing about having been loved is how long it takes to admit that someone’s heart has already left the room. I reached into my bag and found the Miraculous Medal. Two years ago, Dominic was ambushed by a rival family. Shot in the shoulder. I drove to St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral in Little Italy in the middle of the night and knelt before the statue of the Virgin until morning. I bought the medal at the church gift shop. By the time I got home it was four a.m. and my fingers were blue with cold. Dominic had worn it around his neck for two years, the silver disc pressed against his heart. A few months ago he said the chain didn’t go with his new suits. Took it off and tossed it in the nightstand drawer. It was never just the chain he’d discarded. I dropped the medal into the trash can beside me. The lid swung shut with a soft clang. Dominic’s face went white. “What the hell are you doing?” “Old things. No use anymore.” Carmela shook her head. “Nico, your wife has some temper. Throwing away a holy medal—what kind of woman does that?” Dominic’s phone rang. He turned away to answer, spoke briefly, then relayed the message without looking at me. “Mamma wants us at the house for Sunday dinner. She says to bring Sofia and Carmela.” A pause. “And you, if you’re coming.” If you’re coming. The ordering said everything. My own phone vibrated. A flight confirmation from Savannah. Tomorrow evening, seven forty-five. I tapped confirm. Behind me, Dominic’s impatient voice: “Did you hear me? Don’t be late tonight. Mamma hates waiting.” The pharmacy called my number. While I waited for the prescription bag, I pulled up my messages and texted Gianna. 【File the petition. I’ll sign when I get home.】 This dinner would be my last.

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The day my mother was wheeled into the ICU, I knelt before my husband—the Don of the Valenti family—and begged him for the treatment money. He didn’t lift a finger. He said: “Every dollar this family has was bought with blood. I don’t throw money where there’s no return.” “I had Russo send you a list of private lenders. Clean ones. Handle it yourself.” But a moment later, I heard him on the phone with Serena Kovac, a Hollywood actress looking to break into producing. “The five million’s already in your production account.” “Even if the whole thing tanks, it’s on me. Consider it tuition for learning the business.” That was his new pet project. A twenty-four-year-old actress he called a “strategic asset.” I gripped the insurance denial so tight my nails broke skin. Dominic turned around and saw me standing there. No tears. No scene. No more begging. He nodded approvingly: “Good. That’s what I want to see.” “A Valenti woman doesn’t go crawling to someone else every time things get hard.” “You solve your own problems. That’s how this family survives.” I said a quiet “mm.” “You’re right, Dominic. I’ll solve my own problems.” Just make sure you can live with the consequences. He didn’t look at me again. He straightened his cuffs and left. I pulled out my phone and called my attorney. “Prepare the divorce papers. And those files—the ones that could bring the entire Valenti family to the ground? Get those ready too.” …… By the time Dominic came home, it was nearly one in the morning. I sat in the living room of the Long Island estate. In front of me were the hospital bills, the critical condition notice. And the signed divorce agreement. He walked in, saw me, and only frowned. “Why are you still up?” I looked up at him. “My mother is still in the ICU.” He hung his overcoat on the rack and walked to the bar to pour himself a whiskey. “I know.” His tone was as calm as if he were commenting on the weather. “But you’re no good to anyone running on empty. Rest. Deal with it fresh.” I stared at the glass in his hand, and suddenly thought of that afternoon in the hospital corridor. The way I’d looked when I begged him for money. I’d said: “Dominic, thirty thousand dollars. That’s all. Just to keep her alive.” He’d said: “Amber, people have to learn to accept what they can’t control.” I thought I was already numb, but seeing him come home as if nothing had happened— something still slammed hard against my chest. Dominic finished his whiskey. His gaze fell on the table. “What’s all this?” “Divorce papers.” His hand froze on the glass. A few seconds later, he looked as if he’d heard some absurd joke. “Amber, what are you throwing a fit about now?” I pushed the papers toward him. “I’ve already signed.” He didn’t pick them up. He just looked down at the words, his eyes going cold by degrees. “Because I didn’t give you money?” “No.” My voice was very soft. “It’s because I finally realized today—the Don of the Valenti family could not possibly be short of $30,000.” “You just won’t help me.” Dominic’s expression darkened. “I just don’t want my money to go into a bottomless pit; I won’t get anything in return for giving you $30,000.” I looked up and stared straight at him. “But you gave Serena five million dollars.” Dominic’s face turned grim. “The Serena deal is family business. It’s a laundering channel. It’s not personal.” “I’ve seen the wire confirmations.” I looked at him. “Sent from your personal offshore account. Personal guarantee. You eat the losses.” “You call that family business?” A flash of impatience crossed his eyes. “You went through my desk?” I smiled. So his first reaction wasn’t to explain. It was to blame me for finding out. Dominic set the glass down hard on the table. “Amber, you’re out of control right now. I’m not discussing this with you.” “Your mother’s situation—I understand. But you can’t take your pressure out on me.” I looked at him. “She’s been your mother-in-law for six years. She sat at your table every Thanksgiving.” Dominic looked away. “I never said I wouldn’t help.” “I just don’t think we should hemorrhage money into something with no foreseeable outcome.” After he said it, as if realizing how harsh it sounded, he added: “I can have Dr. Ferraro make calls. Pull some strings at the hospital.” “But the cash—you need to figure that out yourself.” I suddenly felt my stomach lurch. I stood up, picked up the divorce papers, and slid them into the folder. “Tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock. Russo’s office. We sign together and file uncontested.” Dominic stared at me for a long time. “Valentis don’t divorce. The last wife who tried ended up in witness protection—and even that didn’t save her reputation.” “Also, if you leave me, how exactly do you plan to pay for her treatment?” The moment those words landed, my fingers went white. He knew exactly what I feared most. And exactly what I needed most. So he used it to force me to submit. I looked up at him. “I’ll figure it out myself. I always do.” “But Dominic—you might want to think about what I’ll figure out to do with you.” Something shifted in his jaw. A barely perceptible tension. He recovered quickly. His expression turned cold again. “Don’t threaten me, Amber. The last man who threatened this family is feeding crabs off the Rockaways. You want to test whether I make exceptions for blood?” “I’m not threatening the family.” I held his gaze. “I’m warning my husband,a husband who won’t spend thirty thousand to keep my mother alive.” I said nothing more. I turned and went to the bedroom. Before I closed the door, I heard him answer a call in the living room. His voice dropped much lower. “Serena, I’ve gone over the distribution contracts.” “Don’t worry. I’ll be at the signing with you tomorrow.” I knew exactly what I was doing. In this world, betraying the family carried one sentence—and there was no appeals court. But Dominic had taught me something useful over ten years: fear only works on people who still have something to lose. I shut the door, leaned against it, and slowly sank to the floor. A low, dragging ache pulled through my belly. I’d been so consumed with my mother these past days, I never went back for the follow-up. A reminder from the hospital still sat unread in my phone. [Ms. Marchetti, you are currently 7 weeks pregnant. Please schedule your prenatal checkup.] I stared at that line for a long time. Then I pressed the screen dark.

The next day, Dominic didn’t show up at Russo’s office. I waited for him two hours. I called. He didn’t answer. It wasn’t until eleven-thirty that he finally sent a message. [Serena’s signing with Paramount is today. Can’t step away.] The next one popped up right after. [Before you file anything, remember where you are. You’re not some civilian wife walking into family court. You’re inside the organization. Think very carefully about what “leaving” means in our world.] I stood outside the brownstone law office, still holding the unsigned papers. Wind swept up from the street, stinging my eyes. I didn’t reply. I went to the hospital. The doctor said my mother’s condition had worsened. Insurance had denied coverage for the experimental treatment she needed, and the out-of-pocket cost was crushing. Without it, they could only keep her on the basic protocol. “The family really needs to sort out the funding for the advanced treatment. The longer you wait, the greater the risk.” I looked down and said okay. I listed my father’s apartment—the one place that still smelled like him—for emergency sale. Signed the papers with a hand that wouldn’t stop shaking,and maxed out my credit cards. The realtor went quiet for a few seconds when he heard my asking price. “Ms. Marchetti, this is way below market value.” “Can it close today?” “It can, but—are you sure?” I said: “I’m sure.” After I hung up, I crouched in the hospital stairwell, palms slick with cold sweat. A notification popped up on my phone. Serena Kovac had posted something new on Instagram. In the photo, she stood on a stage at a studio lot in a white blazer, shaking hands with a Paramount executive. Dominic sat in the front row, looking up at her with a patience I hadn’t seen from him in a very long time. The caption read: [Signed my first major deal with someone who has my back. So this is what it feels like to be chosen. ] Someone commented below: [Don Valenti is so generous with his people.] Serena replied: [He just said he didn’t want to see me fail on my first try.] I stared at those words, my fingertips going cold inch by inch. That afternoon, Dominic came to the hospital. He stood in the corridor, suit impeccably pressed, holding a manila envelope. “Russo put this together. Private lenders, all vetted. Off the books, no family paper trail. Clean enough that it won’t trigger any federal flags.” “A few of them have decent limits. Should bridge you through.” I stared at the papers. I didn’t take them. He pressed them into my hands. “The money situation—that’s your call.” Then he turned and left. I looked down at the loan applications in my hands, tore them up one by one, and dropped the pieces into the trash. A few minutes later, a nurse came running. “Ms. Marchetti, your mother’s blood pressure is dropping. The doctor needs you to sign off immediately.” My legs buckled. I grabbed the wall just in time to keep from falling. The pain in my lower abdomen flared again. This time, sharper than last night.

They worked on my mother for four hours. When the doctor came out, his mask was still on. “She’s stable for now.” “But she needs the advanced treatment protocol. Without it, we can only do so much.” I nodded. My throat was too dry to speak. The apartment sale closed that same evening. Fire-sale price. The buyer barely hesitated. The moment the funds hit my account, I called the hospital’s financial counselor to authorize the treatment. She glanced up at me from her desk. “Just you, then? No other family?” I said mm. “Your husband?” I didn’t answer. In that moment, my skin burned. I couldn’t look up. I was married to the Don of the most feared family on the Eastern Seaboard. A man whose name made federal judges recuse themselves. Yet I couldn’t get thirty thousand dollars to keep my mother breathing. That night, I went back to the estate to get my documents. The moment I pushed open the front door, I heard a woman’s laughter in the living room. Serena Kovac was sitting on the sofa. In front of her was a bottle of Dom Pérignon, two flutes already poured. Dominic was handing her a glass. When she saw me, Serena jumped to her feet immediately. “Amber! You’re home.” She said it sweetly. But around her neck hung a diamond pendant. I recognized that pendant. Last month, on my birthday, I’d lingered at the Cartier counter for a moment too long. Dominic had said: “The markup on those things is obscene. That’s not your style.” Now it was on Serena’s neck. Dominic frowned at me. “Why are you back?” I looked at him. “This is my home.” Serena’s expression froze for a second. Dominic set the champagne flute down. “Serena closed her deal with Paramount today. I brought her back to grab some contracts.” “And to celebrate, while we’re at it.” While we’re at it. My mother lay in the hospital with tubes in her body. I’d sold my father’s apartment to scrape together the money. And he was here, in our home, celebrating with another woman. Serena ducked her head, voice soft. “Amber, please don’t misunderstand.” “Mr. Valenti was just worried I’d be nervous for my first big signing, so he encouraged me.” She touched the pendant at her throat. “This was a token for the deal. It’s not what you think.” I walked over and looked at the writing on the champagne bottle—a custom engraving. It read: To Serena — First victory down, limitless future ahead. The handwriting was Dominic’s. He’d once told me even a birthday dinner out was unnecessary. Said that kind of sentimentality was pointless for people like us. I didn’t cry. I didn’t yell. I just went to the study, opened the safe, and collected my documents. Dominic followed me in. “Who exactly are you putting on this face for?” I gathered my passport, my birth certificate, and my important papers into my bag. “Move.” He blocked the doorway. “Amber, you’re becoming completely unreasonable.” “Serena is twenty-four. She’s alone in this country with no family. As her patron, is it so wrong for me to look after her?” I looked up at him. “My mother is alone in the ICU too.” “Have you looked after her?” He was caught short. His expression quickly turned cold again. “Your mother’s situation is different from hers.” “How is it different?” “Serena still has a future.” After those words left his mouth, the room went silent. Dominic seemed to realize it himself. But he didn’t apologize. He just turned his face away and said quietly: “What I mean is—every dollar has to factor in return.” I looked at him. My chest felt as though something had been carved out of it with a blade. My mother had no future. So she wasn’t worth it. I had no future either. So I didn’t deserve it. I picked up my bag and walked past him. In the living room, Serena was sipping champagne from her flute. Seeing me, she seemed to gather her courage and said softly: “Amber, honestly? A woman really should be more independent.” “You can’t rely on a man for everything.” I stopped. Dominic stood behind me. He said nothing to stop her. I looked at Serena, and I actually laughed. “Did he teach you that line?” Her face flushed. I nodded. “Then remember it well.” “The day he decides you have no return on investment either, you’ll hear that exact same speech.” I looked at her a moment longer, then added: “And Serena? When that day comes, you won’t have ten years of the family’s financial architecture stored in your head.” “You’ll just have nothing.” Serena’s smile froze. Her eyes darted to Dominic. Dominic’s voice cut in—the same tone I’d heard him use with soldiers who spoke out of turn at sit-downs. “Amber. That’s enough.” I didn’t look back. On my way downstairs, a sharp, dragging pain pulled through my lower abdomen. I braced myself against the elevator wall and stayed there a long time. My palms were drenched in sweat. My phone rang. It was the hospital. “Ms. Marchetti, your mother’s condition has deteriorated again. Please come back immediately.” My vision went black. I nearly collapsed right there in the elevator.

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“Elara, I carved your Ascension Vow into a Mortal Bind.” Lila’s voice dripped with smugness through our mind-link. A lowblood from a fringe clan. Right now, she was laughing like a gambler who just hit the jackpot. Before I could even speak, my fiancé, Kaelen, cut in, already lecturing me. “Lila never touched the Sacred Stone before. She made a tiny mistake. Aren’t you supposed to be the bigger person?” His voice echoed right next to hers. Clearly, they were together, teaming up to screw me over. He snapped the link shut. A cold chill washed over me. Only one minute left on the countdown. Forcing the link back open, all I heard was an annoyed sigh. “Elara, what’s the big deal?! She was just terrified of you leaving us!” “With all your Golden Dragon resources, just hibernate and wait a century for the next cycle!” The countdown hit zero. The array was sealed, locking the Mortal Bind forever. I snapped back to reality and cracked a quiet smile. Kaelen forgot one little thing. Before his Arena Duel this morning, he handed his Blood Sigil to me! So that contract carved into the Sacred Stone right now? Whose blood is it actually binding? I couldn’t wait to find out. I wonder if he’ll still be the ‘bigger person’ the day he realizes he’s trapped in the mortal realm forever. … Half an hour later, Lila posted a tearful apology on the clan forum. “Elara, I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t mean to. I guess my lowblood spiritual energy was just too weak.” She claimed it was her first time touching the Sacred Stone. The energy was overwhelming. She panicked, accidentally overwriting my Dragon Sanctuary Ascension into a Mortal Bind. —the kind of curse that binds you to a human, burning out your dragon core until you turn to ash. She attached a selfie at the end. Half-dragon form, eyes rimmed red. Playing the victim to perfection. “My clan can’t even afford a single Dragon Crystal.” “I was only trying to help Elara test the inscription array.” “I’ll take whatever makes her feel better… even if that means the Council.” “Guess us lowbloods were just born unworthy of pureblood magic.”

The second those messages dropped, the clan forum blew up. Everyone flooded the comments with sympathy for Lila, tearing into me for overreacting. Before I could even type a reply, Kaelen’s dragon-eye avatar lit up. “Elara, say something!” “Lila already apologized. What, you need her groveling and bleeding out just to satisfy your damn ego?” Lila chimed in almost instantly. “Kaelen, please don’t yell at her. It’s all my fault.” That set Kaelen off. “You’re too damn nice. That’s why entitled purebloods like her think they can walk all over you!” “Elara, hibernating for a century until the next Ascension won’t kill you.” “But Lila is different! Her clan even sold the firestone for her sister’s egg just to get her into this trial! She can’t take this kind of shock!” I stared at the screen. My nails dug into my palms so hard that the edges of my dragon scales flared white. Did it hurt? I couldn’t feel a thing. This was the man I grew up with. The one who had protected me for eighteen cycles. When we were young, an Earth Drake slammed into me and snapped my wing bone. He carried me on his back across two valleys, crying the whole way. Swearing he’d tear apart anyone who ever laid a finger on me. And now, for Lila—a girl he’s known for barely six months—he wiped out everything I’d worked for without a second thought.

People in the forum started stirring the pot. “Come on, Golden Dragon Princess. Cat got your tongue?” Lila dropped another voice note. Her tone was sickeningly sweet. “Please, guys, stop attacking Elara.” “I don’t blame her. Kaelen has been spending a lot of time helping me practice Draconic magic lately. She probably just got the wrong idea…” The forum went silent for two seconds. Then, a flood of popcorn emojis took over the screen. “Ooh—so the Princess is just jealous.” “No wonder she won’t let the whole Ascension Vow thing go.” I opened a private chat with Kaelen. “Are you absolutely sure you want me to just drop this?” He replied right away, acting like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “What did you expect? Drag her to the Council and get her banished to the Deadlands? Elara, when did you become so vicious?” I clenched my jaw and typed out one final message— “If you were the one locked into a Mortal Bind today, would you still be so quick to play the bigger person?”

For over ten seconds, the mind-link went dead silent. Then, Kaelen’s arrogant voice cut through. He was convinced I was bluffing. “Let me make this perfectly clear!” “If I were the one locked into a Mortal Bind today, I wouldn’t say a single harsh word to Lila!” “You have no idea how hard she’s had it. Unlike you, Elara, all you care about is your pathetic bloodline!” “It’s about time you learned how to be a real dragon!” The chat exploded. “Lord Kaelen is on another level!” “Now THAT is our future Guardian of the Sanctuary!” I let out a cold laugh. Sick of their mindless ass-kissing, I closed the chat.

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We found them deep in the Sacred Grove,hidden among the laurels. A fierce Alpha scent choked the air.Mingling with the sweet,cloying scent of my sister’s Omega heat. Her clothes were falling off as she clung desperately to him.To the man who,in a past life,had been my mate. I once stood by him,watching him rise from an exiled Bloodrage rogue to the heir of North America’s supreme Silver Moon Syndicate. Heh…she had timed her heat perfectly. She flashed an incredibly smug smile. “Selena,such a powerful Alpha…in this life,I will be the one crowned as his Luna.” “Have fun rotting away in some human college.” I took a step forward.He shoved me back. He pulled her behind him,and his icy wolf eyes locked onto mine.”Who said you could touch her?Get out.” I swallowed every feeling that clawed up my throat. That night,I took my Ivy League letter and left my homeland behind. Ready to start over. …… Bella stood in the center of the Sacred Grove,her fur vest torn to shreds. A wild,victorious grin stretched across her face. She looked like a she-wolf who just sank her teeth into the ultimate prize. “Dad!Mom!” She shouted,her voice dripping with triumph. “I want him!I want him to mark me right now.He’s my mate!” Her manic joy should have stung.It didn’t. My mind drifted back to my past life.I could still see the madness in her eyes just before she died. Faking a friendly visit,she broke into the estate Kane and I shared. But in her hand was a silver dagger coated with wolfsbane. She lunged at me like a madwoman. My loyal Beta pinned her to the floor before she could even get close. She thrashed around,screaming. “Selena,I saw them drug you!I saw them drag you into the woods!” “I let it happen.I wanted your reputation trashed!” “It was the only way Dad would give me that Ivy League spot!” “But those rich Alpha heirs treated me like a plaything!They ruined my life!” “I lost everything!You married a Bloodrage rogue!Why do you get to have it all?It isn’t fair!” “If I got one chance,you’d be the one tossed to the human world to suffer!” As the guards moved to drag her away,she shoved them back.She vaulted over the balcony edge,plummeting to her death.

And now,in this new life. She moved faster than I could.Drugging Kane with a heat-inducing herb,she forced herself on him. Kane’s eyes were still glazed over from the drug. But the moment she demanded to be his mate,his ears turned red. He stared down at her.His voice clumsy but serious. “I’ll take responsibility for this.I’ll spend my life protecting you.” The exact same vow he made to me in my past life. But my parents exploded first. They turned and slapped me across the face. My cheek burned. “You’re supposed to be the older sister!” “If you watched her,she wouldn’t have snuck into the woods!Now some rogue has defiled her!” “You ruined her life.You’re a curse from the Moon Goddess.” They tried to drag Bella away,refusing to bless the mate bond. The pack only knew a daughter of our family got into trouble.They planned to make me take the fall. Even though the timeline had changed,when it all came down to it,I was still the sacrificial lamb. My heart went cold.

Bella leaned in,whispering Kane’s true identity to them. My parents’faces shifted.They eyed Kane up and down,then nodded. “If what you said is true,then this bond…should be made.” “If it turns out to be a lie,come back.Your sister can take your place.” Fearing I would steal him away,Bella demanded the mating ceremony take place that night. And to top it off,she forced me to help prepare the celebration. The pack talked behind her back,calling her shameless. Nobody set foot inside the venue.They stood outside,tossing out nasty insults. Bella’s eyes turned red with rage.She pointed at them and screamed. “Wait till my Alpha reclaims his throne!You pathetic losers will crawl to me like dogs!” The pack roared with laughter. Mom took her anger out on me,pinching my arm viciously. “They’re humiliating your sister!Are you just going to stand there?” She hurried inside to comfort Bella. Dad flipped the table.A wooden bowl of ritual wine splashed all over my dress. “Clean it up now,or I’ll punish you myself.” Nursing my bruised arm,I stood frozen.Numb inside. A red wildflower was pinned to Kane’s chest.He walked in with a satisfied smile,only to catch the whole scene.

Without pausing,he marched directly toward me. My chest tightened. Fifty years of past-life memories flooded my brain. I remembered how he used to shield me when my parents beat me.When the pack pushed me away. My throat closed up.I wanted to scream his name. But his voice cut like ice. “Watch yourself.Don’t ever try to hurt your sister again.” I froze,staring at him in shock. He stepped into my space,backing me against the wall. His dominant Alpha aura crushed me. He grabbed my chin,his words laced with venom. “Bella told me how you treat her.You love bullying her.” “You lured her into the Sacred Grove.She stumbled upon me while I was drugged.Now her innocence is gone and that is on you!” “Then you brought some pack members here just to destroy her reputation!” “How could you be this cruel?” A boulder slammed into my chest.I bit down on my lip. “I brought them to save you…” He scoffed,cutting me off.He looked at me like I was a stranger and a threat. “Enough.Save your fake tears and lies.” “Pray you never fall into my hands again,Selena.I’ll make you pay for this ten times over.” The last spark of warmth in my heart flickered and died.

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