Author: Momo Chan

In the Silverblade Pack, everyone knew my husband, Orion Vale, and I were a pair of mated enemies. Because he was the mate I had forced into the bond. Throughout our eight-year marriage, we spent every day wishing the other dead. He poisoned my meals, while I slipped needles into his shoes. I hated that years of love had failed to move him, because his heart had always belonged to another woman. He hated that I used a debt of gratitude to bind him to me. In his eyes, I was the one who drove the woman he loved to her death. However, when Rogues attacked the Silverblade Pack and we were on the verge of capture, he gave me the only path to survival. Then he used himself as bait to draw the enemy away. “Victoria, run.” His body was covered in wounds as he turned back to look at me. “I’m going to see Margaret. I hope we never meet again in another life. I only ever loved her.” When I arrived with the warriors of the Silverblade Pack, all that remained was his shattered, mangled body. Later, I went alone into the Rogue camp and slaughtered every last one of them. When my strength was finally spent, I fell into an eternal sleep, never to wake again. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to a time before we were ever marked. I found my father, Alpha William, and voluntarily refused the moonlit bonding with Orion. “This time, I will take the undercover mission,” I said. “You want to take Margaret’s place and go undercover beside the Wasteland Lord, and give up becoming Orion’s mate?” Dad stared at me for a long moment, clearly unconvinced. After all, everyone in the Silverblade Pack knew that I had never gotten along with my stepsister, Margaret Ashford. I had even beaten her up more than once. I had also publicly declared that Orion Vale was the only mate I would ever have, warning off any her wolves who dared covet him. No one believed I would give up the mating bond and volunteer to infiltrate the Rogues in Margaret’s stead. “Your moonlit bonding with Orion is only ten days away,” Dad said. “Have you really thought this through?” I paused briefly before answering in an even tone. “You’ve always said that Margaret lost her father and that I should yield to her, right?” A flicker of conflicted emotion crossed my father’s face. Ever since he remarried, he kept telling me to rein in my temper. He wanted me to take extra care of Margaret, afraid she might feel unwelcome in our home. In my previous life, if I hadn’t reminded him that Mom died saving him, he would probably have changed the drawing result to my name without hesitation. In the end, he canceled my moonlit bonding and wrote my name on the Rogue undercover list instead. When I walked out of the Pack House, I ran straight into Orion. In my previous life, he had rushed into the Pack House just like this, covered in mud, dropped to one knee in the office, and begged Dad to revoke Margaret’s undercover assignment. Back then, I had tied Orion up without hesitation and dragged him away. After that, I had forced him to sign the mate bond with me. This time, I merely rubbed my shoulder where he had bumped into me and stepped aside to leave. Orion reached out and stopped me, a flash of anger and confusion crossing his eyes. I brushed his hand away and got straight to the point. “The selection of the undercover agent by drawing lots is a rule of the Silverblade Pack.” His voice turned cold. “Give me a little more time, and I will find the Rogues’ weakness. Using a woman to infiltrate the Wasteland Lord and steal intelligence isn’t the only option.” I smiled faintly. The situation was urgent. There was no time to spare. If this dragged on, more Pack members would be dragged into the conflict. Right now, choosing either Margaret or me to infiltrate the Wasteland Lord and secure critical intelligence was the path with the least sacrifice and the highest chance of success. “Either Margaret or I will have to go undercover,” I said coolly. “No matter how long you beg, that fact won’t change.” He clenched his fist and swept me with his gaze. “As long as you don’t stir up trouble in front of Alpha William, there might be another way.” Watching him defend Margaret so resolutely, I suddenly lost all interest. I swallowed every word that had risen to my throat. “Suit yourself. The application has already been submitted. You’ll be satisfied when the time comes.” With that, I strode away, leaving a stunned Orion behind. I had originally planned to lay everything out in the open, but now I didn’t feel like it anymore. In my previous life, he wished for my death anyway. A little more hatred or a little less made no real difference. On his wedding day, when he sees I’m not the one standing there, I suppose he’ll be glad. In my previous life, he gave me the only path to survival, shoved me out of the encirclement, and bore every attack alone until he vomited blood and died. Thinking of that still made my throat tighten. I had always believed that as long as I kept him by my side, things would eventually get better. But he had chosen to leave me the chance to live and die alongside Margaret instead. Since Orion saved my life in my previous life, I would consider this my repayment.

The first thing I did after returning home was study how to win this war. The Rogues had a powerful leader known as the Wasteland Lord. He was the one who united all the Rogues. In order to seize resources, he began attacking the surrounding packs. In my previous life, Margaret had been sent to infiltrate his side. She was exposed in less than three months and tortured to death in every imaginable way. We never obtained any intelligence. Worse still, our location was directly exposed. The war reignited as a result, with devastating casualties. Later, Orion died under a hail of enemy gunfire while protecting me. If everything truly returned to the beginning, maybe this time I could prepare in advance. I sat at my desk and thought the whole night through, never once falling asleep. The next morning, I changed into casual clothes and prepared to head out. The moment I opened the door, a cold gun barrel pressed against my head. “Why do you insist on making things hard for Margaret?!” Orion said. I froze for a split second, then raised my hand to knock the gun away. But Orion twisted my arm and pinned it behind me. His grip was so strong that I couldn’t help sucking in a sharp breath. “Orion, let go,” I snapped. I lifted my leg and kicked backward hard, but he only forced me down more brutally. “Victoria, do you really want to become my mate that badly?” Orion said. “So badly that you’re willing to let Margaret die? You’re so selfish and cold-blooded. What right do you have to be loved?” I went rigid. Scenes from our previous life, when we hurled vicious words at each other, suddenly flashed before my eyes, perfectly overlapping with what he was saying now. I snapped back to reality, drove my foot into his lower abdomen, grabbed the gun he dropped in pain, and turned to aim it at his forehead. “Orion, are you planning to shoot me inside the territory?” I said. The pain sobered him instantly. He looked up at my swollen hand, still trembling, and the fury in his eyes turned into regret. His tone softened unconsciously. “I’m sorry. I acted on impulse.” I ignored him and tossed the gun at his feet. “Someone has to be sent on this mission. You don’t need to take it out on me. Maybe the final outcome will be exactly what you want. Why don’t you go back and focus on preparing for your moonlit bonding?” Orion did not catch the bitterness in my voice. He bent down, picked up the gun dejectedly, and let out a self-mocking laugh. “Not everyone is as cold-blooded as you. How can I be thinking about the moonlit bonding at a time like this…” I took a deep breath and walked away, face expressionless. I clenched my teeth so hard they nearly bled, forcing myself not to look back. This time, Orion would get exactly what he wanted. When I returned that evening, Orion had someone leave a plate of my favorite nut pancake on my desk. There were no pancake shops within the territory. I figured he must have gone out of his way to buy it from the grand hotel outside. I did not take a single bite. I knew he did this only to repay my mom for taking him in back then and raising him after bringing him home. He had always treated me as his younger sister. It was I who had stubbornly clung on, unwilling to accept a relationship that was nothing more than deep friendship.

Approval for the undercover mission came through quickly. The cancellation of my mate binding application with Orion, however, was kept strictly confidential. I specifically instructed Dad to tell only Margaret, in private, that I would be taking her place for the undercover assignment. All she needed to do was resubmit her mate binding application with Orion. I asked that everyone else be informed only on the day of her and Orion’s moonlit bonding. After reviewing all materials and intelligence related to this mission, I burned them up. I considered it a surprise that I was preparing for Orion. But Orion knew nothing about it. He seemed listless every day. Whenever he had the chance, he went to the leadership, trying to get the undercover candidate replaced. That afternoon, just after I walked out of the cafeteria, I happened to see Orion and Margaret sitting together in the garden. Having learned that she could be with the man she loved, Margaret was smiling more brightly than ever. “Orion, what are you weaving?” Margaret asked. “I’ve never seen that before.” Orion was holding several bundles of wild grass. His fingers bent and looped with practiced ease, and soon the grass took shape as a straw-woven grasshopper. “Just some useless little trinket,” he said with a brief smile. I found it painfully ironic. My mom taught him that straw-weaving skill. When she was still alive, she used to weave things like that to amuse me. After she sacrificed herself to protect the territory, the one who comforted me became Orion. Then Margaret appeared, and even the little joy I had left was taken from me bit by bit. I resented Margaret and my stepmother for stealing the affection that once belonged to me. I had even forced Orion not to accompany Margaret or play with her. Orion, in turn, accused me of being unreasonable and making trouble out of nothing. “What do you want?” Orion asked gently. Margaret glanced at me, a playful smile tugging at her lips, her expression innocent. “How about making a rabbit?” Orion froze. I turned and walked away. A straw-woven rabbit was the last thing Mom ever made for me. Our former home had been attacked by Rogues and burned to ashes. The only thing Mom was able to leave me was that final straw-woven rabbit. Margaret had never cared about things like that. She only wanted to provoke me. I did not leave calmly, nor did I dodge or hide. When I turned my head, Orion was looking over, but I ignored him. That night, a small box appeared outside my bedroom door. When I opened it, there was a straw-woven rabbit inside. The craftsmanship was distinctive. I knew at once that Orion had made it. “How childish,” I muttered. I turned around and went back into my room, leaving the rabbit outside. When I opened the door the next morning, the rabbit was still there. I stared at it for a long moment, then finally picked it up and took it with me.

Dad held a simple farewell gathering within the territory. When I came out of the training grounds, I saw Margaret sitting right at the center of the crowd, looking reluctant to leave. “I never expected the draw to pick you,” someone said. “As Alpha William’s biological daughter, Victoria should have stepped up to protect the territory, instead of using her status to force Orion into a mate bond. Margaret, I’m so sorry for you.” “Exactly. Victoria didn’t even show her face to thank you. You’re the real hero here. You’re going undercover, one wrong move and you could die. And she doesn’t even bother to attend,” another chimed in. I saw a flash of smugness flicker through the tears in Margaret’s eyes. The moment she met my gaze, she froze. She probably never expected me to show up. After all, we had never gotten along, and this gathering was held for her. No one thought I would attend. Watching the panic on her face, I gave a faint, amused smile and took a seat. The people beside me noticed and their expressions changed at once. “Why is she here? To show off?” “What’s with that attitude? Margaret is clearly better than her! Unlike Victoria, her own sister is about to take on a deadly mission, and she doesn’t even react. How could Alpha William have such a heartless daughter?” someone said. I did not argue with them. They were comrades who had fought side by side. In my previous life, most of them had ended up dead or severely injured. Being able to stand here now, full of energy and gossiping, was already a blessing. I watched them joke around for a while, then felt bored and stood up to leave. Margaret followed behind me and called out, “Wait, Victoria.” I turned and stopped. She walked over and linked her arm through mine in an intimate gesture. “Dad already told me,” she said softly. “You were the one who withdrew the mate bond request with Orion. He’s always liked me anyway, so it doesn’t count as me stealing him, right?” She paused, then added, “The draw picked me, yes—but I’m basically giving you this huge chance to earn merit. Surely chatting a little with our comrades isn’t too much?” I laughed outright and narrowed my eyes at her. “Merit? You think you could earn any if you went instead?” She froze. “Margaret, your training results are terrible, and your real combat experience is basically zero,” I said coldly. “Do you really think the battlefield is a child’s game? If Dad hadn’t shielded you, you wouldn’t even qualify for the guard unit.” I let out a short laugh. “You should be thanking me for taking your place. I didn’t expect you to be stupid enough to think you were actually capable.” Her face went ashen. Then her eyes shifted, and a strange smile curved on her lips. Before I could react, she grabbed my hand and slapped herself across the face. “Victoria, why would you…?” She cried out. I was just about to say, Who are you even putting on this pathetic act for— The next moment, a familiar figure rushed in front of me and shoved me without hesitation. My lower back slammed into the rockery behind me. A dull pain exploded through my body. Orion’s face was dark as he pulled Margaret behind him. He stared at me with naked resentment. “Victoria, when did you become this aggressive?” he said. “She’s about to carry out an undercover mission in a few days. If she gets hurt, are you willing to take her place?” I covered my face, disbelief flooding in. “You hit me? Did you even look clearly? Just now it was obvious—” “That’s enough.” Orion cut me off. His face was grim, his voice cold enough to freeze. “You’ve been arrogant and domineering since childhood. I thought you were just straightforward, but I never imagined you’d even go after your own sister.” “You were raised in the same household. Margaret carries the Silverblade Pack in her heart, while you’re vicious and jealous. I don’t even know who taught you to be like this. If you ask me, Mrs. Ashford was driven to her death by you!” he added. “Orion, enough,” I cried. A sharp slap rang out. My palm landed squarely on his face. I was breathing hard, my eyes red as I glared at him. Orion turned his head aside and said nothing. In the eight years of marriage in my previous life, we had exchanged cruel words like this every day. But this was the first time he crossed my bottom line. “You’re the last person who has any right to talk about my mother!” I snapped. I turned away, clutching my already bruised lower back, and limped forward. Orion seemed to realize I was injured. He caught up in a few strides and scooped me up in his arms. Behind us, Margaret was still sobbing softly. “Orion, I—” But Orion did not even let her finish. He carried me away at a fast pace.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619lKC310rgkP 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni549033”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

The night before the Family gala, my husband’s so-called sister, Ravenna Volkov, put my eighteen-year-old niece’s first night up on the Labyrinth, and a circle of old made men crowdfunded the bid. By morning, Lily was dead. A whole bottle of pills. The body under the sheet doesn’t look like a person anymore. Lucas catches me before I drop. In front of every man in the room, he swears it. “On my father’s name, Vivian. I find who did this, I bury him myself.” I let him hold me. I let the tears fall. I let my knees go weak against his chest. Say it louder, Lucas. The earring picks up everything past forty decibels. Then Ravenna walks in. Heels clicking. Whiskey in her hand. She drops onto the couch and throws her legs over the armrest. “Babe. That was me.” Lucas’s face changes. Just like that. “Ren runs her mouth. She’s joking.” She shrugs. “What. No guy gives a shit about some virgin. That’s a chick thing.” I pull out my phone. My thumb hovers over a contact saved as a single letter—A. Lucas grabs my wrist. Snaps the phone in half. “You wanna take this outside the Family? You out of your mind?” He thinks I’m calling the cops. Five years married, and he still thinks I’m the kind of girl who calls the cops. He pulls a check from his jacket. Slides it across the coffee table. “One niece. A mil. We square?” “Ren’s one of us. The crew backs her. You’re just a wife. Stay in your lane.” Ravenna’s lip curls. “A million? For that broke little bitch? Trash always thinks they’re worth more than they are.” I tear the check in half. Then in quarters. I drop the pieces on Lucas’s shoes. A million dollars. For the only blood niece of the Mercer Dynasty. The oldest crime family in Europe. The ones who hold his father by the throat in three different markets. You stupid boy. You have no idea what you just bought. The whiskey glass hits the floor. Crystal everywhere. “Lucas. Lucas. Is this bitch trying to put me down?” Sal Romano steps up first. Sicilian. Runs the laundering through the Boston galleries. He looks at me the way you look at a dog about to get put down. “Vivian. She didn’t mean it. Let it go.” The rest of the crew falls in behind him. Ravenna’s chin lifts. “You know what? Throw me on the Labyrinth too. Let the old guys have a turn. That what you want, sweetheart?” Lucas’s eyes go black. “Shut the fuck up.” Then he turns to me. Stone face. “That’s just how Ren is. She doesn’t think before she talks. She’ll say sorry. End of story.” I drop to my knees next to Lily. Her cheek is ice under my hand. She used to slip Hershey’s Kisses into my coat pocket and pretend she didn’t. She was eighteen. I told Adrian she was ready. I told him. My tears land on her bruised throat. These ones aren’t for the recording. I shake my head. “She killed her. Sorry doesn’t cover it. She pays. In blood.” Lucas laughs. Tired. “She typed a few words on a website. The buyers killed your niece. Quit aiming at the wrong person.” My nails go through my skin. “Wrong person? She posted her. She’s got five million in her account. She is the killer.” Crack. His slap whips my head sideways. Copper floods my mouth. I run my tongue along my back molar. Still there. “I said shut your mouth. Nobody talks about Ren like that. Nobody.” Ravenna laughs. Loops her arm through his. “Aw, babe. She just wants a bigger cut. Right, Vivian? Daddy here’s loaded. We can toss extra on the dead kid too.” She crouches. Lifts my chin with one finger. “Honestly? Bet your niece was a climber. The men who had her last night? Way out of her league.” Lucas sighs like I’m exhausting him. Crouches in front of me. “Vivian. Stop. Two million. We done?” I look at his face. The face I crossed an ocean for. The face I buried the Mercer name to marry. Five years ago I walked into this house with a fake last name and one job: figure out if the Langston Syndicate had rotted enough to take. The answer came in a long time ago. But Lily. Lily was never on the board. I pull off my wedding ring. Throw it. It bounces off his lapel. “We’re done, Lucas. You’ll be hearing from my family.”

I turn for the door. Lucas’s voice locks me in place. “Walk out that door, Vivian. They bury Lily in three different states.” I turn back. He’s already pulled the sheet off her. He’s holding a paring knife. He drives it into her chest. Right through the sternum. I scream. I throw myself at her. He kicks me off like a stray. Ravenna loops her arms around his neck. Presses up against his back. “That’s my man. You know how to play.” My hands shake. I make my voice small. “Lucas. Just let me take her. Don’t touch her again.” He smiles. Like he’s brought me to heel. “Vivian. We’re not getting divorced. And you don’t open your mouth outside this house. Not to anyone. Not your brother, not a priest, nobody. This stays in the Family.” The first half lands wrong with Ravenna. Her face twists. She rips the knife out of his hand. Drags the tip across Lily’s cheek, slow. “Such a pretty face. Needs a little something extra, doesn’t it?” “Please.” My voice tears open. “Lucas. For what we had. Don’t let her touch my niece.” He looks away from me. Ravenna giggles. “Relax, sweetheart. We’re burning her after this. Ash doesn’t care what’s carved into it.” She thinks for a beat. Her face lights up. She presses the blade in. W-H-O-R-E. One letter at a time. Across Lily’s cheek. Sal Romano slow-claps. “Damn, Ren. You got a real artist’s hand.” Ravenna grins. Tosses the knife back to Lucas. “Your turn, babe. Show us what Don Langston’s golden boy can do. Use this little piece of trash as your canvas.” “NO—” I lunge for Lily. The lunge isn’t a performance. The lunge is the only honest thing I’ve done tonight. Lucas stomps down on my shoulder. The bone goes. He pulls his belt out of the loops and lashes my wrists to the iron rack above me. “Lucas. Please. Please don’t—” He doesn’t look at me. He walks to Lily. The crew starts cheering. Whistling. Lucas glances at the bruises blooming across Lily’s chest. His mouth curls in disgust—at her, like she’s the dirty thing in this room—and he flips her over. Then he starts cutting. Long, sure strokes. He’s done this before. I scream until my throat shreds. I beg him to stop. Ravenna grabs a dirty napkin off the table and shoves it in my mouth. When he’s finished, the whole room claps. Whatever was left of me—whatever still loved this man, whatever still believed his lies—dies in that second. He swaggers over. Cuts the belt off my wrists. “Vivian. Ren and the crew forgave you. Don’t pull a stunt like that again. You hear me?” He leans in to kiss me. I slap him so hard his head whips sideways. “You’re not a man.” His jaw locks. For a second I think he’s going to hit me back. Then he sees my face—white, dead-white—and stops himself. He presses his lips to my forehead instead. Whispers, low, only for me: “Vivian. I’m protecting you.” My mouth pulls into a cold smile. Say it again. Say it on tape. Five years I’ve eaten this. The first time Ravenna met me, she “accidentally” hit me with her Maserati. Broke my leg in two places. I spent three months in a cast. He spent three months with her in the south of France. I let it happen. She needed to think I was harmless. Wedding night, she called him. He picked up. I sat in the bridal suite till sunrise. I let it happen. He needed to think he was the smart one. Same line every time: Ren’s a hothead. Keep her happy. I’m protecting you. Every time, I smiled and forgave. Every time, I sent the recording. But Lily. I didn’t plan for Lily. “I don’t need your protection anymore, Lucas. We’re done. You’ll be hearing from my family.”

Lucas sways. His voice cracks at the edges. “Vivian. We’re not splitting. I told you I’d protect you for life.” I move for the door. He locks me against his chest. I claw at him. I bite. Then—a sharp pinch at my neck. The room tilts. My knees give. Lucas’s lips at my ear, soft, almost tender. “Sleep it off, baby. Tomorrow nothing’s changed.” I come back slow. Something pulls me out of the dark. Voices. Two of them. Right outside the bedroom door. “Lucas. Vivian’s still in there.” “That’s the point, Ren.” “Mmm. Fucking your wife’s sister with her three feet away? That’s what gets you off?” I keep my eyes closed. The drug slowed me down. It didn’t shut me off. The door slams open. Lucas walks in with Ravenna in his arms. Her dress already shoved up. His shirt half-open. I don’t move. I don’t breathe wrong. I don’t twitch. Lucas glances at me. Sees a corpse on the bed. Smirks. “Out cold. Good.” He drops Ravenna on the foot of the bed. My bed. Our bed. She laughs, climbs onto her knees, reaches for his belt. “Mmm. Don Langston’s golden boy. Show me what you got.” He grabs her by the throat. Not hard. Lazy. Like he owns the air she breathes. “Shut up and turn around.” “Yes, papi.” The mattress dips. The buckle of his belt hits the floor. I count my breaths. One. Two. Then his voice—low, mean, not for her, for me: “You think I don’t know you’re awake, Vivian?” My lungs stop. Keep talking, Lucas. “Yeah. Thought so. Keep pretending, baby. Watch how a real woman takes it.” Ravenna giggles. “Oh, you’re cruel. Tell her again.” “Tell her yourself, Ren.” “Vivian. Vivian, honey. He’s never fucked you like this, has he?” Lucas grabs a fistful of her hair. Yanks her head back hard. “Now don’t talk to her. Talk to me.” “Mmm—yes—” The bed slams against the wall. Once. Twice. I press my palm flat against the mattress under the sheet. My nails go through my own skin. Blood smears under me. Five years of marriage. I’m protecting you. This is what he was protecting. When he finishes, he doesn’t pull out gentle. He shoves her off and lights a cigarette right there on the bed. Ravenna stretches. Bare feet pad to my side of the mattress. She leans down. So close her breath hits my eyelashes. “Sweet dreams, Mrs. Langston.” Lucas exhales smoke at the ceiling. “Let’s go. She’s seen enough.” The door clicks shut. I open my eyes. I roll off the bed and throw up on the floor until there’s nothing left but acid. I sit on the floor in the puddle of my own vomit and shake. The recording was clean. My body doesn’t care. I crawl to the door. Locked from the outside. Then—a knock. Soft. Careful. “Mrs. Langston? Are you awake? It’s Marta. Let me get you out.” The housekeeper. Old Italian woman. She’s been with the Langstons since Lucas was a boy. Which means she answers to Don Langston. Not to me. I get up anyway. If they want to set me up, let them. “Marta. Yes.” The lock clicks. The door cracks open. She’s pale. Her hands shake worse than mine. “Quickly, ma’am. He smashed your phone. Take mine. Call your family. Now.” I take the phone. I follow her through three corridors, past the gun room, past the kitchen. I let my thumb hover over the screen. Slow. Stupid. The way a panicked wife would. “Funny. Ren said you’d run.” Lucas. Behind us. Cold as a grave. Marta drops to her knees so fast her bones crack on the marble. “Mr. Langston—I’m sorry, she made me, she said she was going to put Miss Volkov on the Labyrinth, she begged me for my phone to post the listing—I tried to stop her—” Lucas’s eyes go black. He grabs my jaw. Hard. Fingernails breaking skin. “You were going to put Ren on the Labyrinth? Over a joke?” “You think I’d do that. I’m not her, Lucas. I don’t sell people.” He snatches the phone from my hand. Scrolls. Then he flips the screen at me and backhands me at the same time. Crack. My head snaps. Copper floods my mouth again. “Stop lying. What the fuck is THIS.” I look at the screen. A live listing on the Labyrinth. Item: female, mid-twenties, blonde, Eastern European. Photo: Ravenna Volkov. Starting bid: five hundred thousand. Posted twenty minutes ago. From this phone.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619QZpCz6ebr2 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni109158”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

Three years of marriage. My doctor husband had canceled our honeymoon ten times. The first time, his female intern got into an argument with a patient. He left me stranded on some random street in Chicago. The second time, the intern couldn’t diagnose a patient. He rushed back to the hospital in the middle of the night. Left me in the Wyoming wilderness. After that, every time I mentioned the honeymoon, that intern always had some emergency. I was exhausted. The marriage too. But when I became a doctor without borders, he begged me to come back. Crying. — I was already in Charleston when I found out the honeymoon was off. Again. Hotel booked. Everything. Liam Black trailed behind me, irritation all over his face. “Who told you to book so fast? The second we landed, I told you. Sophie has a critical patient. I’m her mentor. I have to go back.” “It’s just a honeymoon. We can go anytime. Can you stop being so difficult? This is life or death.” I swallowed the ache and stopped walking. My suitcase sat between us. “Then go back.” Minutes earlier, the plane had just landed. Liam rushed to the restroom. I connected his phone to the airport WiFi. Messages flooded the screen. All from Sophie Vance. I wasn’t trying to read them. But I did. What I saw made my blood run cold. It was a group chat from the hospital. Sophie spamming Liam with messages. Cutesy. Playful. “Dr. Black, it’s my one-year anniversary at the hospital! And one year since we met! I already booked the restaurant. You wouldn’t stand me up, right?” “I invited a bunch of friends. We’d all be so sad if you didn’t show.” Someone jumped in immediately. “Relax. You know him. He cares about you more than anyone. That honeymoon he keeps putting off? Bet he’ll find an excuse to ditch her in ten minutes.” “Honestly, his wife never even wears makeup. How does she compete with Sophie? And she’s so damn clingy. Always obsessing over that stupid honeymoon. Does she not get how busy doctors are?” “They’ve been married forever. Who still cares about that stuff? Some people just need external validation because they know they’re not loved.” My body went rigid. My mind went blank. This was our tenth attempt at a honeymoon. Every single time, Liam found a reason to abandon me. Mid-flight. At the first landmark. Always. Always because of Sophie. His excuses always sounded noble. He was her mentor. It was his duty to guide her. Sophie was an intern. She was there to learn. He couldn’t just leave her hanging. Now I knew. Those were just words. “Something wrong?” Liam came out of the restroom. I was staring at the mirror. Vacant. He looked confused. I pressed my lips together and handed him his phone. “Your messages kept buzzing. Someone’s looking for you.” I hadn’t unlocked it. Just watched the notifications roll in. Read every single one. Liam wiped his hands on his pants and grabbed the phone. A few seconds later, panic flickered across his face. “The hospital admitted a critical patient. I need to get back and assist Sophie. We’ll do the honeymoon another time.” I opened my mouth. I wanted to ask. Was it really a hospital emergency? Or was he just racing back for some anniversary dinner? The words died in my throat. Came out as a sigh instead. “This time I actually made a plan. I mapped out all the places you’d want to eat. Photo spots. I already booked the hotel. Can’t you just come see it? Someone else at the hospital can handle it. There are other doctors.” I was pathetic. Hoping he’d stay just because I asked nicely. He barely glanced at me. “Are you done? You knew I was a doctor when you married me. I have professional ethics. Are you seriously telling me some patient’s life matters less than your honeymoon?”

He was loud. Other travelers turned to stare. A middle-aged woman shook her head at me. The look said, cut your husband some slack, he’s a doctor. I lowered my eyes. Didn’t explain a thing. No one knew how bitter this tasted. No one knew how exhausting this dead marriage had become. So fine. Let him go. I was done reaching for things I couldn’t touch. “I know you feel wronged. Here’s the plan. Go check into the hotel. Rest tonight. Tomorrow, fly back. I’ll wait for you at home. I’ll make your favorite. Barbecue ribs.” “I have to go.” Liam disappeared into the crowd. I saw it clearly. The way he was already on the phone, walking away, calling Sophie. Racing back to see her. He flew all this way just to put on a performance for me. Must have been exhausting for him too. I checked into the hotel. Submitted my resignation to the hospital. The director responded fast. He thought I was running away. From Liam. From Sophie. He told me to think it through. I stubbed out my cigarette and called him. “Thank you for everything. I’ve thought it through very clearly. This isn’t impulsive. It’s something I’ve wanted since I was a kid. It has nothing to do with anyone else. And I won’t let irrelevant people change my path.” Silence on the other end. Then a sigh. “As long as you’re sure. Resigning is serious. Going into Doctors Without Borders, especially. You’ll face danger constantly. And you need to tell Liam. No matter what, you two are married. Don’t let things get too ugly over this.” “Emma, I’m genuinely happy you’ve found a new direction. As for the marriage… try to make peace with it.” His voice was full of concern. Full of reluctance to see me go. I said yes. Wiped the corner of my eye. “I’ll tell him. I wish you all the best.” I hung up. Put my head down on the desk and sobbed. Three years married. Two years together before that. Liam and I had so much history. I thought we’d be together forever. Turns out forever was just a word. Rain tapped against the window. I pulled out the itinerary I’d spent weeks planning. A few sundresses. A bitter laugh escaped me. When we first got married, we’d both just finished our residencies. We barely had time to breathe. No time for a proper wedding shoot either. That’s why the honeymoon mattered so much to me. I wanted to capture us. At our best. As his wife. I always felt like I owed him something. Wanted to make it up to him. I just never realized my efforts had become a burden to him. Maybe he’d thought it a hundred times. Why is she still hung up on a stupid honeymoon? We’re too old for this. I used to defend myself. Now I didn’t bother. This was the best ending for us. The next morning, I stepped onto the plane. The streets were still damp from the rain. A thin fog hung in the air. Other passengers chatted excitedly about their trips. The sights they’d see. I kept my head down. Stole one last look at this city. It used to be the place I wanted most to visit. I’d been here so many times. Abandoned every single time. Never again. A few hours later, I dragged my exhausted body home. Liam clearly hadn’t been back all night. Everything was exactly as I’d left it. The slippers I’d kicked off in my rush to leave still sat crooked by the door. I expected it. Still, irritation crawled up my spine.

Liam walked in at dusk. Still wearing yesterday’s shirt. A cloying sweetness clung to the air around him. Perfume. Mixed with stale alcohol. It hit my throat. I held my breath without thinking. “You’re back.” He caught my reaction. Tugged at his collar. Uncomfortable. “Surgery ran late last night. I took the department out for a late dinner. Everyone pushed for drinks. I couldn’t say no. So I didn’t come home.” “The smell is a lot. Let me shower first.” I didn’t respond. Liam grabbed a towel and fled into the bathroom. When he came out, I was on the couch. Eating takeout. He had walked in holding a bag of groceries. I saw it. Didn’t mean anything to me. Liam broke promises all the time. I didn’t think the groceries were for me. He only kept promises for Sophie. “I told you I’d cook today.” He yanked the takeout container from my hands. Face dark. “Emma Vail, what the hell is your problem? Yesterday was an emergency. I explained this. The department admitted a critical patient. You’re a doctor too. Did you want me to just let someone die?” “All this over a honeymoon? Seriously? I’ll make it up to you later. Okay?” He was aggressive. Water droplets from his hair flew everywhere. Landed on me. Cold. Just like how I felt right now. “Say something.” Still furious, he hurled the wet towel at me. Pain and cold hit at the same time. I rubbed my eyes. He’d actually knocked tears loose. “What story are you spinning in your head?” He let out a cold laugh. “Sophie and I are mentor and intern. Nothing else. She’s new. She doesn’t know anything. I’m guiding her. Why do you have to make everything so filthy?” “You see dirt everywhere because you’re dirty.” I hadn’t said a word. He was already scrambling to deny everything. Wasn’t that guilt? “Liam, I haven’t eaten all day.” I slumped onto the couch. Reached for the takeout he’d thrown in the trash. I was so tired. No energy left to fight. Liam froze for a second. Then guilt flooded his face. He grabbed a napkin. Tried to wipe my face. “That takeout is trash now. Don’t eat it. Find some snacks first. I’ll cook right away.” I flinched away from his hand. Jerked back. Stiff. “Don’t. I can wipe my own face. Go cook if you’re going to cook.” I didn’t want to watch this fake concern anymore. He couldn’t stand being near me. Yet here he was. Pretending to care. Liam. I never understood you. “Okay. I’m going.” Before heading to the kitchen, he grabbed the takeout box from the trash. Threw it away again. I dug through the pantry. My stomach gnawing at itself. He came out holding chips and cookies. Set them in front of me. “Just snack on these. Don’t eat too much. You won’t have room for dinner.” His eyes held something that looked like genuine worry. I was genuinely impressed by his acting. “Should we invite your… intern? For dinner?” He was already walking away. Heard my question. Turned back immediately. This time, the hope in his eyes was real. Lit up. “Can we?”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/202606193D7xWSONZ1 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni354994”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

I was reborn. In my last life, the zombie virus destroyed everything. My husband, Mark, only cared about hiding out with his first love, Krystal, in our mansion. He locked me, pregnant and helpless, outside the door. He left me to be torn apart by a horde of zombies. Now that I’m back, I’ll use my father’s industrial park to hoard supplies and build a fortress that no one can break into. In the chaos of the coming apocalypse, I’m done with being naive and kind. Anyone who gets in my family’s way will be left to die. … One second, I was feeling the searing pain of my flesh being ripped from my bones. The next, I found myself back in the master bedroom Mark and I shared. The memory of being eaten alive was still fresh, and my head was splitting open. I instinctively reached out to steady myself on a tall figure next to me, but he violently shoved me away. “Jessica, that’s enough! You got the wedding you wanted, so start acting like it! Don’t you dare think you’ll get anything more from me!” I looked up at the sound of his voice and saw Mark’s handsome face, twisted with disgust. Without another word, he stormed out. I was… back? Fifteen days before the zombie outbreak? I’d been obsessed with Mark since we were kids. In my last life, a drunken night led to me getting pregnant with his child. He only married me because my father forced him to, and he hated me for it. To be with him, I put up with everything. I even looked the other way when I knew he was still messing around with Krystal. After we were married, I was nothing more than his full-time maid. He barely glanced at me, his pregnant wife, let alone took me to a single prenatal appointment. When the apocalypse began, he tricked me into going out, claiming we needed more supplies. It was just an excuse to get me out of the house so he could move Krystal in. When I came back, exhausted and loaded down with groceries, they had locked the doors. They left me outside to be eaten alive by zombies. The gut-wrenching pain is a feeling I’ll never forget. I felt my life draining away, along with the life of my unborn child. Now, I scanned the room. This was a huge, isolated mansion in an upscale suburban community. It was the largest property on the block. No wonder Mark was so desperate to kick me out and bring Krystal in. But wait. There had to be another secret about this house. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have risked coming back here. I searched every corner of the house, tapping on the walls. Finally, I found something strange behind the wall-mounted TV. There was a hidden emergency shelter. I went down the stairs and discovered a massive space. It was perfect for stockpiling supplies. And it was already half-full. Could it be? Did Mark know the zombie apocalypse was coming all along? It all suddenly made sense. That’s why he was willing to marry me, even though he hated my guts. He just wanted my family’s money to buy this house. My parents never liked him, but I was blinded by love. My dad finally caved and paid for the house, hoping Mark would treat me right after we were married. But he never gave me a second glance, not even as I was dying outside his door. I’ve seen how horrible the zombies are. I’ve felt it firsthand. Now that I have a second chance, I refuse to die a fool’s death again.

Seeing this underground space, I knew Mark had been preparing for a long time. And if he knew in advance, he was definitely keeping it from me. I had to act fast and build a real safe house for myself and my family. Mark’s mansion was isolated, but it was still in a rich neighborhood with too many people around. Once society collapsed, this place would become a target. It wasn’t safe at all. Then it hit me. My father owned a huge, abandoned industrial park dozens of miles outside the city. I remember questioning him about it, saying it was a bad investment. But my dad said that business wasn’t just about profit. He said buying the land helped the previous factory owner out of a tough spot. Who knew that piece of land would end up saving our entire family? It was far from the city, massive, and perfect for stockpiling a mountain of supplies. It was the ultimate location for an apocalyptic fortress. With a rough plan in mind, I drove straight to the industrial park. But when I got there, I realized it wouldn’t be so simple. The place was a wasteland, overgrown with weeds. The huge warehouses were old and falling apart, with leaky roofs that wouldn’t stand a chance against the horrors to come. Looking at the mess, I felt a wave of despair. That, combined with my morning sickness, made my stomach churn. I knew I couldn’t handle this alone. I drove straight to my parents’ house. The park was a wreck, and I had no idea how to renovate it, but I had a father who could get anything done. When I got home, I didn’t waste any time. I told them everything—about my rebirth and the coming zombie apocalypse. My parents were stunned for a long moment. But seeing how deadly serious I was, they fell silent and began to think. “Dad, Mom, you have to believe me!” I pleaded. In my last life, Mark didn’t just betray me. He also stole the credit card my father gave me, using our family’s fortune to buy his own supplies. Meanwhile, my parents were trapped in their city home. They starved to death. This time, I would not let history repeat itself. “It’s okay, Jessica. My poor daughter, you’ve suffered so much,” my mom said, her eyes telling me she believed every word. “Robert, you heard her!” My dad slammed his fist on the table. “I told you that son of a bitch Mark was no good! Why didn’t you tell me how much you were suffering?!” I said nothing. I knew how stupid I had been. “Alright, Robert, don’t blame her now,” my mom cut in. “The most important thing is to listen to Jessica. We need to start gathering supplies immediately. Survival is all that matters.” My eyes welled up with tears. The feeling of being eaten was still terrifyingly real, but I had no time to get emotional. I immediately laid out my plan to turn the industrial park into an “underground Noah’s Ark.” My father’s anger vanished. He took my rough sketches, glanced at them, and immediately called one of the top security construction firms in the city. “Dave? It’s Robert. I need a favor. I’ve got an industrial park that needs an urgent overhaul. That ‘off-grid survival’ design you mentioned to me once sounds a lot like what I need. Can you send a team to the site today?” “Money is not an issue. I care about quality and speed.” “Of course, Mr. Robert. We’ll see you on-site in an hour.” You can’t beat experience. My dad has been in the business world for decades; his connections and efficiency were second to none.

When we got to the industrial park, I showed the foreman, Dave, my sketches and list of requirements. He was incredibly efficient. His team generated a 3D model on their computer right there on the spot. Their process was seamless. My dad and I gave him a credit card with no spending limit. We gave him our list of required materials, from steel and concrete to solar panels, and laid out the exact zoning for each area. Most importantly, all exterior walls and security systems had to be built to the highest military-grade, blast-proof standards. “Dave, as long as you can meet all our requirements as quickly as possible, money is no object.” The foreman took the card, nodded seriously, and immediately got his crew and equipment moving. The workers started right away, tearing down the old asbestos panels and laying a new foundation. The whole place was a whirlwind of activity. My dad took the design plans and pointed to the sewage system. He told Dave, “Don’t connect this to the city’s grid. I want an independent biogas energy recycling system.” I immediately understood what my dad was thinking. Biogas could be used for electricity and heat. I quickly added that the construction company should dig a massive underground bunker in the farthest corner of the park. This would ensure we had enough storage space and a final escape route. My dad immediately called the head of the construction company and added a few hundred thousand dollars to the budget. He demanded they double the number of workers and run three shifts around the clock to get the job done in the shortest time possible. With my dad’s money backing us, things moved at lightning speed. We became their top priority. They brought in more workers, and their efficiency was astounding. Digging the bunker, reinforcing the warehouses, installing blast-proof doors—they didn’t miss a thing. In just a few days, the rundown industrial park was completely transformed. The most impressive part was the underground bunker. All the living quarters could be accessed through secret passages. Even though we already had three layers of protection on the surface, it was always good to have another way out. One day, the foreman, Dave, couldn’t hold back his curiosity. “Boss, this underground space is big enough to build an apartment complex. Do you really need it to be this large?” My dad was quick on his feet. “In business, you always have to plan for future expansion. Just securing the space in advance.” The workers nodded, not quite understanding, and went back to their work. The construction was on track. I showed my mom the shopping list. She frowned, crossed off some of my choices, and wrote a new, more professional list. The staples were replaced with vacuum-packed rice and flour that could be stored long-term, ordered by the hundreds of pounds. We were buying shipping containers full of compressed biscuits, military MREs, all kinds of canned goods, antibiotics, first-aid supplies, and toiletries. We also needed to buy tons of frozen chicken and pork, and hundreds of large freezers to store it all. “No, wait,” my mom said suddenly. “According to you, the power grid and internet will go down completely. We have to be prepared for everything. Go buy more chicks and feed. We have plenty of space, we can raise our own!” “Dad, Mom, thank you for trusting me without question. I need to go home for a bit so Mark doesn’t get suspicious about what we’re doing here.” “Silly girl! Be safe. Your mother and I will always have your back. Don’t worry about things here, we’ll stay in touch.” After returning to the house, I received the final design plans from the construction company on my phone. After a careful review, I told the crew to add another layer of steel plating to all interior and exterior walls. Our fortress was nearly surrounded by mountains, making it difficult for zombies to climb over. The entire park covered a huge area. Once completed, the outer perimeter would be the first line of defense. Inside, there were layers upon layers of protection, plus a double-layered dome and a natural air circulation system. We could survive normally even without external power and water. I was extremely satisfied with the overall design. There were still about two weeks left. Plenty of time. Just as I was feeling relieved after reviewing the plans, the front door of the house suddenly opened. Mark shouldn’t have been home at this hour. But the person who walked in was Krystal.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619kPdIDdtY7D 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni956860”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

The last child in the sanctum gets pinned to a marble pillar by one of the Empusae and torn open like a ripe fig — and that’s when the men finally lose it. “My king! You swore Daphne was lying! You swore she was just jealous! You told us to hold the mountain and guard you and Lyra through the starfire!” “I come home and my newborn son doesn’t even have a body left!” Castor goes white as bleached bone. I look at the blood on the marble and something inside me cracks down the middle. Last time the Empusae came for the sanctum, my husband — Basileus of this polis, son of Ares — was up on the high temple with his little nymph, lighting a sky full of starfire for her name-day. I dragged every last one of his men home in time. I saved them with my own voice. But Lyra threw a fit over missing her rites. She slipped out past the wards alone, and the Empusae tore her apart in the dark. Castor killed every one of them and sat for a week holding what was left of her shinbone. Didn’t speak. Didn’t eat. The day I gave him a son, he hacked off my hands and my feet. Threw me into a pen of starving Empusae. Watched them eat me down to the bone. Then had the priest-healers stitch me back together. Again. And again. Until there was nothing left to stitch. “You did this to her, you jealous bitch. You wanted her dead. So I’m going to make you die slower than she did.” I open my eyes. The Moirai have cut my thread and tied it back. Same room. Same morning. The Empusae haven’t come yet. The shrieking reaches me through the trees. Far off. Not far enough. I run. Straight to the altar of the herald’s horn. My palms slam down on the bronze before I’m thinking. “Citizens — all citizens —” “The Empusae of Tartarus are at the gates. Get inside the sanctum. Now.” Screaming starts up outside before I even finish. “Move!” I grab a blade and shove people through the doors, cutting down the two Empusae that lunge in with us. An old man. Three children. A girl carrying her little brother. I push them in by the shoulders. The bronze gate slams shut. The shrieking on the other side goes muffled. People drop to the floor sobbing. A woman is whispering Hestia’s name over and over. Another one, with a baby in her arms, grabs my wrist hard enough to bruise. “Daphne — go find Castor — make him bring the men back —” I close my eyes. There’s no soft way to say it. “Castor is on the high temple. With every man of the Phalanx. He’s lighting Lyra’s starfire.” The room goes silent. Then it explodes. “He’s what?” “Starfire rites? Now? He left us here to die for that little —” Boom. Boom. Boom. The bronze gate dents inward. We don’t have time. “Maybe we don’t need them to come back.” The thought drops into my head like a coin. I look at Hera. My husband’s mother. The old Amazon under the dust. “The hearthfire. Hestia’s hearthfire on the outer wards. We light it, and they burn where they stand.” Her eyes go sharp. She pulls the message-stone from her belt. The line connects. “What. I’m busy.” He sounds annoyed. Annoyed. Hera keeps her voice flat. “Castor. The polis is being overrun. The sanctum is breaking. Light the hearthfire on the outer wards. Now.” A pause. Then he laughs. “Don’t be dramatic. The fire’s all up here for the starfire — I’m not pulling it for a few hours, you’ll ruin Lyra’s whole name-day.” A sneer. “Is Daphne next to you? Is she putting you up to this? She’s so eaten up over Lyra she’s dragging you into her little theater now?” Hera is shaking head to foot. “You stupid — you don’t even know what you’ve —” The stone goes cold under her hand. The room is dead quiet. Someone whispers, “We’re finished. We’re finished.” I stare at the dented gate. So I came back for nothing. Nothing changes. Hera grabs my arm. “I trained every one of those men myself. There’s a goat-path up the back of the temple. I’ll go up and order them home. They will not refuse me to my face.”

Hope flickers up in me, just barely. She’s already at the side door. “Wait for me.” She’s gone. An hour. The gate splits open just enough for one long black snout to shove through the crack. Teeth close on the baby before any of us can move. The crying stops mid-breath, swallowed by wet sounds. The woman slumps down on the stone. Her eyes go dead. A shape stumbles back through the side door. It’s Hera. Everyone surges forward. “Where are the men? Are they coming?” She’s drenched red. One whole sleeve hangs empty — and so does the arm that was in it. “Block the gap. Now.” I catch her before she falls. “Castor —” she spits his name like it burns her tongue, “had men on every path. Every one. He set them to stop anyone who’d ruin her rites.” Her eyes are red and furious. The room goes quiet. My knees almost go. He planned for me. He thought past his own mother. “No. We are not just sitting here to die.” I lift my head. “If the Phalanx won’t come, we call somewhere else. Another polis. Anyone who’ll hear me.” I’m already at the message-stone, pressing my palms to it, calling the name of every polis I know — Argos, Korinth, Megara, anyone. Long silence on the other end. Then a cold voice. “I’m sorry. We can’t help you.” “An hour ago, King Castor sent word himself. He said your polis might send false omens tonight. He asked every other polis to turn a deaf ear to any cry from us until dawn.” He thought of that. He sealed every road out before he ever struck the first spark for her. Hera goes paper-white. “I am his mother. I am asking —” “Lady. The king was clear. Especially you. Unless you come and ask in person, no one is coming.” The stone goes cold. In person. Through miles of Empusae. With one arm. I grip her good shoulder. “I’m going with you.” I look at the smear of blood where the baby was. “Everyone here dies if we wait. We go, there’s a chance.” She holds my eyes, then nods once. I half-carry her up the slope. Her left arm is gone clean to the shoulder. Whatever she’s tied around it is already soaked through. She doesn’t slow down. “Over this ridge and we can see the temple lights.” Halfway up. The polis below us is a black shape with red bleeding through it. The high temple glows white-gold on the far peak. That’s when a streak of bronze comes screaming down out of the sky and slams into the rock ten paces in front of us. Stone shatters. The shockwave throws us both backward into the slope.

I push myself up. My ears are ringing. Smoke and grit everywhere. Up on the high temple, two figures in white. Castor with his arm around her waist. His voice booms down through the temple horn, twisted by the bronze. “Daphne. I knew it. You couldn’t sell me crying, so now you’re charging the mountain yourself?” His voice drops cold. “I knew you’d try something. I am not letting you ruin her night.” Another spear-streak. Closer. “Hera — make him hear you!” Hera drags herself to her knees and screams up the slope. “Castor!” A pause from the temple. Then he laughs — louder, uglier. “Daphne. You really hired an actress? You think I don’t know my own mother’s voice? My mother has both her arms. Stop. Embarrassing. Yourself.” Hera shakes. “I am your mother — you can’t even tell my voice apart —” Up there, Castor goes still for one breath. Then I see Lyra reach up and tug his sleeve. Her voice floats down through the horn, all velvet. “Castor — I knew Daphne never liked me. Let’s just call it off. I’ll go down. I’m used to being hated. Really. It’s fine. I shouldn’t even have been born —” His face hardens instantly. Of course it does. “Again,” he orders. More streaks rain down. They walk across the slope behind us, sealing the way back. The moon climbs higher. “No more time. I’ll keep his eye on me. You go. Bring help back.” Hera’s hand clamps on my shoulder, all bone and blood. “Every soul down there is waiting on you.” She shoves me off and starts dragging herself toward the temple steps. I lunge for her. “Hera — they can’t see you from up there. They will kill you.” The horn cracks again from above. “Daphne. If you want to ruin her night so badly you’ll die for it — let me help.” I look up. A bronze javelin is balanced on his shoulder. Long. Heavy. The kind they say his father Ares forged in the deep fires. It catches the moon and a thread of lightning runs down the shaft. He throws. “Daphne — down —” Hera slams into me. Her whole body covers mine. The crack of thunder splits the air open. Hot blood floods my face. My mouth. My eyes. She’s on top of me. The spear has gone clean through her back and out her chest, pinning her into the rock above my head. Her one good hand is curled tight in my hair. “Hera — Hera, no —” She doesn’t answer. Her blood is still hot on my face. Above us, through the horn, Lyra’s sweet little voice floats down. “Sister. Push her off the cliff. The blood will pull them. You’ll die too.”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619JEx6ZdAIcJ 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni908863”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

My Alpha mate, Kayden, promised he would only visit his unstable childhood sweetheart, Clara, ninety-nine times. But when I had finally placed the ninety-ninth bean in the jar, I saw him holding Clara in a tight embrace. I stopped crying and begging him not to go to her after that. I simply asked him for a guardian sigil for a wolf pup, a gift for our coming child. The mention of our child softened his expression. “Wait for me to get back. I’ll go with you to the pack infirmary for the prenatal check-up.” I obediently hummed in agreement. I didn’t tell him that ten days ago, I had already submitted an application to the Pack Elders to sever our mate bond. According to the laws of the pack, we were no longer mates. … Ten days after submitting my application, I ran into Kayden in the hallway of the pack infirmary. He was carefully supporting Clara, treating her like a rare treasure. But the moment he saw me, Kayden’s brow furrowed. “What are you doing here? Are you trying to cause trouble for Clara again?” He watched me with a guarded look, the chill in his eyes piercing my heart. Clara clung to Kayden’s arm and looked at me apologetically. “Ava, don’t misunderstand. Kayden is just worried about me.” Then, her eyes drifted down to my stomach. “I heard you were admitted to the infirmary too. Is the baby okay?” Before I could answer, Kayden rushed to comfort her. “It’s probably just emotional stress affecting the pregnancy. It’ll be fine.” “Don’t overthink it. The most important thing is for you to take care of yourself.” I subconsciously touched my belly, a bitter taste filling my mouth. Right, how could anything be wrong? It’s just that our little pup… was already gone. How could that possibly be more important than Clara’s health? Otherwise, why wouldn’t Kayden have visited me even once, despite knowing I was in the very same infirmary? If he had just bothered to look in on my room, even for a moment, he would have known. Our child, the one destined to inherit the Alpha title, was gone. I forced a smile and my hand found the glass jar in my pocket, warmed by my body heat. Ever since Clara returned, Kayden would disappear every few days to be with her. He said: “Clara has always been sensitive, and now her mental state is fragile. If I’m not with her, what if she hurts herself?” “Don’t worry, I just don’t want her to do something stupid. I don’t have any other feelings for her.” He promised me he would only stay with Clara ninety-nine times. After the ninety-ninth time, he would return to our family for good, fulfilling his duties as my Alpha mate. So every time he left, I would place a single bean in a glass jar. Seven days ago, I finally put in the ninety-ninth bean. But when I went to find him, full of hope, I saw Kayden holding Clara tightly in his arms. I was his Luna, his wife. Yet in that moment, I could only stand on the street corner, a spectator to his tender moment with another woman. “What are you two doing?” I walked toward them, my eyes red, my voice trembling with heartbreak. Kayden released Clara as if he’d been shocked, his eyes filled with panic. “Ava, don’t misunderstand. It’s not what you think.” I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, Clara cut in. “It’s all my fault. I’m bothering you two, I’m so sorry.” “Kayden, just leave me alone from now on. Let me just go die somewhere.” With that, she darted into the street and was clipped by a speeding pickup truck. Kayden’s face went pale. He violently shoved me aside and rushed to cradle Clara in his arms. I didn’t have time to react. The force of his push sent me crashing to the ground. A sharp, dull pain shot through my abdomen. I reached down with a trembling hand and it came back covered in sticky, red blood. “My baby… my baby… my pup…” “Kayden, my Alpha!” I clutched my stomach, desperately calling his name, praying he would just look back at me. Kayden paused for a second and turned his head, but his eyes were filled with hatred. “Ava! You know Clara is unstable, so why would you provoke her!” “If anything happens to Clara, I will never forgive you!” “Let this be a lesson to you. Stay the hell away from her from now on!” Then, he lifted Clara into his Ford SUV and sped away. In the end, it was a kind stranger who couldn’t bear to watch any longer who took me to the hospital. The doctor told me I had lost the baby. Lying in that hospital bed, replaying the image of Kayden leaving me, my vision blurred with tears. Kayden Blackwood, I promise you. From this day on, I will never go near you again. You are free. My thoughts returned to the present. Kayden seemed oblivious to my pale face, simply reminding me in a flat tone: “If there’s nothing else, go back to your room. As a member of this pack, be considerate and don’t take up unnecessary medical resources.” I nodded. “Okay.” Kayden continued, “I have to stay with Clara for the next few days. Don’t come looking for me unless it’s an emergency.” I nodded again. “Okay.” Perhaps my calm reaction was too much for him, because Kayden actually paused.

He let go of Clara and took two steps toward me. “Are you… feeling okay?” “Once Clara’s emotions have stabilized, I’ll schedule a proper prenatal check-up for you.” I just grunted in response, pretending not to see the venomous glare Clara shot my way. As I walked past him, I caught his scent. A faint fragrance of wild jasmine. It was the essential oil Clara always used. Kayden must have held Clara in his arms quite a lot during these days in the infirmary. Otherwise, how could this scent that wasn’t mine have soaked so deeply into his clothes and skin? When I got home, my next-door neighbor, Maria, was just heading out. She jumped when she saw how pale I was. “Oh heavens, Ava, why do you look so pale?” “Did something happen? Your scent… it’s filled with sorrow.” I managed a weak smile, but my eyes welled up with tears. So, I really did look that awful. So, other people could see that something was wrong with me. But my Alpha, my mate, how could he be so blind? It had been seven days. Even a single word of concern… would have been enough. Seeing that I wasn’t talking, Maria didn’t press further. She just gently helped me inside and sat me down. That evening, Maria brought over a large bowl of rich beef stew. “Ava, you’re already frail, and now you’re carrying a pup. You need to build up your strength.” Maria’s husband was the captain of the pack’s sentinels. With many children, their family wasn’t wealthy. This stew was a precious gift from them. After thanking Maria, I sat at the dining table, lost in thought for a long time. I couldn’t understand. Why could an ordinary pack member show me such kindness, while my own husband, the Alpha of our pack, could cast me aside again and again? This union, witnessed by the Moon Goddess herself, felt like a joke. With a sigh, I carefully lifted the bowl to my lips. Just as I was about to take a sip, the courtyard gate was pushed open. “Ava, I’m back.” Kayden walked in, carrying a few changes of clothes. I looked at him, surprised. “Why are you back? Don’t you need to be with Clara?” Kayden set the clothes down and replied casually, “The doctor said Clara’s condition has stabilized, but I’m still worried. I’m having her stay a few more days for observation.” “So, I came back to grab some essentials.” I hummed in acknowledgment, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said that morning. “Be considerate and don’t take up unnecessary medical resources.” It seemed that when it came to Clara, all the rules were different. I think my heart had truly died, because I didn’t even have the energy to argue. I lowered my eyes, about to drink my soup, when Kayden, who had finished packing, suddenly spoke up. “Did you make beef stew?” “Don’t drink it yet. Clara is weak, this will be perfect for her recovery.” My hand froze, the bowl still in my grasp. I stared at him, stunned. “Maria made this specifically for me.” Kayden acted as if he hadn’t heard me, already pulling a thermos from the cabinet. “I know your body. It doesn’t matter if you drink this or not.” “Let Clara have it this time. Next time, I’ll take you to the best restaurant in town.” Those familiar words brought back a flood of memories. “Ava, I’m giving the first choice at the Hunting Festival to Clara this time. I’ll make it up to you next time.” “Ava, don’t go to the Moonlight Gala. Give your spot to Clara. I’ll invite you to the next event.” “Ava, Clara wants to meet my inner circle. You should skip the Beta and Gamma gathering this time. I’ll bring you next time.” “Ava…” So many next times. So many I couldn’t even count them all. While I was lost in my daze, Kayden had already poured the beef stew into the thermos. He offered a dismissive word of concern. “I’m heading out. Take care of yourself at home.” He turned to leave, and the corner of his jacket brushed against the soup bowl on the table. CRASH! The bowl hit the floor, shattering into pieces, just like my heart. “Kayden.” I called out to him and pulled the glass jar with the ninety-nine beans from my pocket. “Ninety-nine beans. Count them.” Kayden’s back went rigid. He turned around, his face a mask of shock. “Is it… really time?” I nodded. “It is.” Kayden set down the thermos, his expression troubled. I didn’t say a word, just quietly waited for his answer. It was just as I expected. After only a moment’s hesitation, Kayden spoke. “Ava, Clara can’t be left alone right now…” A flicker of guilt crossed his eyes, but he continued anyway. “Our promise… let’s just call it off.” I lowered my gaze and let out a soft sigh. “Okay.” Kayden was stunned. He couldn’t believe I had agreed so easily. He rushed over and hugged me. “Ava, you’re so understanding.” “Don’t worry, as soon as Clara is fully recovered, I promise I’ll spend all my time with you.” I just hummed, and made a single request. “Our child will be born soon. I want a guardian sigil.” At the mention of the child, Kayden’s expression softened even more.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619bBJXSE6IaM 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni268116”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

My husband’s best friend’s widow posted an ultrasound photo on Instagram. “Thank you for your sperm. You gave me a baby of my own. ❤️ #BarrettBaby” She didn’t tag anyone. But in the corner of the photo, on the sonogram printout, the partner information line read: Preston Barrett. I dropped a question mark in the comments. Less than thirty seconds later, his call blew up my phone. “What the hell were you thinking, leaving a comment like that on a public post?” “She’s a widow, Audrey. She lives alone. All she wants is a baby. Can’t you have a little empathy?” “Evan was my brother. He’s gone, so taking care of Ronnie is the right thing to do. It’s called loyalty. Do you even understand that?” A week later, that woman posted a SoHo loft—exposed brick walls, twelve-foot ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows framing the city skyline. “Thank you for turning this house into a home.” In the photo, Preston stood at the kitchen island, pouring red wine. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off the Patek Philippe I gave him as an anniversary gift. I figured this marriage needed to end too. … When Preston came home, I was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a pregnancy test. Two lines. Eight weeks. We’d been married for five years. I was finally pregnant. I should’ve been ecstatic. I should’ve run out and thrown my arms around him, told him we were finally having a baby of our own. But I just tucked the test into the nightstand drawer, picked up my phone, and booked an OB-GYN appointment for the next day. Preston set a brown paper bag on the marble countertop and walked over to kiss my forehead. “I brought you lobster bisque from Le Bernardin.” I glanced at the container inside. The soup had separated, a thin layer of oil floating on top. I didn’t reach for it. “I’m not hungry.” He poured the bisque into a bowl anyway and brought it over to me. “Come on. You always love this.” The cold lobster bisque smelled fishy. My stomach lurched, and I ran to the bathroom and threw up. He followed me in and tried to rub my back. I smacked his hand away. “Don’t touch me.” That finally set him off. “What do you want from me? I’m trying to make it right. Isn’t that enough?” “I didn’t even give you a hard time about that Instagram comment, and you’re still not letting this go?” He looked completely self-righteous, like I was the one in the wrong. I looked at him, my voice shaking. “So you think I should be congratulating the woman carrying my husband’s child?” Preston yanked off his tie, his tone irritated. “Evan is dead. Ronnie wanted a baby to fill the void in her life. What’s wrong with that? I was Evan’s best friend. It was my responsibility to help her have that baby.” “And we never slept together. We did it through a fertility clinic—artificial insemination. Do you really have to make such a huge deal out of this?” “Right now, you’re being absolutely—” “Absolutely what?” “Unreasonable.” Unreasonable. When Evan first passed, I felt for Ronnie too. She became a widow at twenty-five. I used to invite her over for dinner all the time. When the power went out in her apartment, Preston and I both went over to help. Back then, Ronnie would say with red-rimmed eyes that if only Evan were still here, she wouldn’t have to trouble us. I’d tell her it was no trouble. That’s what friends are for. Preston would thump his chest and promise her she could call him anytime she needed anything. I thought he was just keeping a promise to his dead brother. Later, things started to shift. Without me knowing, Preston would go alone to help her haul Costco runs, go to her place to assemble Wayfair furniture, even drive over himself with burn cream when she burned her finger on the oven. Things he’d never once done for me without being asked. It didn’t sit right with me. Preston said he was just keeping his promise to Evan. I couldn’t argue with that. But I never imagined he’d “help” with something like this—having a baby. Did he ever stop to think that the child would call him Daddy and call Ronnie Mommy? What would that make me, his legal wife? What would it make the baby growing inside me? Preston got everything off his chest and finished with— “Think about it.” Then he slammed the door and left. At this hour, I knew exactly where he was headed. Sure enough, not long after, Ronnie updated her Instagram. In the photo, Preston’s hand rested on her belly. Caption: Baby daddy’s staying with us tonight. He says it finally feels like home here. ❤️ I looked at that photo and placed my hand on my own stomach. This baby—I hadn’t had the chance to tell him yet. And now, I didn’t see the point anymore.

Early the next morning, I went to that medical building on the Upper East Side. Dr. Carter’s practice was on the sixth floor. I had scheduled an ultrasound to confirm how far along I was and check on the baby. When the elevator doors opened, I saw Preston carefully guiding Ronnie toward me from the other end of the hallway. They sat down on a bench. Ronnie pointed at her ultrasound picture, saying something. Preston listened intently, jotting notes on his phone every so often. Without thinking, I rested my hand on my stomach. A sharp ache burned behind my eyes. I didn’t need this. I was about to turn around and take the stairs when Preston looked up and spotted me. His brows furrowed. “Are you following me?” Before I could say a word, Ronnie tugged at his sleeve, her voice anxious. “Preston, Audrey’s got the wrong idea, hasn’t she? Let me go explain. I don’t want this to cause problems between you two.” She made a move to stand up. Preston immediately pressed her back down into the chair. “You’re pregnant. Don’t get up. I’ll deal with this.” I had zero interest in that little performance and turned to leave. Preston grabbed my wrist so hard I nearly lost my balance. I steadied myself and looked up at his furious face. “Audrey, I made myself perfectly clear last night. How are you still not over this? And now you’re following me here?” I yanked my hand free. A red mark was already blooming around my wrist. “I don’t have time to follow you. I have a doctor’s appointment too.” He clearly didn’t believe me. “What’s your appointment for? Are you sick?” Ronnie suddenly stepped forward, tears brimming in her eyes, and grabbed my hand. “Audrey, after Evan died, I was so lonely. I just wanted a baby to keep me company. I’ve never once tried to come between you and Preston.” If all she really wanted was a baby, she could’ve gone to a sperm bank. There are hundreds of them in this country. But she picked Preston. I didn’t say anything. I just pulled my hand back. The next second, Ronnie clutched her forehead and started to collapse backward. “Preston… I think I’m going to faint…” Preston caught her, his face going pale. “Ronnie!” He whipped his head toward me, eyes blazing. “She’s pregnant, damn it! How could you push her?” I looked at them coldly. “I didn’t push her.” That only made him angrier. “I saw it with my own eyes, and you’re still lying? Thank god I caught her. If anything happened to her—” “I would never forgive you.” He wrapped his arm around Ronnie and walked away. I watched Preston’s back as he hovered protectively over her, and my hand instinctively moved to my own stomach. My baby. The baby we’d waited five years for. And his father was walking away with another pregnant woman in his arms. I took a deep breath and walked into the OB-GYN’s office. The doctor confirmed how far along I was and prescribed prenatal vitamins. I put the bottle in my bag and left the medical building. This baby—I decided to keep it. No matter what Preston chose, this baby was mine.

Preston didn’t come home for the next few days. I didn’t call to ask where he was. I booked a consultation with a divorce attorney and started going through my own financial records. The next time I saw Preston was on Ronnie’s Instagram. The man who never liked taking pictures together was wearing reindeer antlers, posing with Ronnie for maternity photos. Their hands layered on her belly, gazing at each other adoringly—looking exactly like a couple eagerly awaiting a new arrival. This time, I liked the photo. A few hours later, Preston called. He told me to come to his parents’ place for dinner that evening. By the time I arrived at the Barrett family townhouse on the Upper East Side—one of those old homes with stone steps and wrought-iron railings, with a doorman who’d never once smiled at me—someone else was already sitting in my seat at the dinner table. Ronnie. Patricia Barrett’s hand was resting on top of Ronnie’s. That woman, who hadn’t cracked a smile at me in five years, now had laugh lines crinkling the corners of her eyes. She’d never accepted me from the start. Preston marrying a girl from a middle-class family was, in her eyes, a downgrade for the Barrett name. Five years without a pregnancy just gave her a more legitimate reason to despise me. Ronnie saw me and flashed an apologetic smile. “Audrey, once Patricia found out about the pregnancy, she insisted I stay at the Hamptons house so she could look after me. Please don’t overthink it.” I ignored her, pulled out a chair off to the side, and sat down. Patricia Barrett barely glanced at me. Her hand still rested on Ronnie’s, her tone icy. “Five years, Audrey.” “Some women just aren’t meant to be mothers.” “And poor Ronnie—her husband gone, all alone in the world. Thank goodness Preston’s been taking care of her.” “Now she’s carrying the Barrett heir. I’m taking her to the Hamptons to stay. I assume you have no objections.” Her tone was a question. Her eyes were a notification. I nodded. “No objection.”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619zr4vWjL1fQ 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni870559”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

He asked me to donate my bone marrow to a core member of the family. I looked into his cold eyes and agreed without a second thought. It was my duty as the matriarch of the Moretti family. A year later, I was pregnant. He asked me again, because Isabella’s condition had returned. For the first time, I refused him. For my child. But he drugged my dinner. When I woke up in the family’s private clinic, my belly was empty, and my marrow had been taken. I turned over, dialed the number I swore I’d never call, and gave myself—and every secret I knew—to the federal government. He searched for me like a madman. “Catherine, where are you? We can have another child, I promise!” But behind the FBI’s firewall, no one heard his cries. … “Catherine, once you join the Eagle Project, you will be completely cut off from your past for at least ten years. Are you sure?” the FBI agent asked, his face grim. I smoothed the wrinkles on my clothes and said calmly, “I’m sure. I will dedicate the rest of my life to justice, with no regrets.” I did have one regret, but it didn’t matter anymore. The agent gave me a long, meaningful look and nodded. “This is a classified operation. We will erase all your records and create a new identity for you. Do you have any other requests?” The agent must have been wondering why the wife of a powerful family, who should have been living in luxury, would choose such a final path. No one ever expected I would turn myself over to the family’s greatest enemy. My face was blank, my gaze steady. “No requests. I will follow all arrangements.” In this city shrouded in shadows, justice needed me more than that man ever did. The agent stood up and shook my hand. “Catherine, thank you for your contribution to justice. Welcome to your new life.” As the top financial genius of our allied family, I married into the Moretti family in my prime, stepping back to manage their vast, dark empire from behind the scenes. Now, I had applied to become the blade that would destroy that empire, and the FBI had, against all odds, agreed. Only seven days left. In seven days, I would leave for a small, unknown town under a new name.

“Catherine, are you done? I’m waiting in the garage.” The text was from Leo. We hadn’t seen each other in a month. Ever since I woke up on that operating table in the private clinic and found my baby was gone, he had vanished, claiming he was “handling business on the West Coast.” His parents, the patriarch Carlo and his wife, had never liked me from the start. Our marriage was arranged by the previous Don to repay a favor. My family needed the Morettis’ protection, and the Morettis needed my family’s financial skills. My grandfather had seen something in Leo’s ruthless ambition, thinking he would be a capable ruler who wouldn’t hurt me emotionally—because he had no emotions to begin with. But my grandfather was wrong. They didn’t just dislike me; they treated me like a complete outsider. Leo hadn’t realized that I was no longer the compliant Catherine he knew. It was normal for him not to contact me for a month. Today was his mother’s birthday. I knew why he was here. To play the part of a loving couple in front of all the family members and allies. Even though I never fit in, I figured I could endure their fake compliments and judging stares one last time. In seven days, I’d be gone forever. I walked out into the underground parking garage of the Moretti Tower. Leo’s black, armored sedan was parked silently. He leaned against it, tall and imposing, his tailored suit radiating power and danger. He had a chiseled face and eyes that held no emotion. There was a time I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. I had to admit, that man had carved a deep mark into my heart. “I’m done.” His voice was calm, as if the child he personally destroyed had never existed. He didn’t even offer a single “I’m sorry.” I ignored him and reached for the passenger door. A delicate doll was lying on the seat, as if claiming its territory. How ironic. A cold sneer touched my lips. I slammed the door shut, walked around, and got into the back. I knew whose doll it was. Isabella’s. For her, he had personally snuffed out the life of our first child. I lost my baby, and my heart was hollowed out. And now, a doll was here to remind me of my failure? I stared out the window, my eyes instantly welling up as I saw a mother on the street holding her daughter’s hand. “How have you… been feeling?” I snapped back to the present and answered coldly, “Fine.” It had been exactly one month since I “lost the baby.” I hadn’t taken a single day off. Work was the only thing that could numb the pain, pulling me away from my grief, even if just for a moment. Leo glanced at me several times in the rearview mirror. “Don’t drink anything cold. Get some rest. The baby… we can have another one.” A wave of nausea washed over me. He was pretending to care about me? Our relationship had always been like a cold business contract, except for that one time. He had told me to give up the baby and donate my marrow to Isabella again. For the first time, I had screamed at him. For the first time, I had lost my mind. “I… was in the West Coast for a month dealing with some difficult business. That’s why I was so busy.” He was explaining himself. But I didn’t want to hear it anymore. Before, I would have played along with these meaningless conversations. But today, I just wanted to watch the world outside the window. After all, in a few days, I would be saying goodbye to it all forever.

I still remember that day. I felt dizzy while working on the accounts in my office. My personal assistant suggested I see a doctor. The ultrasound showed I was two months pregnant. The baby already had a tiny, flickering heartbeat, like a precious gem. That day, I was ecstatic. When I got back from the clinic, I had the chef prepare a lavish dinner, ready to share the wonderful news with him. He came back from a family meeting looking grave. Before I could even speak, he placed Isabella’s latest medical report in front of me. “Catherine, Isabella has relapsed. It’s critical. She needs a bone marrow transplant immediately. You’re coming with me to the clinic tomorrow.” He said it so matter-of-factly. In our year of marriage, he had never called me “darling.” On the rare occasions he used my name, it was always my full name. But he called her “Isabella.” Before, I had always done what he said. When I donated my marrow to Isabella a year ago, he lied and told me she was a “crucially important ally to the family.” I agreed. This time, I wanted to fight for my child. I refused him firmly. “I won’t do it again.” “I’m pregnant! I’m going to have this baby. He’s the heir to the Moretti family.” Leo fell silent. He looked down, and I could have sworn I saw his eyes turn red. After a long moment, he looked up, his voice like ice. “The family can have other heirs. But the Moretti family owes Isabella her life, and she only has one.” Tears streamed down my face. In his eyes, my child, the future heir to his family, was worth less than a symbol of honor? Her life was a life, but my child’s wasn’t? My maternal instincts made me stand my ground. I slammed the door and went to our bedroom, pulling the covers over my head. I thought he would back down for the sake of the child, that he would look for another donor. I never imagined he would put drugs in my water. I woke up thirsty in the middle of the night and drank from the glass on my bedside table. The world started spinning. When I came to, I was lying in a hospital bed at the clinic. An IV was stuck in my hand. Sharp pains shot through my abdomen and lower back. Oh, God, no! I instinctively reached for my belly, ignoring the searing pain in my back. A terrible feeling seized me. My baby! Mommy couldn’t protect you! He walked in, dressed in black, looking like an envoy from hell. My marrow had been extracted. The baby was gone. In that moment, a desperate wail tore from my throat, and my heart shattered into a million pieces.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619C4VYYXgZfg 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni108816”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

My fiancé and I are at the County Clerk’s office to sign our marriage license — and he rips the application out of my hands and shoves my best friend up to the counter in my place. “Chloe goes first. She’s pregnant — the baby needs his father’s name on the birth certificate. A Sinclair heir doesn’t come into this world without that.” “Besides, you two are best friends, right? What difference does it make who I marry?” Chloe leans into his chest, blushing. He hands the clerk a new application — her name already printed where mine should be. They show their IDs. They sign. The clerk processes it without blinking. Done. Just like that. Nate finally remembers I exist. Reaches over and ruffles my hair like I’m a dog that behaved well. “Relax. You’re still Mrs. Sinclair to everyone who matters. Once she has the baby, we’ll tell people it’s yours. Saves you the trouble of getting pregnant yourself.” “I’d never embarrass you in front of people. You know that.” He thinks I’ll crumble like I always do. Cry. Beg him not to leave. But I just smile, turn around, and grab his older brother by the arm. “Hayden. Our turn.” I slap my ID down on the counter. “You two are brothers, right? Same last name. So what’s the difference who I marry?” The entire office goes dead silent. “Wren, have you lost your fucking mind?” Nate’s laughing so hard his eyes are watering. “Do you even know who he is? That’s Hayden. My brother. You think he’d actually marry you?” Chloe peeks out from his chest, voice dripping with fake concern. “Wren, sweetie, I know you’re hurting, but don’t throw yourself at someone like that. Hayden is the Sinclair heir. You’re embarrassing yourself.” People in the waiting area start whispering. Someone mutters — “Couldn’t lock down the little brother so she’s going after the big one. The Carter girl has no shame.” I tune all of it out. I look at Hayden. His eyes are so dark I can’t see the bottom. Three years ago, the first time I went to the Sinclair house, I crashed into him in the hallway. I looked up, flustered, and the way he looked at me — it wasn’t innocent. But his lashes dropped and it was gone. After that, Hayden helped me a few times without being asked. Once I blacked out drinking alone at a bar and woke up in his guest room. When I was drowning in a deal that wouldn’t close, he stepped in and handled it. Quietly. Never said a word. I force it out. “Would you?” “I hold eighty percent of Carter Industries. Plus every joint venture between our families. Marry me, and it’s all yours.” Nate’s voice goes tight. “Hayden — don’t. She’s lost it.” Hayden looks away from me. “Too rushed.” Then he turns and walks out. Doesn’t look back. Leaves me standing there like an idiot. Nate strides over and ruffles my hair again — rough this time, like he’s handling a misbehaving pet. “That was a polite rejection, babe. You really thought he’d want you?” “Wren, you’ve been my pathetic little simp for years. Everyone in this city knows you can’t function without me.” His words crack something open. I think about right after college. He told me — behind his family’s back — he wanted to start a company. I sold my condo on Park Avenue. Wired him every penny. No contract. No equity stake. No IOU. Just blind, stupid love. He took that money and built himself a name. When his Series B fell apart and the key investor wouldn’t sign, I set up a dinner under the Carter Industries name. Drank until I was vomiting blood in the bathroom. The guy finally came around. The night Nate closed the round, he’d had a few drinks. He pinned me against the wall and kissed me until my mouth went numb. His chin dug into my shoulder, voice low and ragged — “Wren, why are you so good to me?” I was just grateful I could help. Everyone knew. People in our circle smiled to my face — Wren Carter, so loyal, so devoted — then called me a fool the second I turned around. My mom screamed at me about it a hundred times. Cried and said, “Your father’s reputation — everything he’s built — you’re dragging it through the mud.” I told her love wasn’t something to be ashamed of. But hearing him call me his simp — I realize I’ve been the punchline this whole time. Nate watches my face crumble. He sighs, almost fond, like he can see every pathetic memory flickering behind my eyes. His thumb brushes my cheek. That’s when I realize I’m crying. “Don’t cry. People are gonna think I’m some kind of monster.” He exhales. Those pretty-boy eyes go almost sincere. “Wren, you’ve been so good to me. I genuinely don’t want to hurt you.” “So be smart about this. I don’t want to embarrass you, and I don’t want your parents to lose face. You get what I’m saying, right?” Nate is like cheap whiskey. The first sip burns so bad you cry. But you keep drinking, and you keep drinking, until you’re so wasted you don’t even know you’re dying. He pulls out a wedding band and presses it into my palm. Then a printed photo — me and him, photoshopped in wedding attire. Names, date, a fake official seal in the corner. It looks almost real. “Show this to your parents. Tell them we eloped. Clean. Simple. No drama.”

But I spot it the second I look down. In the photo, just below the bride’s collarbone — a small mole. That’s Chloe. He grabbed some random picture of himself and Chloe, slapped my face on it, and didn’t even bother getting the details right. Couldn’t even be bothered to fake it properly. Chloe nestles into his chest, putting on her generous-saint act. “Nate was worried you’d feel embarrassed, so he had this made for you. Show it to your parents — they’ll never know. And don’t worry, sweetie — the wedding in three days is still all yours. I would never steal your spotlight.” I grip the photo so hard my fingertips go white. “Nate. You don’t think my dad will notice?” His tone is breezy. Certain. “You’ve always been great at performing for your father. Twenty-something years of playing the perfect daughter — what’s one more time?” I bite down on my lip. The words pile up in my throat. Every lie I’ve ever told my family was to cover for him. But before I can get any of it out — A cough behind me. Chloe clutches her stomach, looking fragile and pained. “I’ll come see you tonight.” Nate tosses the words over his shoulder. He’s already scooping Chloe up in his arms, carrying her out the door. I don’t know how long I stand there. My phone buzzes. A video. I open it without thinking. The frame jolts violently. Nate’s voice pours out of the speaker — satisfied, lazy, breathless. “Chloe, stop it… you’re gonna drain me dry.” Then rhythmic thudding. Over and over. The camera pans slowly. Two silhouettes reflected in a fogged-up car window, tangled together like they’ve melted into one. I press my phone face-down against the floor. Tears hit the marble. I think about four years ago. The day Chloe moved into our dorm, she stood in the doorway clutching a canvas bag, too scared to come inside. I laughed and pulled her in. Gave her half my bed. The first time she had lobster, I cracked it open and put it in her bowl. I took her shopping. The first time she bought anything over a hundred dollars, she spun around the dorm room squealing — “Wren, you’re my best friend in the whole world!” Later she asked if I had a crush on anyone. I said yes. Since I was sixteen. She tilted her head and grinned. “Let me see him! I wanna know what kind of guy is good enough for my Wren.” When I introduced them, I said, “This is my best friend.” Nate looked at her a beat too long. “Your friend’s cute.” Chloe ducked her head, blushing all the way to her ears. And I stood there thinking it was a good thing. That he approved of my friend. I handed them the knife myself. And now they’ve buried it in my back. “Stop crying.” Hayden. I don’t know when he showed up. My voice comes out wrecked. “Don’t worry. I won’t bother you again.” “When I said ‘too rushed,’ I meant a sloppy, last-minute thing like that isn’t good enough for you.” I look up. There’s a single red rose in his hand. He drops to one knee. “Wren — I’ve wanted to marry you for a long time.” “But I’m not letting you hand yourself over in a place like this.” He slides a ring onto my finger. Slowly. Deliberately. “Keep the ring. I’ll give you a real wedding. A real proposal. I’ll do all of it over again — the right way.” “But we’re filing the paperwork today.”

When the ring is on my finger and the paperwork is filed, I post a photo on Instagram — my left hand resting on Hayden’s chest, the diamond catching the light. Nate likes it instantly. He probably didn’t even look at it. He never does. He’s never once paid real attention to anything I post. Chloe’s message arrives first. “Nate told me you posted something. Sweetie, you’re not actually showing off that fake photo he made for you, are you? Delete it before someone notices — so embarrassing!!” Half an hour later, Nate’s text finally crawls in. “Good girl. Knew you’d come around. Didn’t spoil you for nothing.” “Chloe says she doesn’t care about titles. The three of us are family now — you’re the wife, she’s the other thing. Just stop being jealous, okay?” For the first time in four years, I don’t reply. I just wait. Quietly. For the look on his face when the wedding comes. The day before the ceremony, Hayden sends me an address. I push open the door — and freeze. Hanging in front of me is the wedding gown I designed in college. My dream dress. I drew it by hand and left the sketch on Nate’s desk one night. He was gaming. He glanced at it, mumbled “looks nice,” and went back to his screen. The sketch disappeared after that. The shop assistant tells me Hayden commissioned it three months ago. Right when my wedding to Nate was first announced. I step out of the fitting room, and Chloe’s shrill voice cuts through the air. “Nate! I want this one!” For a split second, Nate’s eyes flash — caught off guard, admiring — before Chloe’s whining snaps him back. “Babe, you said you owed me a wedding. You said you’d make it up to me. I want this dress. Wren won’t mind — right?” Nate reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Wren, Chloe’s pregnant. Don’t upset her. Let her have it — I’ll buy you something even better.” I don’t move. His patience vanishes. “That fitted silhouette doesn’t even look good on you. Chloe’s got the body for it.” He grabs me, rough and careless, yanks the gown off my shoulders. The whole thing slides to the floor. I’m standing there in my slip, arms crossed over my chest, stumbling backward. Nate hands his Black Card to the assistant without blinking. “Triple the price. Charge it.” Chloe hugs the dress to her chest and beams at me. Sweet as poison. Nate ruffles her hair, then turns to me like he just remembered something. “Oh — about tomorrow. Keep it low-key. Chloe’s doctor says her hormones can’t handle stimulation. I booked a little place in Queens — a few tables, a few friends, casual dinner. You hate big events anyway, right?” He shows me a photo of the venue. Mildew creeping up the walls to the ceiling. Round tables draped in cheap plastic. Fake flowers so tacky they look like funeral-home wreaths. I swallow the nausea and keep my voice flat. “Don’t worry about my wedding. Save this for you and Chloe.” Nate’s jaw tightens. “Chloe spent three days — pregnant — running around to find this place for you. She was on her hands and knees picking out those tablecloths and flowers.” “She does everything for you, and this is the face you give her?” He steps closer. Unclasps my necklace. Removes my earrings. My bracelet. “Also — don’t wear the heirloom set tomorrow. Chloe’s energy healer said your aura is too intense. Gold near the baby could hurt him. He’s fragile — can’t risk it.” At the mention of the baby, his voice goes soft. His mouth curls into that little smile. “Better safe than sorry. You’re the wife. Act like it. Be the bigger person.” He nods to himself, satisfied. Grabs a bridesmaid dress off the rack and holds it out to me. “Wear this tomorrow.”

I glance at it. Blush-pink chiffon. Cheap, scratchy fabric. You wouldn’t even put this on a bridesmaid. “It’s just a formality anyway. Dressing up too much would steal the spotlight, right?” I don’t want to fight anymore. I turn to leave. Nate grabs my wrist and yanks me back. His eyes go soft — that melting, tender look he always pulls out when he needs me to fold. Every single time he wants me to give in, this is the face he makes. Slap me, then hand me candy. Same trick. Every time. “Why are you being difficult? You think your husband won’t buy you nice things?” “Once Chloe has the baby, I’ll make it up to you. The Hamptons estate — you’ve always wanted to do it there, right? I’ll let you go all out. Whatever you want.” His breath is warm against my skin. His lips graze my earlobe. Then Chloe comes running over in tiny, frantic steps, clutching a bundle of torn fabric. “This dress is such garbage! It ripped before I even put it on!” “Wren, what kind of trash boutique is this?” Before I can open my mouth, he’s already pulling her into his chest. “It’s just a dress, babe. I’ll take you somewhere for a custom one.” He walks past me and ruffles my hair one more time. “Don’t be late tomorrow. Don’t embarrass me.” The morning of the wedding, Nate wakes up to his phone buzzing nonstop. The group chat has blown up — ninety-nine-plus messages, all tagging him. Brody’s latest: “Bro, your girl posted a carousel — venue looks insane. Why aren’t you on your way to pick her up yet?” “She looks UNREAL today, man.” Nate taps into my Instagram. A hand-beaded couture gown, the train spilling across the entire bed. I’m wearing the Sinclair heirloom set — choker, earrings, bracelet. I look expensive. Untouchable. Caption: All dressed up. Waiting for my groom. His mouth curves up before he can stop it. Chloe pokes her head out from under his arm, pouting. “She’s wearing all that gold on purpose! She’s trying to hurt my baby! The energy healer said—” “If you let her get away with this today, she’s walking all over me and your child!” Chloe cries until Nate’s jaw clenches with irritation. Brody’s call comes in at just the right moment. “Bro, the car’s ready! Everyone’s waiting on you!” Nate cuts him off. “What car? Don’t make a big deal of it. You go pick her up. Tell her I’m not feeling well — she can come to me.” “She’s been acting out lately. Needs to be put in her place.” “A cab is fine. Can’t keep spoiling her.” A few minutes later, Brody texts back. “Uh… bro? Your girl just got picked up. In a Rolls-Royce. By your brother. Something you arranged on the side? ” “We were all set to film her getting into a cab so we could roast her in the group chat. You switched up the script on us, man. We waited for nothing.” Nate opens his mouth to argue. Swallows it. Whatever. As long as she shows up. Saves him another tantrum later. Telling himself he doesn’t care, he’s already in the closet reaching for his custom suit. Nate pushes through the doors of the banquet hall. A handful of his buddies scattered around a half-empty room. They start hollering. “Where’s the bride? Stop hiding her!”

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619X6ajIvM7qQ 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni372534”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix

Five years ago, Christian died in a gunfight protecting me from a rival gang. Now I saw him in the hospital when I having survived the suicide attempt. He had one arm around Lucia and the other holding a little girl who looked just like him. He looked up. Our eyes met. The smile on his face went frozen. His mother, the woman who had called me a murderer at his funeral, was now stumbling over herself to block Lucia from my view. “Elena, what are you doing here—” “Christian had no choice back then, you have to understand—” I looked down at my hospital gown. At the fresh bandages on my wrists. “So.” I said. “While you all watched me lose my mind — while I was swearing a widow’s oath over his body — you thought I was the punchline. Is that it?” Nobody answered. Christian moved Lucia behind him. He looked at me warily. Five years. He’d been alive for five years. And I was the only one who didn’t know. The little girl wrapped her arms tighter around his neck. “Daddy,” she said.

My chest went cold. Lucia hid behind Christian as if I were some kind of monster, yet a blatant provocation flashed in her eyes. Seeing my stunned expression, she reached out and gripped Christian’s arm tightly. The diamond ring on her hand dazzlingly bright. “Christian.” Her voice was soft. Just loud enough for me to hear. “Today is our anniversary. We’re going to miss the show.” I looked past them at the screen on the wall. January 22nd. Their wedding anniversary. The same date Christian had promised to propose to me. The same date, five years ago, that I buried him. At that funeral, his family circled me like I was already guilty. I knelt. I said sorry until my voice gave out, until my knees bled through my dress. You killed him. You should have died instead. Why are you still breathing? I’d spent five years trying to answer that last question. If I hadn’t gone into that warehouse after him, none of it would have happened. I walked straight into a rival ambush. Christian came back for me. He took the bullet that was meant for him and lost his only way out. The explosion brought the whole building down. But he hadn’t died. He’d been alive this whole time — with a wife, with a daughter. My eyes were dry. I had nothing left to cry with. I stared at him for a long time. Lucia kept tugging at his sleeve, and his mother came forward again. “Christian had no choice, Elena, you don’t understand how complicated—” “How complicated,” I said. “Right.” I took one step toward him. He took one step back. “I married you,” I said. “You know that? After your funeral. Your mother gave me permission to take your name. “I stood at the altar in a white dress and held a photograph of your face and swore the widow’s oath with my own blood.” Christian went white. Lucia pressed her daughter’s face into her shoulder. “I thought I owed you my life,” I said. “I spent five years trying to pay it back.” Christian reached for me. I stepped back. “Don’t touch me.” I looked at the little girl half-asleep on Lucia’s shoulder. “What’s her name,” I said. Christian’s hand moved to his cuff. “Nova,” he said. Nova. New life. The name he’d promised me four years into what I thought was ours, lying in bed one night talking about the future. If we ever have a daughter, I want to call her Nova. That was his wish. He’d given it to someone else. I reached up and unclasped the cross necklace from my throat. The one I’d worn every day since his funeral. I dropped it into the trash can by the nurses’ station.

The first time I met Christian, I didn’t trust him. He wasn’t family. Not by blood, not by history. He’d come up through a crew in South Boston, earned his place soldier by soldier. My father had promoted him to Capo. My mother died the night I was born. A hemorrhage during labor — she didn’t make it to morning. Nobody said it was my fault directly. But I grew up knowing it was the thing people thought about when they looked at me. Christian was the first to understand my sensitivity and vulnerability. He was patient. He showed up every time he said he would. He remembered small things — how I took my coffee, which side of the booth I preferred, the anniversary of my mother’s death. So I let him in. All the way in. We were careful at first, the way you have to be when the Don is your father. But my father saw it coming before either of us said a word. My father told him straight: You hurt her, I’ll handle it personally. We fell in love for four years. That’s how long I thought we had something real. Then Lucia arrived. She was the adopted daughter of a low-level enforcer who ran collections in the North End. Small, quiet, the kind of woman who made herself easy to overlook. Christian brought her to a dinner one evening and introduced her around. I didn’t think much of it. The first time I made a concession for her, it was the gallery. I’d spent two years building that operation — a high-end art front on Commonwealth Avenue, clean enough to pass any audit, profitable enough to move serious money. It was mine. I’d sourced the artists, handled the books, kept the whole thing running without a single problem. Then Christian sat me down. “Her father’s in debt to the family,” he said. “If he loses the gallery position, he gets cut loose. And if he gets cut loose, Lucia has nothing. No protection, no income, nowhere to go.” He looked at me. “You’re the Don’s daughter. You can rebuild something like this in six months. She can’t.” I looked at him for a long moment. “You’re asking me to give up two years of work,” I said. “I’m asking you to give her father a way to stay in,” he said. “That’s all.” I didn’t argue. I told myself it was the right thing. I signed the gallery over. Lucia sent me a thank-you note. After that she was everywhere — family dinners, the club, always nearby, always just within Christian’s orbit. The night it broke open, Lucia got herself into trouble at one of the family’s clubs. Wrong crowd, wrong room. Christian went in after her. By the time it was over he’d broken the terms of a standing truce with a rival crew to get her out. She was wearing his jacket when they brought her out. I told him that night that I was done. That I was leaving. He showed up at my door two hours later. I’d never seen him cry before. He stood in the hallway with red eyes and shaking hands and said my name like it was the only word he had left. “You’re the only one,” he said. “I swear to God, Elena. She’s just someone I feel responsible for. That’s all it is. Please.” I stayed. I tore up the ticket and I stayed, because I loved him, and because he asked me to, and because I’m afraid of losing one of the few people in this world who love me.

Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619KYi1iNeVgp 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni674313”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix