Author: Momo Chan

I waited eight years for him to say “I do” — until he handed my bouquet to his assistant. The bouquet landed in Ella Morgan’s arms almost by accident. Lana Shaw’s carefully aimed throw sailing perfectly into the crowd — but it bounced off the other fingertips, then tumbled once in the air, and fell into Ella Morgan’s lap like fate correcting a mistake. Every eye in the room turned knowingly toward Nate Sinclair. It was involuntary, collective, the way a room full of people who’d watched a couple orbit each other for eight years would naturally look to the man and think: *now.* The chanting started almost instantly. “Put a ring on it! Put a ring on it!” “Eight years, Quinn! No more excuses!” “Kiss her! Propose! Do *something!*” Someone pushed Nate forward. He stumbled a step, then steadied himself. Ella felt her cheeks flush. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She waited for the words she had been waiting eight years to hear. This was it. The moment they had engineered with surgical precision — every detail coordinated with Lana months in advance. And he was supposed to say *I will marry you.* Nate reached her. The noise swelled around them — whistles, applause, someone banging a fork against a champagne flute. But Nate only reached down and calmly took the bouquet from her hands. He turned with casually and easily, as though the gesture meant nothing, and handed it to the bridesmaid beside him —his assistant, Rain Chambers. “She caught it first,” Nate said. He smiled, easy and familiar, and ruffled Ella’s hair. “Be good, baby. Next time.” The spotlight followed the flowers away. It found Rain Chambers — Nate’s assistant, who had no business being a bridesmaid at this wedding — clutching the flowers with an expression of perfect, rehearsed surprise. Ella stood alone in the center of the floor. The applause had shifted, scattered, refocused on the pretty girl with the bouquet and her shy, delighted smile. Ella’s hands hung empty at her sides. She smiled. It was a quite small Nate didn’t know. There would be no next time. Her wedding was next week.

Lana’s face darkened. She was already striding across the floor, her bridal train gathered in one fist, the other hand rising like she intended to slap someone. Ella caught her wrist before she could raise her hand. “Lana,” Ella said quietly, “the wedding isn’t over.” “That woman did it on purpose!” Lana turned. Her eyes were redder than Ella’s. “I told every bridesmaid that bouquet was for you—” “Lana.” Ella squeezed her hand, her voice was quiet, steady. “Your wedding isn’t over yet.” The crowd had already moved on. The spotlight followed Rain, who clutched the bouquet and glanced at Nate with shining eyes. Nate had already stepped back to the edge of the crowd, at ease. The officiant, a seasoned old family priest, cracked a joke and the warmth returned to the room. Lana bit her lip, turned away, and finished her vows. Through the reception, Ella sat at the bridal table. She felt the stares—the pity, the curiosity. On the other side of the room, Nate laughed with his friends. Rain sat beside him, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. The distance between them had long since crossed the line of what was appropriate for an assistant. She hadn’t been a bridesmaid originally. But the groom’s side had been short a groomsman at the last minute, and someone suggested Rain. Nate brought her everywhere now. “Experience,” he called it. Even to her girlfriend’s best friend’s wedding. When Lana and her new husband reached their table for toasts, Lana hugged Ella hard. Her voice dropped to a whisper only Ella could hear. “That woman has been circling him for six months. I had someone look into her — she’s calculating, Ella. Every move is deliberate. And Nate, he—” “Lana.” Ella patted her back and cut her off. “You’re the most beautiful bride today. Don’t waste it on this.” Lana huffed but said nothing more. — The night wore on. Guests filtered out in twos and threes. The music softened. The staff began clearing tables. Finally, Nate walked over, calm and unhurried. “Ready to go?” He took her bag from her hands, then reached to put his arm around her shoulder. Ella shifted sideways, just out of reach. “You’ve been drinking. I’ll call a car.” He didn’t seem to notice her evasion. He nodded. “Fine.” The car slipped into the dark city streets. Neon signs blurred past the window. Ella’s own reflection stared back at her—carefully made up, but the exhaustion under her eyes was unmistakable. “Earlier,” Nate said, “Rain got the bouquet first. She’s young. Probably just wanted some wedding luck.” He shrugged. “You can’t blame her. Don’t take it to heart.” Ella said nothing. She watched the city lights bleed into one another. After a moment, he glanced at his phone, then at her. “Are you mad?” He leaned closer. “I said next time, didn’t I? Our wedding will be better than Lana’s. You can have as many bouquets as you want, okay?” His fingers threaded through her hair and rubbed the back of her neck—gentle, soothing, like calming a restless pet. The ache spread through her chest like something dissolving. Every time. It was always the same. Soft words, empty promises of “next time.” And then he assumed the storm had passed. “Nate,” she said, watching his reflection in the glass. “Yeah?” “Lana and I made a vow when we were children.” Her voice was flat. “Whoever got married first — the other one’s wedding had to happen within a week.” “We were going to be each other’s maid of honor. We were going to be the first to witness each other’s happiness.” The car went quiet. His hand stopped moving on her neck. “That was kid stuff,” he said, and laughed. “You can’t be serious. Plans change. Venues, schedules, catering—these things take months, sometimes a year. We’ll plan properly. I’ll give you the perfect wedding. What’s the hurry?” He didn’t explain why he hadn’t been able to make a single public commitment tonight. He just skipped straight to “how to plan a perfect wedding.” Ella thought of a fitting room, one month before tonight. Lana spinning her around in front of a three-way mirror, eyes bright and brimming. “Ella, you look incredible in this. I designed it just for you.” The dress had been champagne-colored silk, with tiny pearls stitched along the waistline. Lana had spent weeks on it. “When it’s your turn,” Lana had said, her voice cracking, “I’m making you the most beautiful wedding gown anyone’s ever seen.” Nate had been there that day. He’d been answering emails on his phone, head down, thumbs flying. At Lana’s declaration, he’d glanced up briefly, smiled. “Looks nice.” Then his eyes had dropped back to the screen. In that moment, surrounded by champagne silk and her best friend’s joy, Ella had felt it clearly for the first time — the quiet, creeping grief of eight years without an answer. The car pulled into the parking garage. The engine cut. Nate unbuckled his seatbelt. He seemed to consider the evening resolved — the small unpleasantness of the bouquet addressed, the apology delivered, normalcy restored. He leaned across the console toward her, angling for a kiss. Ella lifted her hand and pressed it gently against his shoulder. He froze. “I’m tired, Nate,” she said.

He looked at her. Held the silence for a few seconds. Then he patted her shoulder, casual as ever. “Being maid of honor is exhausting. Get some rest.” He paused. “Rain said she can’t find a car. It’s late — not safe for a girl to be out alone. I’ll swing by and drop her off.” “Okay,” Ella said. Her voice was flat. He didn’t move right away. He seemed to be waiting—for her to tell him to be careful, like she always did. Or to complain, with a little hurt in her voice, that it was too late to go out. But Ella just opened the car door and stepped out. The car pulled away behind her. She closed the door and collapsed onto the sofa. She lay there for a long time. Then she got up and walked toward the bedroom. She passed the room they had called “the nursery.” Her steps slowed. They had planned it when they bought this house four years ago. A nursery. But there was no child now. The room had filled, instead, with boxes and clutter. She walked inside. On the dusty crib, she found a stack of old things. Love letters in his handwriting. Movie tickets. Amusement park passes. Instant photos from their trips together. At the bottom was a photo from their college graduation. He was carrying her on his back under a cherry blossom tree. She had her arms around his neck. Her hair and the pink petals flew in the wind. On the back, he had written in bold, careless strokes: *I’ll carry you forever. That’s a promise.* The weak light from the living room fell on those words. Cold. Like a silent mockery. Like a joke that had stopped being funny a long time ago. From downstairs, she heard the faint sound of a car pulling into the garage. She stayed where she was, just listening. The key turned in the lock. Footsteps, deliberately light. After a moment, the door pushed open. He stood in the doorway. “Not asleep yet?” She didn’t turn around. She stayed crouched by the crib. “No.” “What made you dig these out?” His voice was light. “Feeling nostalgic?” She didn’t answer his question. She asked quietly, “Did you get her home?” He paused. Then he explained, “Yeah. She lives far. It really is hard to get a taxi there.” “Oh.” She looked down again and carefully stacked the photos back in place. “It’s late,” he said again. This time he reached out to pull her up. She didn’t take his hand. She pushed herself up on her knees, wincing a little. Her legs had gone numb from crouching so long, and she swayed. “Nate.” “Yeah?” He stopped walking. “Let’s break up.” He stopped moving. He looked at her for two seconds. Then he laughed. He reached up and loosened his tie. “Still thinking about the bouquet? Don’t be so sensitive.” His voice was patient, the way you soothe a child throwing a tantrum. “Fine. I’ll order you a bigger one tomorrow, okay? Now go wash up and get some sleep. I have an early meeting.” He turned and walked toward the bathroom. “One week,” Ella said to his back. Her voice was quiet. “I’m getting married.”

His hand, resting on the bathroom door handle, froze. A few seconds passed. Then he turned around. The indulgent warmth on his face had been stripped away entirely. “Ella. Enough.” He lifted his hand and pressed his fingers against his temple. “Marriage is a major decision. You don’t just throw it together because you’re upset.” “October twenty-eighth,” she added calmly. “The venue is booked. The dress is ready.” He let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “This is Lana, isn’t it? She’s been in your ear again. She rushed into her own wedding, and now she thinks everyone else should do the same?” “Ella, think clearly. Don’t let her drag you into something stupid. We’ve been together for eight years—” “Nate.” She cut him off. “The invitations go to print tomorrow.” A muscle twitched beneath his eye. “You think this is going to work? This will only make me think you’re childish. Irrational.” His voice climbed, each word landing harder than the last. “I’m at a critical point right now — the family is in the middle of a power shift, and this is supposed to be the moment I prove myself. A wedding right now would split my focus and throw off everything I’ve been working toward.” “Are you really that desperate to get married?” The words hit her like stones flung across the room. Once, this tone would have made her flinch. Would have sent her scrambling to explain, to apologize, to retreat. Not anymore. But now she felt nothing in her chest but calm. His attention had always been expensive. There was only so much of it to go around — between the deals that needed closing, the family politics that needed navigating, and the pretty assistant who required late-night check-ins, birthday surprises, and the occasional business trip that conveniently included a spa resort. What was left for the girlfriend was never much. craps. Crumbs swept to the edge of the table. Ella met his gaze and nodded. “Yes. All our friends are married now. I want to be married too.” She turned and walked into the bedroom. On the nightstand, there was still a fashion magazine from six months ago. The cover headline read: *“Every Bride-to-Be Must Read! The Perfect Three-Month Wedding Countdown Guide.”* She had bought it in a rush of excitement, flipped through a few pages, and then set it down when Nate said — as he always said — *no rush.* It had not been opened since. In the darkness, she stared at the blurred outline of the ceiling. Her phone buzzed softly. The screen lit up. A message from Lana. 【Still awake? I can’t stop thinking about that woman’s face. It makes me so angry. What is Nate even thinking?】 What was he thinking? Nothing special. Nothing new. He was exactly who he had always been. The world doesn’t always bloom just because you wait. Another long text came in. 【Remember our vow? No more than a week apart. I meant it.】 【But that idiot of yours stood there with the bouquet in your hands and still didn’t get it. Eight years, not eight months. Forget it. This time, I’m giving you permission to break the promise.】 Ella’s fingers paused for a second. Then she typed back. 【Babe, have I ever broken a promise to you?】

Nate moved out the next day. He packed a bag and moved into the small apartment near the office. The one he used when work ran late. He said her sudden talk about marriage made him feel suffocated. He needed space. Fine. She needed space too. She quietly spent the following days putting things in order. The apartment — the one they had picked out together five years ago, furnished together, built a life in together — she listed it with a real estate agent. The day she handed the keys to the agent, she went home and sorted through the last of her things. In an old magazine, she found a project file. One of Nate’s current deals. She hesitated, then decided to bring it to him. His studio was not far. She could drop it off. When she arrived at his apartment, the door was shut. Muffled laughter came from inside. More than one person. She raised her hand to knock. A familiar voice drifted out, pitched in that particular register of feminine distress — just helpless enough to be charming: “Mr. Sinclair, it’s all my fault. I’ve never caught a bouquet before — I had no idea it would cause such a fuss. Now everyone in the office group chat is talking. Several coworkers asked me privately if you and I are…” She paused. “You really need to clear things up for me in the group. Otherwise, I’ll be too embarrassed to show my face.” Ella’s hand froze in midair. Before Nate could answer, one of his friends cut in, laughing. “Come on, Rain. Do you actually want him to clear it up? Or are you just trying to get him to say something else?” A ripple of knowing laughter. Rain’s voice came back, mock-offended and sweet: “You’re terrible!” Not a trace of genuine annoyance. “Enough,” Nate said. His voice was easy. Indulgent. “Don’t tease her. It’s not important. People will forget about it in a few days.” *People will forget about it in a few days.* The words opened a door in her memory. Early in their relationship, Ella had stopped by the office to help Nate with some paperwork. He had forgotten himself — draped an arm over her shoulder in the hallway. A colleague spotted them. That same afternoon, he had posted a calm message in the company group chat. *Just clearing up a misunderstanding, everyone please stay focused.* She had understood back then. She had stopped going to his office. Now she understood something else. It wasn’t office romance he minded. It was being seen with *her*. A woman who couldn’t help his career. Nothing to his ambition. Nothing but love — and love, apparently, was not a currency that spent well in public. Another friend spoke up, confused. “Wait, Nate. How did you smooth things over with Ella? I actually got a wedding invitation this morning. This is too sudden.” A brief silence. Then Nate laughed — short, cool, hollow. “The small stuff, I can indulge. But this time, she needs to learn on her own that throwing a tantrum doesn’t get results.” “So you’re really not going?” someone asked. Nate didn’t answer. Silence was its own answer. Then another friend spoke, more carefully. “Nate, are you sure you want to let it go this far? We’ve been waiting to drink your wedding toast for years.” He paused. Then he said, half joking, half probing, “Unless… you have other plans? Like, with a certain secretary?” “Mr. Vic~” Rain drew out his name in a teasing voice. “Don’t joke like that. Mr. Sinclair knows what he’s doing.” Those last words — soft, intimate, loaded. Nate did not correct her. A murmur of shared, masculine amusement filled the room. Someone else chimed in, “To be fair, Nate’s already more loyal than most. After all these years, anyone else would have run out of patience.” “What does Ella even do for you? She just gives you trouble. Not like our Rain here. Smart, capable, shows up when it counts…” Rain interrupted, playing coy. “Don’t say that.” The motion-sensor light in the hallway had gone dark again. Ella stood in the blackness, the project file pressed against her chest. After a long moment, she bent down. Slid the envelope beneath the door with the toe of her shoe. Quietly. Precisely. Then she turned and walked away.

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The moment they shoved me out the window, I heard Kate laughing. “Say goodbye to your life of the Vegas Gambling King, bro.” That was John Miller speaking. My best friend. And Kate, my wife of three years, stood right beside him. His hand was sliding over her waist. She was still holding that bottle of champagne she’d drugged me with. Then they kissed. Slow. Triumphant. Hungry. And I started falling. From thirty floors. The Vegas neon blurred into a fog of light and shadow, exactly like the glory I’d seen when I first arrived here. The wind roared in my ears. Ten minutes ago, I was still at the table. The man across from me pushed five million toward me and asked if I had the guts to match it. I slid my stack forward with absolute confidence. “All in.” I flipped the cards. Perfect twenty-one. The crowd erupted. Confetti cannons fired. Golden paper rained from the ceiling. The Vegas celebrity Mr. Dawson raised my hand and thundered: “Vegas, welcome your new KING!” Fifty million in prize money. Ten years of gambling with zero losses. Then one glass of champagne. And everything went to zero. I was betrayed by my best buddy and the woman I thought was my true love. He forced me to sign the divorce papers, transferred my trillion-dollar fortune. I reached for her but she pushed me off the tallest building in Vegas. The new legendary gambling king of Las Vegas！falling on the very day of his coronation. … The Vegas neon still flickers. Just not for me anymore. I curl in the depths of an alley reeking of rot, both hands twisted at grotesque angles. Who am I? Where did I come from? My memories are like shredded playing cards scattered across the ground！impossible to piece together into anything whole. Only hunger is real. A soggy, half-eaten sandwich lands in front of me. I crawl toward it with everything I have. A filthy boot suddenly stomps on it. Sauce splatters across my face. “Bad luck. Even trash wants to steal my food.” The boot kicks my shoulder. I tumble backward. My skull cracks against concrete. The second kick is coming！ “STOP! I’ll call the police!” The light at the alley entrance splits open. A middle-aged man, broad-shouldered and thick-backed. Beside him, a girl holds up her phone, the cold screen-glow illuminating her tight jawline. The homeless man mutters and shuffles away. The girl crouches down. Streetlight gilds her hair with warm gold. “Sir, are you okay?” I stare at her blankly. Something churns in the depths of my memory！shattering wine glasses, the world spinning, a pushing palm, the weightlessness of falling！but I can’t catch a single clear face. “We can help you contact your family!” “I don’t know!” I curl into myself, trembling, hands over my head. “I don’t know anyone! Please don’t kill me… don’t kill me…” The girl and her father exchange glances. “Dad… I think he has amnesia. And his hands!” The middle-aged man lifts my deformed wrist, his brow furrowing deeply. “Both hands fractured. Without care, he won’t last a few days.” A few days. So that’s all my life is worth. The girl reaches toward me. Palm up. “Sir, I’m Leah. My father Sam runs a small bar nearby. You can stay for a while. Maybe you’ll remember something. Okay?” I stare at that hand. Hesitate for one heartbeat. Then slowly, slowly, I take it.

“Sean! Table three needs another round!” “Sean! Whiskey on the rocks!” “SEAN！” I weave through Sam’s bar, a tray loaded with glasses that don’t wobble an inch. I flick my wrist. Several menus fly out like they’ve been enchanted, arcing through the air before landing perfectly on tables across the room. I spin back. Ice cubes scatter from my shaker, clinking as they drop into a line of glasses behind the bar, casting rainbow halos. “Sean, you’re the man!” “Wooo, bro, do it again!” “Sean, King of the Vegas Bar! Sean, OUR KING!” The crowd roars. The atmosphere burns. Behind the bar, Sam and Leah watch from a distance, smiles pulling at their mouths. “Look at those moves,” Sam murmurs. “If I hadn’t seen it myself, who’d believe this was the beggar from that alley?” Leah’s eyes follow me. “He wanted to save enough to pay us back for the medical bills.” “Medical bills?” Sam laughs. “With what he’s done to our revenue, I should be paying HIM a bonus.” I carry drinks to a table of women in the corner. My fingers twist, and a rose appears from behind a bottle. “Your drink, miss.” Their laughter never stops. They don’t just order more！they stuff tips into my apron. Leah walks over, hands me a water bottle. “Dad couldn’t stop talking about how capable you are.” I reach for it. Our fingertips brush. We both freeze. She jerks her hand back, ears burning red. “This isn’t just ‘helping out.’ This bar was dying before you came！” The bar door EXPLODES open. A sloppy young man with a cigarette dangling from his lips storms in. His eyes are poisoned knives, stabbing straight at me. “Who the hell said you could touch MY bar stuff? Get the hell away!” He grabs my collar. Alcohol and casino-cigar stench blast my face. “You’ve got it wrong, sir. I’m the server here, and we’re actually closing the bar！” “Wrong my ass!” He slams me against the wall. “I’m Sam Peterson’s son! You think some damn dishwasher can tell ME what to do?!” Mike Peterson. Leah’s brother. The “good-for-nothing bastard son” Sam never talked about without sighing. He spots the cash in my apron pocket. Greed flashes. He snatches it. “That’s for the medical bills to pay back!” “Medical bills my ass!” He shoves me. “Pay your future boss first!” He shoves hard. I stagger back, my lower back crashing into the bar. And when my elbow knocks over a stack of dice, the dice scatter across the counter. In that instant, images flash！ Crystal chandeliers. Green felt. My fingers closing around the dice cup. Three dice inside. A flick of the wrist. The dice spinning against the cup walls, striking, falling. The reveal. Triple sixes. A tsunami of chips crashing toward me. The man across the table, face ashen, then eyes blood-red as he lunges！ Those red eyes in the images overlap with Mike’s furious ones in the reality. I grab a whiskey glass on instinct, scooping the scattered dice inside, wrist rotating. Then flick！ “AGH！!” Mike stumbles back, clutching his eye. The money scatters across the floor. I look down at the bar. The remaining dice sit in a perfect straight line, ordered by size. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. A straight. Mike stares in shock. “You！you did that on PURPOSE!” “No, I didn’t！” “Shut up! You’re DEAD tonight!” He swings again. The fist nears my face. I dodge on instinct, with the glass rim catching his temple. He jerks away and I flick the last die from the glass bottom into the air！ It spins. Falls. Lands in his gaping mouth. “GUH！!” He chokes, doubling over, coughing wildly. Money flies everywhere. I look at the counter. The remaining five dice have somehow flipped themselves over in the vibration. Six. Six. Six. Six. Six. A leopard. All sixes. “SEAN!” Leah rushes over, putting herself between us. “Mike! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Mike straightens, dice crumbs still at the corner of his mouth, eyes full of horror. “Leah, I’m your BROTHER! And you’re defending this punk！” “You stole his money and hit him, and YOU’RE the victim?” Mike’s face goes greenish. His fists crack. He looks at me, then at Leah shielding me, and suddenly smiles. That smile is a viper’s tongue. “Fine. Real fine.” He reaches to poke Leah when a group bursts through the door. “MIKE PETERSON! Where the hell are you hiding?! Get out here and PAY UP!” Mike immediately shrinks behind the bar, praying hands toward Leah. I comes following Leah out from behind the counter. A group of thug-looking men faces us. I instinctively pull Leah behind me. “Who are you?” The leader is young, well-dressed, a playful smirk on his lips. Behind him, a tall thin man toys with a deck of cards. The shuffling sounds like a snake hissing. “Who are we?” The leader snorts. “Damn, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all week.” Leah tugs my sleeve, voice trembling. “That’s Lucas Marsh! His father is the biggest crime boss in this district. We can’t mess with him.” Lucas slaps a contract on the table. “Your brother owes us over a hundred grand. Today he pays, or he dies.” “A hundred thousand? Didn’t we just pay off his debt months ago?” Leah’s hands shake as she picks up the contract. “Yeah, well, the idiot went straight back to the tables.” Lucas smirks. “Told you. A gambling dog can’t be saved. Debts must be paid. You still have this dump of a bar, right? Sell it to me. Might cover a fraction.” “But this is our last property! Without it, we have nowhere to live!” Lucas shrugs, swaggering toward Leah. One hand tilts her chin up. “Can’t sell the bar? Sell yourself then. With that face, working as my club’s top girl, you’d make a fortune！” I clamp his wrist. “Watch your hands.” Lucas jerks back, stumbling, face darkening. “Who the hell do you think you are?” He turns to Leah, voice sliding over her skin like a snake. “Listen here, you little bitch. This land has already been targeted by John Miller! Even if you don’t mortgage it to me, you’ll lose it sooner or later! And with my father’s connection to Miller, you won’t see a SINGLE DIME when that happens!” John Miller. That name is a burning needle stabbing into my temple. Head splitting. Images surging！ A suited man grabbing my right wrist, twisting hard. “Say goodbye to your ‘gambling god life,’ bro!” I shake my head violently, trying to drive out the visions. Mike tries to sneak away from behind the bar, but two sharp-eyed thugs spot him, dragging him before Lucas. “Please, Lucas! Give me a few more days, I swear I’ll pay!” Lucas sneers, nodding to his men. One kicks Mike’s leg, dropping him to his knees. Another flick opens a switchblade. CLICK！the blade extends. Cold steel presses against Mike’s fingers. “Sorry, kid. The boss needs money NOW. So every minute you waste, I cut off one finger.” Mike’s eyes dart around frantically. Then they fix the dice and cards on the bar. “WAIT! WAIT! Give me one more chance！” “Chance?” Lucas leans down. “You already burned my last shred of trust when you ran last time!” Mike’s gaze suddenly locks, like a drowning man grabbing his final straw. He looks at Leah. His lips tremble. He says something that freezes my blood: “Lucas, I’ll bet my SISTER to you! Didn’t you say she could be a stripper?” Leah stands frozen. Her eyes fill with shock and disbelief. “BROTHER! WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!” “Mike, you COWARD!” Lucas SLAMS the table, laughing wild and triumphant. “DEAL! It’s SETTLED!”

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Thanksgiving weekend was finally here, and my attorney husband had finally agreed to take the family on a trip. But right as we were about to board, Derek still hadn’t shown up ！ him or Lily. Just a text. [Legal heavyweight Nathan Rhodes is meeting with our firm about a partnership. Bringing Lily along. Go enjoy yourself.] Then a voice message from Lily, bright and breathless: “Mom, he’s like my absolute idol! I really want to go!” Looking at the two of them, so sincere and united, I said one word. Fine. Then I called my childhood best friend to come pick me up. The second I saw Nathan, I smiled. “Shouldn’t you be sitting across from my husband right now?” — Nathan stared at me, completely lost. I shook my head, said nothing, and pulled open the passenger door. “Draw up a divorce agreement for me later. But first ！ we’re catching my husband in the act. He’s having an affair.” Nathan didn’t ask twice. He floored it straight to Derek’s firm. The place was locked up. Dark. Not a soul inside. A clerk from the convenience store next door leaned out: “Looking for someone, ma’am? It’s Mr. Gould’s anniversary today ！ he rented out the entire Hartley Estate. Everyone from the firm is there celebrating.” Nathan glanced at me, one brow raised. “Looks like you’ve got it wrong. Derek’s planning a surprise for you.” Looking at Nathan’s teasing expression, I couldn’t even manage a smile. “Today is not our anniversary.” His expression froze. My fist tightened. “Hartley Estate. Now.” — We pulled up to the gate. I pushed the car door open and made it two steps before security moved to block us. I stared through the lit windows at the silhouettes shifting inside the ballroom. My fist tightened further. “I need to find someone in there.” One of the guards let out a short, contemptuous laugh. “Got an invitation? No? Then get lost. Tonight is attorney Derek Gould and Miss Lara Sutton of Hartwell Group’s anniversary. Don’t come here starting trouble.” “Hartwell Group?” Nathan turned slightly, lowering his voice, something caught in his tone. “Isn’t that also！” Lara Sutton. The name snagged. I’d heard it before ！ Derek mentioned her constantly. Called her his buddy. I didn’t bother arguing with them. I reached back into the car and pulled out the Hartley Estate membership card. The second they saw it, all three of them straightened up. They stepped aside without a word, eyes trailing us as we walked through. I pushed open the ballroom doors. It was loud inside. Crowded. I spotted them immediately. Lara bent forward with one hand braced on the table, Derek standing close behind her, a balloon trapped between them. The crowd was pounding the tables, egging them on. “Didn’t Lara just say Derek’s favorite position is from behind? So the dare is ！ pop the balloon between them, no hands. Go!” Derek had always been so proper. In all our years of marriage, we’d barely been intimate ！ and every time I brought it up, he told me I was being inappropriate. I was sure he’d be furious. Instead, he reached forward, placed his hands on Lara’s hips, and guided her into a bend. Lara trapped the balloon between their bodies. Derek pressed himself flush against her, and the balloon buckled and warped under the pressure. The room got louder. Whistles cut through the air. Phones went up, recording everything. Something snapped in me completely. I shoved through the crowd and drove my foot into Lara hard. She went down with a sharp cry. Derek didn’t even look to see who it was. He was already crouching to pull her up, face twisted with fury as he raised his eyes ！ And then he saw me. He went still. “How are you back?”

Over in the corner, Lily had been playing with other kids. The moment the commotion started, she quietly slipped behind Lara. I stared at Derek’s hand still holding Lara’s arm. “An anniversary,” I said, my voice cold. “With another woman. Derek, what exactly do you think I am?” The room went dead silent. People exchanged glances. Someone whispered: “Wait ！ who’s the other woman here?” Another: “Gould’s really out here like this?” The murmurs rippled through the room, and something shifted uncomfortably across Derek’s face. Lara looked up at Derek like the whole world had just wronged her. “Derek…” He seemed to make a decision. He looked at me and his voice went hard: “Are you done? I’ve told you ！ we’re over. Stop showing up and making scenes.” I stared at him. “When did we end?” “Stop playing dumb!” His voice cracked upward. “You’re the one who said it was over! I have a wife now, a family ！ why won’t you leave me alone?” I pointed at Lara. Then at myself. A laugh rose in my chest ！ the kind that isn’t funny. “Derek. Look at my face. Tell me who I am. Tell me who Lily’s mother is.” Nathan stepped forward. “You’ve got this wrong ！ Chloe is still your wife！” “Who the hell are you?” Derek cut him off. “This is between me and Chloe Quinn. Stay out of it.” He turned back to me, impatient. “Chloe, I’m telling you ！ walk away. Don’t embarrass yourself. My wife Lara is Nathan Rhodes’ own prot└g└e and the daughter of Hartwell Group. You cannot touch her.” Nathan went very still. I looked at him. He looked at me. He shook his head slowly. The whispers sharpened around us. Eyes shifted toward me with something ugly in them. “So she’s the ex who won’t let go…” “She seemed so put-together. How does someone have that little self-respect?” “Poor guy. Having to deal with someone like her still chasing after him…” Lara moved in at exactly the right moment, draping an arm around Derek’s shoulder, positioning herself between us like she was shielding him. “Lady, Derek has already told you. He wants nothing to do with you.” She turned to the room, her voice dropping into something soft and aggrieved. “The past is the past. Derek and I have a child, a home. Please stop disrupting what we have.” I stared at the two of them, rage burning straight through me. I closed the distance in one step and slapped her across the face. The crack rang through the entire ballroom. Every person in the room went rigid. Lara pressed her hand to her cheek and turned to Derek, her eyes filling on cue. “Derek!” Derek’s face changed instantly. “Hold her down!” Two guards in black suits exploded from the corners of the ballroom, seizing me by both arms and forcing me to the ground. My knees cracked against the hard marble floor and I hissed through my teeth at the impact. “Have you lost your mind?” I thrashed against their grip, screaming up at him. “I am your wife! You’re doing this for her?” Derek said nothing. His eyes had gone red. He turned, grabbed a wooden chair from the nearest table, raised it above his head, and brought it down across my back with everything he had. The pain tore a muffled cry from my throat. My back blazed. He wasn’t done. He stepped forward and drove his dress shoe into my side ！ once, again, again. Nathan fought his way through and lunged to intervene. Another guard slammed him to the ground before he could reach me. “Derek Gould, stop it! She is your wife!” Nathan’s voice tore from the floor. Derek kicked harder. Then I coughed, and tasted blood ！ and caught a flash of movement as Lily came sprinting through the crowd toward me. “Don’t you dare hurt my mom!”

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I was the real son of the Carter family. But my family chose the fake one. April Fool’s Day. To make the fake one happy, my fianc¨¦e and sister turned me into their plaything. the fake one ripped my clothes to shreds. Used a marker to write “TRASH” across my face. When I didn’t react, he kicked me straight into the septic tank. When they fished me out, a crowd stood around with phones raised. Mocking laughter pierced my ears. My sister stayed a hundred feet away, covering her nose in disgust. She wouldn’t come closer. the fake one’s smile was smug. “Ethan, happy April Fool’s. You played along great.” My fianc¨¦e stepped in front of him, her tone dismissive. “It’s just a joke. Don’t take it personally.” She gestured to someone. They blasted me with a pressure hose. I got knocked flat. Freezing. Body turning purple. But I didn’t beg for mercy. Overnight, the video of me naked went viral in our circle. My sister hated me for dragging the fake one’s reputation down. She threw me out. My fianc¨¦e publicly canceled the engagement. “The Astor family can’t have a man with such a stain on him.” I nodded to everything. Didn’t argue. They thought I was faking composure. They didn’t know my mission had only three days left. These people? I felt dirty just looking at them. … In the courtyard, Dad swung his whip. Each lash tore into my flesh. “Shameless! Filthy!” I didn’t explain. Just endured silently. Fighting back only made the beating worse. A few days after being brought back to this house, Ryan¡ªthe fake son¡ªaccused me of stealing his watch. Mom and Dad ransacked my room. My sister Clara stripped me in front of everyone. They found nothing. I thought they’d apologize. Instead, Clara slapped a tooth out of my mouth. “You must’ve sold Ryan’s watch! Where’s the money!” My room was closet-sized. I didn’t have a single bank card. I tried to explain. She hit me harder. Called me unrepentant. I huddled in the corner. Got kicked until I coughed blood. Ryan suddenly gasped. “Found it.” The diamond-studded watch gleamed in the sunlight. All I felt was a stabbing pain in my eyes. I looked at Clara. No guilt on her face. Just a flat response. “Just a misunderstanding. Don’t worry about it.” “I’m Ryan’s sister. I trust him unconditionally.” Clara knew she was Ryan’s sister. But she forgot I was her actual brother. In the courtyard, Dad’s whip kept falling. Blood streaked my body. Clara stood by. Didn’t say a word in my defense. She was the one who let Ryan humiliate me. Let him take naked photos of me. But she blamed me for ruining Ryan’s reputation and threw my few belongings out the door. She wanted me gone. I agreed. But Dad roared. “You think you’re leaving? Want to embarrass us more?” He ordered the whip. Made them execute family discipline on me. Two hours later, Mom stopped him with a frown. “Enough. Make him bang his head on the floor 99 times. Write a confession. Then we’re done.” Dad threw down the whip, annoyed. “You spoil him too much!” Spoil? I found that funny. Mom’s “bang head” meant smashing my head into the ground hard enough to make a sound. If it didn’t echo, it didn’t count. The confession? Had to be written in blood. Less than ten thousand words? Not sincere enough. They’d make me rewrite it. I said nothing. Banged until my forehead bled. They splashed cold water on me to wake me up. I kept going. Wrote twenty thousand words in blood. Every word dripping with humiliation. Crushed into the dirt. I remembered every insult clearly. Waiting for the day I’d collect what they owed me with interest. I thought that would be enough. Ryan covered his nose and stepped back. “Clara, it’s not that I won’t let Ethan inside. It’s just… he stinks.” Clara ruffled his hair affectionately. Shot me a sideways glance. “You don’t deserve the servants’ quarters. Go stay with Goliath.” Goliath was Ryan’s python. And I was terrified of snakes. I remembered the day the cops first brought me home. Ryan looked disgusted back then too. But Clara didn’t make me sleep in the snake pit that day. She just made me stay in the dog cage. The pet dog’s cage was bigger than the servants’ room I got later. When Ryan didn’t give orders, the dog didn’t bite me. I could barely get some sleep. The snake pit? No way I’d survive. I fell to my knees in front of Mom and Dad, begging. “Please, I know I stink. I can leave the Carter estate. I can sleep in the dog cage. Just don’t make me go to the snake pit.” A flicker of emotion crossed Dad’s face. He was about to speak. Clara grabbed the back of my neck. “Ethan, stop playing the victim!” “If it weren’t for you, would the Carter family be a laughingstock? You should be grateful you have anywhere to sleep!” She dragged me toward the snake pit. I looked back at Dad. He looked away. The stench from the pit nearly knocked me out. A forked tongue flicked against my face. Just as I closed my eyes in despair, the system’s cold mechanical voice echoed in my mind. “Time until Host’s mission completion: two days remaining.”

I suddenly calmed down. Slowed my breathing. Two days left. I couldn’t give up. Three years ago, Ryan got a stomachache after dinner. Eyes red, he accused me of spiking his food. Before I could react, Clara pried my mouth open and forced an entire bottle of laxatives down my throat. The pain left me unconscious on the bathroom floor. No one checked on me. The whole family went to the hospital with Ryan. On the verge of death, a mechanical voice rang in my head. “Host life value has reached zero. Forcibly binding Revenge System.” “Current Mission: Survive three years.” “Success: Pain Rebound. One hundred million dollar cash reward.” “Failure: Soul annihilation.” I didn’t understand what a system was back then. Thought it was a hallucination before death. But when I woke up on that bathroom floor and the pain was gone, I believed. The system gave me a second chance. I was eighteen. I started valuing my life. Became silent. Compliant. I recalled survival shows I’d seen on TV. Forced down my fear. Stayed perfectly still. The python slithered past me. Its touch cold and terrifying. Outside the glass enclosure, Ryan held my fianc¨¦e’s hand. That smirk on his face. “Lucy, your fianc¨¦’s dirty, so he got tossed in the snake pit.” “Does it hurt your feelings?” Lucy’s eyes barely flicked over me. “Stop talking nonsense. I don’t have a fianc¨¦. That engagement has been canceled.” Even now, my heart twisted painfully. Lucy was different from the Carter family. She was my childhood friend from the orphanage. When she first came to the orphanage, her leg had been broken. No one wanted to adopt her. I pretended to be dumb. Stayed behind to keep her company. Her leg made it hard to walk. I fought for food for her. Stood up for her. One winter, some older kids stole her crutch to burn as firewood. I threw myself in front of her. They hung me upside down from a tree. Packed snowballs hard as rocks and used me as target practice. They broke my nose. Blood splattered everywhere. Lucy held my frozen body and cried all night. She said when she grew up, she’d protect me. I laughed in my haze. Thought she meant it. Later, when the cops brought me back to the Carter family, the first thing I did was help Lucy find her family. Turned out she was an illegitimate daughter. The Astor family had thrown her away on purpose. To help her return home, I proposed a marriage alliance. Clara called me pathetic. Said I’d just gotten back and was already chasing women. I knelt in the courtyard for seven days. No food. No water. My knees bled through the scabs. In exchange for a marriage contract. It wasn’t that the Astor family was bad. Mom and Dad just wanted me to marry better. To be a stepping stone for Ryan’s rise. The day I went to pick Lucy up from the orphanage, her eyes were red. She hugged me tight. Swore to the God. “Ethan, once I’m stable in the Astor family, I’ll marry you!” But she never married me. She personally tore up our marriage contract. Threw me to Ryan to humiliate. When did it change? Maybe the first time Ryan put his arm around her shoulders. He was stronger than me. More outgoing. Better at making people happy. He’d put his arm around Lucy’s shoulder and say, “Lucy, your engagement to Ethan was forced on you, right?” Lucy didn’t deny it. Maybe it was that business dinner when I drank myself to a bleeding ulcer trying to shield her from toasts. Collapsed on the floor, couldn’t get up. Lucy frowned. “Ethan, you’re so embarrassing.” I brought up marriage. Brought up rings. A wedding. She got impatient. Plucked a weed from the roadside and wrapped it around my finger a few times. Then turned around and dropped a fortune on a luxury watch for Ryan. Personally picked out the style. I asked her, “Lucy, do you remember what you said back at the orphanage?” She laughed. That laugh was mocking in a way I’d never seen before. “Ethan, you drag up the orphanage every single day. Aren’t you tired?” “Yeah, you helped me. But you’ve used that favor to tie me down for years. Isn’t that enough?” I tied her down? I shattered my knees kneeling. Went on a hunger strike. Fought like hell to get her a future. But she said, “Ethan, stop pretending. You wanted this marriage because you’re the least favored son in the Carter family.” “Couldn’t find a wife, so you latched onto me?” “That desperate to get married? That starved for a woman?” In that moment, something inside me shattered. Ryan’s laughter pulled me back from the memory. “Lucy, don’t be so heartless. Ethan was your fianc¨¦ for years.” Lucy sneered. “Fianc¨¦? A freeloader like him? As if.” I took a deep breath. Silently asked the system. “Will betrayal get reflected back too?”

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“Chloe, keep an eye out for me. I’m going to shift.” “Spending all day with male wolves, suppressing my pheromones, my wolf is going crazy.” I suddenly open my eyes and hear Selena say the same words as in my past life. In my past life, I followed Princess Selene, disguised as a man wolf, into Lycan King’s Academy. On one night of the full moon, Selene was discovered when she secretly shift into her wolf form. According to werewolf law, a female wolf entering Lycan King’s Academy must be punished. But this time, I don’t want to take the blame for Selena like I did in my past life. And I don’t want to provoke Rayne again just to stay alive. In my past life, after passing the academy’s tests, Selena fulfilled her dream of becoming a King’s warrior, and the moment she returned home, she put on a dress. That was when Rayne finally learnt that Selena was a female wolf. He resented me for taking Selena’s place, saying that if not for me, the one he would have marked should have been Selena. “I train with Selena in the academy for three years. We work perfectly together. We should have been mates.” “If there is another life, I don’t want to meet you again.” Even Selena regretted letting me take her place back then. That’s true. How can anyone live a whole life without regrets? I have mine too. Seeing that she is about to shift, I grab her wrist and press it down. “What about another day? This spot isn’t hidden enough. If we get caught, it’ll be trouble.” That is exactly what happens in my past life. Not long after Selena shifted, her scent was picked up by the patrolling wolves. Even though they didn’t see her face clearly, the news that a female wolf has slipped into the academy spreads. Selena forced me to take the blame. “Chloe, I’m begging you. I haven’t passed the tests yet. I can’t be exposed as a female at a time like this.” I was an Omega. When I was nine, I was attacked by Rogues, and Selena’s mother saved me. From that day on, I became Selena’s servant, bound to her by a Blood Bond. Selena was the princess of the Black Moon Pack, yet she always wanted to enter the Lycan King’s Army like a male wolf and became a warrior. So three years ago, I accompanied her to the Academy, disguised as a male wolf. As long as wolves passed the academy’s tests, they can become warriors. But I didn’t want to die either. So I went to Rayne, the youngest commander in the academy, and begged him for help. Just to stay alive, I even took off my robe to please him. The academy was full of male wolves. The moment he catched my scent, something dark stirred in his eyes. He dragged me onto the bed, and the restraint he has held back for so long collapses in that instant. I didn’t know how Rayne handled the situation, but from that day on, I stayed in his room. Later, Rayne and Selena passed the tests together and became King’s warriors. On the day we left the academy, Rayne promised that he would take me as his mate. But what I got instead was at the Lycan King’s banquet, Rayne stared at Selena in her dress, completely lost. When he heard Selena said what happened in the academy, he crushed his wine glass with his bare hand. I went to him and asked if he would still mark me as his mate. He looked at my face and said, “I keep my word.” He marked me as his mate as promised, but on the night of our Mating Ceremony, he left me behind and went off to drown himself in drink. That was when I finally understood. He resented me for taking Selena’s place. He said that if not for me, the one he would have marked should have been Selena. From that day on, he never stepped into my room again. Later, Selena became Prince Theron’s mate. But not long after, Prince Theron failed in his bid for the Lycan heir, and Selena was dragged down with him. On the day she was exiled from the pack, I went to see her off. The way she looked at me was full of hatred. “You are just an Omega. What gives you the right to live better than me?” “I regret it. If I had known, back in the academy, I would never have let you take my place.” She suddenly pulled out a knife and stabbed it into my heart. I could have dodged, but I couldn’t, because I was filled with regret. Before I closed my eyes, I saw Rayne standing beside me, watching me, motionless.

Selena doesn’t listen to me. Within seconds, she completes the shift. Strangely, until she turns back into human form, none of the patrolling wolves show up. Could it be that Rayne is reborn too? With a heavy mind, I return to my room. Students like us all sleep in shared dorms. Selena and I are not assigned together. She only comes to me when she needs something. That day, I wait from noon until sunset, and still, there is no news in the academy about a female wolf sneaking in. If Rayne is reborn as well, he will definitely find a way to protect Selena. Now I can do what I want to do. Lost in thought, I suddenly feel two pieces of dried meat tossed into my arms. I look up, and Lucian is staring at me, his gaze intense. “You didn’t come to eat. I thought it was like before again. You scared me.” “Like before?” I don’t quite understand what he means. Lucian raises a brow and lies down beside me. “It’s nothing. Just eat. Going to sleep hungry doesn’t feel good.” Lucian is a friend I meet in the academy. When I first arrive, maybe because I am small and good-looking, everyone wants to sleep next to me. I am terrified and don’t know what to do. After all, I am a female wolf, and on both sides of me are male wolves. If this goes on, sooner or later I will be exposed. In the end, it is Lucian who drives those male wolves away with his fists and moves me to the spot at the very edge. In these three years, as long as he is around, no one dares to come close again. If I have to choose a mate, I would rather choose someone like him. I don’t need him to be powerful. I just want him to care for me and love me. I chew on the dried meat in my hand and see that Lucian has already closed his eyes. He looks no worse than Rayne. His features are sharp and defined, his build tall and strong. When he doesn’t smile, there is a natural edge to him that keeps others at a distance. If he had a better background, would have become a King’s warrior long ago. It’s a pity… in my past life, he was killed by Rogues.

That night, I barely sleep at all. After that, Selena comes to see me a few times. She says Rayne suddenly arranges a private room for her, but to avoid suspicion, she doesn’t plan to let me stay with her. “Chloe, just hold on a little longer. Once the tests are over, I’ll take you back and pick a good mate for you.” From her words, I am certain that Rayne is reborn too. “I’m your Omega. Whatever you say, I’ll do.” I lower my gaze. In this life, I don’t want to get involved in anything between her and Rayne ever again. Selena adds, “In a few days, I’ll follow Rayne to infiltrate the Rogue army. If it works, I’ll pass the tests early, and the whole academy will know my name.” “Three years… I’ve finally waited for this day.” My heart tightens all of a sudden. Right. This is the day. To make sure Rayne’s mission succeeds, Lucian went alone to lure the Rogues away. In the end, outnumbered, he died in battle. In my past life, when I heard the news, I was washing clothes for Rayne. When he came back and saw me in tears, he was clearly displeased. “I come back after passing the tests, and you were crying?” I didn’t say a word. I just felt like this world was unfair. We are like side characters in a story. From the very beginning, our fate is in someone else’s hands. Even when we die, no one cares. But I don’t want to live like this anymore. I find Lucian and try to get him to come up with an excuse, to not follow Rayne in the attack on the Rogues. He looks at me, lifts a hand to ruffle my hair, and a smile curves on his lips. “Chloe, I’m going to become the King’s warrior. How can I run from a fight?” My eyes sting as I say, word by word, “Then what if… you die?” Lucian answers me with words that hit like thunder. “I fight for the pack. I die with no regrets.” Seeing that I can’t change his mind, I decide to go with him. When I first enter the academy, I am too weak, so I am assigned to learn cooking. In these three years, I have never fought an enemy. But after Lucian dies in my past life, I replay his escape route countless times. I am sure I can save him.

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I clawed my way through ninety-nine rounds of the Marchetti family’s death trials to become his bride — and in the hundredth, my fiancé put a bullet in my chest to crown someone else. They call it the Queen’s Gauntlet. Every time Dante Marchetti collects ten girls, he runs an elimination. Whoever survives moves on. Whoever wins all one hundred rounds becomes his wife. I’m the one who made it to ninety-nine. I’m tough enough. I played every sick game he threw at me without making a sound. He started looking at me differently — something close to awe. He paraded me through the Five Families, made every soldier and capo call me Madonna. I was about to win it all. Then, twenty minutes before the final round, I see him outside the private room — pressing Anya Rossi against the wall, kissing her like she’s oxygen. “Fifth chamber’s the live round.” “Got it.” My heart seizes. Something invisible wraps around it and squeezes until I can’t breathe. But I don’t get time to think. The game has already started. I watch Anya draw the rigged order — second shooter. My stomach drops through the floor. If I keep playing, I lose. That’s a certainty. I take a slow breath and look up into Dante’s calm, unreadable eyes. “Wren-bird.” He swirls the whiskey in his glass, voice dripping with warmth and adoration. “Still want to play? You know I’d never let you lose a game like this.” The room erupts. Whistles. Catcalls. The made men lounge around the table, trading looks between him and me, voices thick with amusement. “Boss always favors his Madonna. This round’s pointless.” “New girl thinks she can challenge the Madonna? She doesn’t even know who Dante’s heart belongs to.” “Be smart, sweetheart. Fold now and you walk away with your dignity.” Across from me, Anya is shaking head to toe — but she sets her jaw. “I’m not folding. I’m playing.” I catch it. That flicker in Dante’s eyes. Admiration. “Interesting.” His lips curl into a lazy smile, and he turns to me. “Then let’s make it quick, Wren-bird. I’ve got something new for us tonight.” Disgusting. He’s already rigged this for her. He’s already chosen. And he’s still putting on this devoted-lover act for me. My chest goes numb. Ice-cold. I lift my chin and meet his gaze. “Let’s start.” I want to see it. I want to see if this man — the one who keeps swearing he’ll never let me lose — actually has the stomach to watch me take the fall. The revolver hits the table. The room goes quiet. I draw first slot. I pick up the gun, press the muzzle against my own chest, and pull the trigger. Click. Empty. The room exhales. Someone laughs. Bets start flying. Dante’s eyes soften, just barely. “Wren-bird. Don’t worry. I’ll always bet on you.” Anya’s turn. Her hand trembles — prettily, perfectly — and she pulls. Click. My turn again. Third chamber. Still empty. But my heart is hammering now, because I heard what he said. Fifth chamber. Fifth. That’s mine. My whole body starts to shake. My eyes burn. My vision blurs. The slip that gave me first shot — he arranged that too. He set me up to take the bullet. Anya fires the fourth — knowing she’s safe — and lets out a delicate little whimper of fear. The men jeer. “Just quit, sweetheart! Get on your knees and kiss the Madonna’s ring — the Boss might let you walk!” “Kid, these rounds aren’t real bullets, but they still hurt like hell!” Anya doesn’t back down. She slides the gun across to me. My heart is in my throat. I stare at Dante. Waiting. Stop this. Stop this right now. He just watches. There’s even a faint smile on his lips. He doesn’t lift a finger. Seconds drag. His brow creases, just slightly. “Wren-bird. Don’t be scared. The winner is always going to be you.” My mouth twists — bitter, broken. I raise the gun to my chest with trembling hands. BANG. The round slams into me. Specialty rubber — not lethal — but the pain explodes white-hot through my ribs and I can’t breathe, I can’t — Anya screams. “Oh God — I’m so sorry — I didn’t know it would be like this —” Every face in the room goes pale. They all turn to Dante. The rule is simple. Whoever takes the bullet loses. The winner becomes his bride. “Boss, this —” Dante rises. Slowly. He looks down at Anya, voice glacial. “It’s fine. A loss is a loss.” Then he bends, scoops the trembling girl into his arms, and lifts her clean off the floor. His movements are steady, absolute. His gaze sweeps the room. His voice cuts like a blade. “Wren. You lost. I’m disappointed. But the only Queen in my heart is you.” In his arms, Anya flinches — then shoots me a look of pure triumph. A sharp pain stabs through my chest. My lips curve into something cold. He carries her toward the door. Steady. Certain. He doesn’t look back at me. Not once.

The second his back disappears through the door, my tears finally break. This game was never fair. Whoever he wants wins. That’s all it ever was. I wipe my face pick up the wine glass on the table and drain every last drop. Outside, I press my hand against the burning ache in my chest and dial a number with shaking fingers. “You wanted to get married. The answer’s yes. Seven days. I’ll be there.” Back at the penthouse, I swallow four painkillers. Ninety-nine rounds have trained my body to handle pain. But tonight, for reasons I can’t name, everything hurts worse than it ever has. I stare at the photograph on the wall — the one that appeared just weeks ago. Our engagement portrait. Me in white silk, him in black, his hand resting low on my waist. He took me to shoot it after I cleared round ninety-nine. I’d laughed and asked if that was cheating his own game. He scoffed. “My game. My rules. And you’re the only reason I ever break them.” Now he’s broken them for someone else. And he stood there watching me take a bullet like a fool. He doesn’t come home that night. I see everything in the videos Anya sends me. Dante has her pressed up against every surface of his most lavish penthouse. Their marks are everywhere — the walls, the sheets, the floors. The rare South Pacific black pearl he flew halfway across the world to buy for me last month — it’s caught between his teeth now, dragging slowly over her skin while she breaks, screaming his name. His face — raw, savage, consumed with want , is something I’ve never seen. Not once. Not for me. Miss Bellamy, you can see how addicted he is to me. Be smart and walk away. I stare at the message until my fingertips go white. I will not let myself cry again. The night I met Dante Marchetti, my grandmother was dying. Heart failure. The hospital was going to discharge her because I couldn’t pay. I was twenty-two, broke, and out of options. He walked into that waiting room like the angel of death in a five-thousand-dollar suit. Paid Gran’s bill in cash. Then he handed me a black card — an invitation. He looked at me the way a wolf looks at a rabbit. Smiling. “It’s just a game, sweetheart. Play it well, and everybody wins.” Even outside the Five Families, you heard the stories. Dante Marchetti was twisted. Years ago, the woman he loved sold him out to a rival. He never trusted love again. He built the Queen’s Gauntlet to watch women tear each other apart for the chance to sit beside him — to prove how far they’d go, how low they’d crawl. I took the card anyway. I needed the money. I needed Gran alive. Inside the game he called himself the King. He sat on a black leather throne and watched women bleed for his crown. I clenched my teeth and survived ninety-nine rounds. Bungee jumps with frayed cords. A sealed coffin with a live python. Seven minutes underwater without air. Live cockroaches shoved into my mouth. Every trial that made other women scream and shatter — I took in silence. One round was a skydive. My competitor slashed my arm with a blade and ripped the only parachute off my back. The plane was over open ocean. I was bleeding, falling soon either way. The earpiece crackled, and Dante’s amused voice came through. “You’ve won forty-some rounds, Wren-bird. Didn’t think you’d end up here. Any last words?” I closed my eyes. “Wire Gran’s medical bills before they cut her off.” His low laugh filled my ear. I jumped. They pulled me out of the Atlantic. I woke up in the ICU. Later, he came to my room. His eyes were hollow. “That round’s yours. I changed the rule mid-game — the winner is whoever’s more reckless.” A bitter, self-mocking smile. “You want out? A hundred million. Walk away clean. Right now.” He looked, for the first time, lonely. Something inside me tore open. I didn’t answer. I just reached up and pulled him into my arms. His face changed in a heartbeat — wild, unguarded joy. He cupped the back of my head and kissed me like a drowning man. “Wren. You’re mine now. From this second on. I’ll give you everything.” He bought me a brownstone. Ten percent of the family’s legitimate holdings, in my name. He walked me into every Family event with his hand at the small of my back and made every soldier and capo kiss my ring and call me Madonna. When the woman who’d betrayed him years ago crawled back into a banquet — weeping at his feet, humiliating me in front of the room, begging him to take her back — he didn’t hesitate. He grabbed a wine bottle and cracked it across her skull. His men dragged her out. She was taken to the docks and never seen again. He stood there with blood on his cuffs and said: “Anyone else want to insult my Queen? Step up.” He spoiled me so completely that everyone believed it. Every capo. Every heir. Every woman watching from the sidelines. Even me. I believed I was the one. The special one. The woman who could make Dante Marchetti believe in love again. Until tonight. Until I finally understood — it was never anything but my own delusion.

I sit alone in the dark penthouse all night, phone off. At dawn, the lock turns. Dante walks in. His suit reeks of someone else’s perfume. The bite marks on his throat are obscene. He sees me frozen on the couch and pauses — then drags a hand through his hair, irritated. “Wren. Don’t tell me you sat here all night waiting for me.” My voice comes out raw. “Do you want to shower?” He stiffens. He takes in my white face, my bloodshot eyes, and his brow creases. He tosses his jacket on the chair. But there’s a flicker of something pleased behind his eyes. He walks over and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, gentle. “I know. You’re upset because you lost.” “The rule is the rule, baby. Hundredth round. Anya won. By rights, I should be marrying her.” He pauses, pulls a pink diamond ring from his pocket — easily worth a million — and presses a slow kiss to my throat. “But you’re mine. So I’m giving you one more chance. Another round. Win back your crown. That’s a privilege I don’t give anyone else.” “So next time, sweetheart — win.” Win. The word is so absurd I almost laugh. I had a fifty-fifty shot. He took the crown off my head with his own hands and placed it on Anya. The rules were written in black and white — the hundredth-round winner becomes his bride. Anya won. This pink diamond is nothing but a bone he’s tossing me. Something shifts in his eyes — a glint of challenge. His lips curl. “What’s wrong, Wren-bird? Not happy? You used to fight like a wildcat for me.” He’s so certain I’ll cry. So certain I’ll scream and beg, just like every woman before me. I just lift my eyes. My voice is flat. Like I’m talking about someone else’s life. “No. I don’t care.” “Dante. As of right now, I’m out of the game.” The smile freezes on his mouth. The playful warmth in his eyes stays — but underneath, something murderous flickers. “You quit? Say that again.” I hold his gaze. Steady. “Dante. Your game. I’m done playing it.” “I’m leaving you. I won’t make a scene. You can have Anya, with my blessing.” His breath catches. His hands snap to my arms — and right then, his phone buzzes in his pocket. He answers. Whatever they tell him turns his face white with rage. “If you so much as touch her, I will end every last one of you!” He hangs up. His grip locks around my wrist — hard enough to grind bone. “Ow — Dante, what are you —” “In the car. Now.” His voice is ice. “Look what you’ve done.” He drags me out. I stumble, nearly fall. He shoves me into the back seat without a word. He drives like a man possessed. Jaw locked. Eyes dead ahead. He doesn’t explain a thing. The car stops at an abandoned warehouse by the river. Inside, Anya is on the concrete floor. Hands bound behind her back. Blood at the corner of her mouth. Dante crosses the room in three strides. He cuts her loose and pulls her against his chest. His eyes are red. Red. “Anya. Baby. Don’t be scared. I won’t let anything happen to you.” She sobs into his shirt — then lifts her head and looks at me with wide, frightened eyes. “Miss Bellamy — if you don’t want me near him, I’ll leave, I’ll disappear — but why would you have someone beat me…” I take a slow breath. I look only at Dante. “Dante. I didn’t do this. Do you believe me?” He scoops Anya up, bridal style, shielding her completely. And those narrow, cold eyes turn on me with undisguised disgust. “She’s an orphan! She doesn’t make enemies. Who else would touch her — except the woman who’s jealous she lost?” “Lose with grace, Wren. The second you start playing dirty, you’re the one who can’t handle the game.” I clench my fists so hard my nails break skin. “Dante. I told you. It wasn’t me.” “Dante, it’s okay,” Anya whimpers, voice barely a breath. “I don’t blame Wren. She just… she loves you too much.” He laughs — short, cold — and turns for the door with her in his arms. He snaps his fingers at the soldiers behind him. “The new Queen has been hurt by the old one. The old Queen needs to be punished.”

The four soldiers don’t hesitate. They wrench my arms behind my back. “Sir. How bad?” Dante glances at me, then bends his head toward Anya, voice silk. “The punishment is for my new Queen to decide.” Another knife in my chest. After every single elimination round, he handed me — me — the right to punish the loser. Every time, I just told them to leave. Walk away. Start over. I never made anyone bleed. Now Anya puts on her sweet, harmless face ， and her mouth curls into something cruel. “Dante, baby, I don’t really know your old rules. Just… whatever the punishment used to be, do that.” He gets it instantly. He turns to me, searching my face for something — anger, jealousy, anything. All he finds is dead silence. It enrages him. He pulls Anya tighter and forces the words through his teeth. “You heard the Queen.” They drag me into the compound. Down to the basement. They press me face-down on the stone floor and use a leather strap soaked in salt brine. On the other side of the wall, in the bedroom, he and Anya lose themselves in each other, all heat and desperation. Her moans and my screams braid together through the plaster, rising and breaking, until the whole house throbs with it. My back splits open. My heart breaks worse. I think of that day in the ICU. The kiss. The promise. He’d wanted to shut the Gauntlet down right then — pull me out, end it all. But the Family heirs had hundreds of millions riding on the bracket. The game wasn’t his alone anymore. They wouldn’t let him stop it before the final round. He’d held me in that hospital bed, eyes red, arms shaking, and whispered into my hair: “Wren. I promise. From now on, every single round — I will never let you lose.” And I believed him. I fought for him. I outsmarted, out-bled, out-survived every contender they threw at me. Some of them tried to kill me with rigged equipment. With knives. With poison. I won anyway — because I loved him. Every woman who cheated against me ended up exactly where I am right now. Pinned down. Beaten. Listening to him fuck the next one through the wall. It was always going to come to me eventually. He finally let me get hurt. They go all night. Somewhere near dawn, Dante steps out in a black silk robe. I hear his voice, distant, bored. “Call the family doctor. Patch her up. Don’t let her die.” Then I’m gone. I wake on the couch. His jacket is draped over me. The housekeeper’s face is blank, professional. “You’re awake. Mr. Marchetti took Miss Rossi to the victory dinner. He said to get yourself cleaned up and join them.” My voice is sandpaper. I grab my bag. “Tell him I can’t. My grandmother’s surgery is today. He knows. He arranged it.” He found Gran her donor heart himself , my prize for clearing round ninety-nine. Two soldiers grab me. “What are you — let go of me — I need to get to the hospital — Dante knows about Gran’s transplant today!” They don’t care. They yank a dress over my shredded back. They don’t let me bring my phone. They throw me in the SUV. I can’t breathe. He used to come with me to see Gran every single month. And today he’s at a champagne dinner celebrating a stolen crown for a girl he rigged the game to win. The ballroom is full of capos and their daughters. Dante is at the center with Anya glued to his side. I’m in a backless dress. The strap marks across my shoulder blades are visible to every person in the room. People whisper. His eyes darken. He walks Anya toward me, his hand on her hip. “Wren. Today is Anya’s coronation. As the former champion, you should congratulate her properly. You walked in empty-handed. Are you trying to humiliate her?” Anya bites her lip, all wounded innocence. “Maybe she just thinks I shouldn’t have won. After all — she had the first ninety-nine.” I cut her off. I look only at him. “I quit the game. I owe her nothing. Dante — Gran is in surgery right now. I’m leaving. Let me through.” Surprise flickers in his eyes. Then it ices over. “It’s a celebration. You bring up something this dark on purpose?” I press my hand against the ache in my chest. “What do I have to do for you to let me leave?” “What do you have to do?” His eyes glint. He kisses Anya in front of me, slow and deliberate. “Let my new Queen name the price.” She pretends to think. Then she grins. “Have Wren strip naked. Kneel in front of me. And bark like a dog. Three times.” The breath leaves my body. And then I hear him laugh ,soft, amused. “Done.”

I stare at him. “Dante. What if I refuse?” He laughs once. Cold. “Sweetheart. Since when do you get to say no to me?” He flicks a glance at the crowd behind him. That’s all it takes. They erupt on cue. “You heard the Madonna! On your knees,you filthy dog !” “You lost everything down to your panties , and you still think you can negotiate?” These are the same men who called me Madonna. Who bowed when I walked past. Who kissed my ring. Now they’ve turned like wolves, every last one of them falling in line behind Anya. My chest crushes inward. The pain goes numb. There’s a wall of soldiers behind me. I can’t run. Dante is unhinged enough that fighting will only drag this out longer — and Gran is on an operating table right now. Dignity is a luxury I can’t afford. “You’ll keep your word. After this, I leave.” I choke the words out. I undress. I get on my hands and knees on the polished marble. The room sucks in a breath. “Woof.” Laughter explodes around me. I feel tears slide down my face. “Woof.” Someone kicks me in the ribs — I don’t even see who. “Woof.” Dante’s voice cuts the room cold. “Enough.” “Get her out of my sight.” I grab my dress off the floor, yank it on crooked, and stumble out barefoot. It’s pouring outside. I don’t know when the rain started. I flag down a cab with shaking hands and tell him the hospital. Fast. Please. I sprint through the lobby. I burst into Gran’s room. She’s not there. I tear through the hallways like a madwoman — and then I see it. The OR doors swing open. A gurney rolls out. There’s a white sheet over the body, and one hand has slipped out from under the cloth. On her wrist is the silver bracelet I gave her for her seventieth birthday. Every drop of blood in my body turns to ice. “Gran!” I throw myself onto the gurney, screaming. The surgeon exhales, exhausted. “I’m so sorry. We did everything we could. She kept asking to see you one last time. We tried calling — we couldn’t get through. We had no choice but to proceed without you.” I don’t hear the rest. The room spins. I hit the floor. When I open my eyes, I’m in a hospital bed. A nurse adjusts my IV, her face tight with worry. “Honey, I know you just lost your grandmother and it’s awful. But you have to take care of yourself now. You’re pregnant.” The words hit me like a slap. “What?” My voice cracks. “I’m — I’m pregnant?” “Three months along. You really had no idea?” I press my hand against my belly. A tremor runs through me , something alive, something small, underneath my palm. I go cold all over. Once, I dreamed of this. Dante’s child. A home. A real life. It came now. Now. When the man I built my world around doesn’t love me anymore. The door opens. Dante walks in carrying half a cake on a plate. “Wren, you embarrassed me today.” His voice is flat with contempt. “Anya’s sweet. She thought you might be hungry. She saved you cake.” I look at the mangled thing on the plate — pawed at, half-eaten, barely recognizable. It’s not food. It’s a slap in the face. “You’re not even with your grandmother. You’re here, faking sick to get my attention?” “Get out!” I hurl the water glass at his head. He dodges. His eyes go pitch black. “Ungrateful. You’re not half the woman Anya is.” He slams the door behind him. I break apart. I sob until there’s nothing left inside me. For the next few days, Dante parades Anya across the city. Diamonds dripping from her throat and wrists. Yachts, rooftop parties, flashbulbs chasing them at every turn. Cameras everywhere. I bury Gran alone. The day we put her in the ground, the sky splits open and the rain doesn’t stop. While I’m standing graveside in the mud, Dante is at a charity gala downtown, presenting Anya with a flawless museum-grade diamond in front of the press. I go back to the penthouse. I pack one suitcase. I walk out. I rent a tiny studio across town. He calls. I pick up. “Where the hell are you?” “Dante. The game is over. We are nothing to each other.” He finds me the next day. He looks around my studio — the peeling paint, the narrow bed, the bare lightbulb — and his nose wrinkles like he smells garbage. “You’re living in this hole? Cute.” A mocking smile. “You’re playing hard to get.” “It’s none of your business. Get out.” His eyes flatten. He nods at the men behind him. They grab my arms before I can move. “Let’s go. Anya wants to take you somewhere fun.”

I fight. I lose. They drive me to a private estate outside the city. Underground, the owner keeps a fifteen-foot golden python in a steel-reinforced cage and charges the ultra-rich to watch it feed. Live prey. Invitation only. Anya is already there, draped in couture, champagne in hand. “Wren, sweetie — the feeding show tonight is so boring.” Inside the cage, the python is coiled around a slab of raw, bloody meat, jaw unhinged, swallowing it whole. She tilts her head, all innocence, but her smile has teeth. “You survived ninety-nine rounds of the Gauntlet. A little snake should be nothing for you, right? Dante, baby — I want to watch her tame it.” My blood turns to ice. Deep in my belly, something flutters — the baby. As if even he can sense what’s coming. “Are you insane? That gets people killed!” Dante looks at my white face. Something flickers — just for a second. Regret. Maybe mercy. He leans close. His breath stirs my hair. His voice is low, almost tender. “You know what I hate about you, Wren? You’re so goddamn stubborn. Just bend. Once. Ask me to save you ， beg me ， and I’ll rig the game so you win.” “Last chance. One more round. Beg me, and it’s yours.” I look back at him. My eyes are dead. My mouth curves into a smile so bitter it tastes like ash. “Dante. The biggest regret of my life is ever taking your invitation.” His face contorts. Anya jumps in, right on cue. “How can you be so ungrateful? Dante is giving you a chance! If I were you, I’d be on my knees crying! If you won’t play, it just proves you never loved him at all!” Murder flashes through Dante’s eyes. He shoves me — hard — and forces three words through clenched teeth. “Put her in.” Hands grab me. The cage door clangs shut behind me. The python’s head lifts. Its tongue flicks the air. It starts toward me. “Dante — please — let me out!” My scream rips through my throat. “I’m pregnant!” The crowd outside is roaring — drunk, wild, deafening. They can’t hear me. He can’t hear me. Dante squints, like he’s trying to read my lips. Anya hooks her arms around his neck and breathes into his ear. “Baby, she’s having so much fun in there. I’m jealous. Take me to the back room…” His Adam’s apple bobs. He scoops her up and walks away without looking back. The python coils around my legs. It bites — once, twice — then starts to constrict. I can’t breathe. My vision goes purple at the edges. I hear my own screams like they belong to someone far away. “Oh my God — the snake’s gone berserk —” “She’s bleeding — there’s so much blood — someone call 911!” I wake in a hospital bed. A tearing pain in my pelvis. I rip the sheet back. My belly is flat. The baby is gone. A scream rips out of me as it hits all at once—Gran is gone, and with this baby, the last of my family on this earth is gone with her. Why? Why would he do this? Why would he take the last thing I had? “No!” The door swings open. Dante walks in, flushed, with fresh marks on his throat. The evidence of what he was doing while I was dying. He glances at me. Mocking. Bored. “I heard you got your period. That’s why you’re in the hospital?” “Come on, Wren. Through ninety-nine rounds, even at your worst, you were never this dramatic.” I take a slow breath. I drag myself out of the bed. Pain screams through every nerve in my body. I cross the room and slap him across the face with everything I have. “Dante Marchetti — I hope you rot in hell.”

The wildness in my eyes makes him freeze. He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek. Something dark flickers behind his gaze. His hand snaps around my wrist. “I’ve been too easy on you lately, haven’t I?” His phone rings. His face changes instantly. “Anya — baby, hold on — I’m on my way, don’t be scared.” He looks at me, already halfway to the door. “Anya’s stomach hurts. I’m going to her. And that studio of yours — I already canceled the lease. Stay put.” He’s gone before I can speak. The door slams. I sit on the hospital bed for a long time. Staring at nothing. Then I pick up my phone. My fingers are shaking, but my voice is steady. “Before I come to you — help me stage one last performance.” “Make it convincing. I need him to believe I’m dead.” I hang up. A new message lights up my screen. Anya, curled against Dante’s chest, tracing circles on his collarbone with her fingertip: See, Wren? Even after you nearly died from a snake attack, all I have to do is say one word and he drops you to come running to me. He doesn’t love you. He never did. You almost lost your life for him and he still picks me every single time. You’re pathetic. I grip the phone until my knuckles go white. Tears hit the screen and blur the words. There are guards outside my door. I can’t run. I can only wait. Every time I close my eyes, the nightmares come. Ninety-nine rounds of hell. Dante’s cold, empty stare. Gran dying alone on an operating table, calling my name. The baby I never got to hold. The next day, Dante brings Anya to visit me. “Wren, sweetie, are you feeling better?” Anya pouts, all wounded innocence. “Dante really does care about you, you know. Even after everything, he still wants to give you a fair rematch.” “But if you won’t play… it just proves you don’t really love him. That you never wanted him at all.” I turn my head. I look at both of them. Calm. “Fine. I’ll play.” Dante’s eyes flash bright — just for a second. Anya stiffens. She wasn’t expecting that. Hatred ripples under her sweet face, but her voice stays sugar-soft. “Of course I want a fair fight. But this time, I set the rules.” Dante strokes her hair, indulgent. “Of course. You earned that right when you won the last round.” Where he can’t see, her mouth curves into something venomous. “Last time we played the gun, and you lost. That must have killed you.” She tilts her head, mock sympathy. “So this time — we play the gun again. Sound fair?” My expression doesn’t change. I nod. “Fine by me.” “Then it’s settled.” Her eyes are full of calculation, but her smile is radiant. “Dante, baby, let’s go set everything up. Let her rest.” Something tugs at Dante — a flicker of unease he can’t name. But before he can think, Anya hooks her arm through his and pulls him out the door. The next night. They drive me to a cliff above the open ocean. A small table. Two chairs. A black revolver in the center, its barrel gleaming cold under the moon. Anya and I sit on opposite sides. The soldiers lead us to our places. Dante’s Bentley rolls up behind us. He steps out, slow, deliberate, and settles into a leather throne his men have placed at the cliff’s edge. A soldier stands beside him holding a bottle of champagne. “After this round,” he says, voice low, eyes drifting between us, “I’ll announce my engagement to the winner. Right here. Right now.” “Begin.” Anya plays modest. “Wren, sweetie — I’ll let you roll for first shot. Fair and square. Odd number, you go first.” I don’t hesitate. I roll. Odd. First shot is mine. I hear Dante’s breath catch. His knuckles go white around the arm of the throne. That reaction tells me everything. The bullet is in an even chamber. He rigged it for her again. Anya’s face goes pale. “Wait — no — best two out of three!” I almost laugh. I let her have it. She rolls again — somehow, both times landing odd. She steals first shot back. “Looks like I go first after all.” Dante doesn’t intervene. His voice is flat. “Get on with it.” Anya gives him a slow, seductive smile. She picks up the gun, presses it to her own chest, and pulls the trigger. Click. The gun slides across to me. I pick it up. I weigh it in my palm for just a second — and a cold laugh escapes my lips. This isn’t the same prop from last time. It’s heavier. The balance is different. This gun is real. And the bullets inside it are real too.

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I am mated to the Beta triplets of my pack. Every night, I endure the desire of three men. Everyone in the pack knows I’ve been spoiled rotten by them. The best food, the best clothes, and I snap at them whenever I want. Because I am loved and cherished, I act without restraint. Until a healer named Iris arrives in the pack. Her previous pack was destroyed, and she comes to Silver Moon Pack with a pup. Unlike my spoiled and temperamental nature, she is gentle and radiant, and many male wolves are drawn to her. But she never depends on any of them. She raises her pup alone and lives her life with ease and strength. Slowly, my first mate Aiden begins to grow tired of how spoiled I am. When he leaves, the other two mates are furious for me. “Aiden, you were the one who chose to leave! Don’t you ever think of coming back to Selene!” But not long after, my second mate Damon leaves as well. I look at the only one left, Liam, and my nose stings. “Liam… do you think I have a bad temper too?” Liam pats my head. “Don’t overthink it. They’re the ones who are trash. They don’t know how to cherish you.” Until I see it with my own eyes. He shifts into wolf form and follows behind Iris, step by step, so humbly, so desperately, as if begging her to pet him. I turn and run. Stumbling all the way, I rush into my Alpha father’s house. “Father, let me go to the Northern Pack marriage alliance.” — “Selene, are you insane?!” My father snaps back to reality, eyes wide. “That’s the Northern Pack! Other she-wolves pray not to be chosen, and you want to send yourself there?!” My eyes are red as I clutch my clothes tightly. The Northern Pack lies at the far north of the werewolf world, a place of extreme cold, ruled by ice wolves. They are cursed by the Moon Goddess. Their she-wolves are born without wolf nature and cannot form mate bonds. To continue their bloodline, they must form marriage alliances with other packs every year. The Northern wolves are not only powerful, but also fiercely loyal to their mates. Yet no she-wolf willingly goes to that frozen wasteland. “Did they… do something again?!” my father’s voice turns cold. He stands up immediately, but I stop him. “Don’t go! Father, please don’t!” I rush forward to hold him down, shaking my head desperately. “Don’t stand up for me anymore…” When Aiden and Damon left, I had already cried and begged my father. Because of that, Iris nearly got expelled from the pack. She later moved farther and farther away, but they still never came back to me. Their cold eyes are still so clear in my mind that I tremble thinking about them. “Selene, stop using your privilege to bully people. Iris did nothing wrong, yet she almost got driven out because of you.” “Without your Alpha father, what are you worth?” “I can’t believe I ever liked a disgusting she-wolf like you.” That night, I held onto the only one left, Liam, and cried until I blacked out. But now, even he doesn’t want me anymore. In silence, my father lets out a heavy sigh. “Selene, you’re my only daughter. I don’t want you going somewhere that far.” “But I also can’t bear to see you suffer. Three days from now, there will be a draw. Think it over and come back to tell me, alright?” I leave my father’s room. At a glance, I see Liam waiting outside. He leans against the pillar, holding a small yellow flower, staring at it absentmindedly. I recognize that flower. He got it from Iris today, wagging his tail like a fool. When he sees me, he hides the flower and smiles softly. “Selene?” I wipe my eyes and walk straight past him without looking back. “Selene, where are you going?” I don’t answer. After a few more steps, I suddenly realize there is no sound behind me. I turn back abruptly. Liam has stopped at a distance far away from me. His brows are slightly furrowed as he carefully protects the small yellow flower in his hand, afraid it will be bent by the wind. Something in my chest tightens. I shout at him angrily, almost losing control. “Liam! Why aren’t you following me?!” My voice gets louder and louder. The surrounding wolves start to look over. But he only lifts his eyes slightly, his shadow stretched long under the setting sun. An unfamiliar panic rises in my chest. I stomp my foot and, gritting my teeth, start walking toward him. But the next second, I hear him say. “Selene, I won’t be able to walk you home anymore.” He turns and walks toward Iris’s house.

The house is left with only me. The fire in the fireplace is still burning, crackling softly Liam lit it early this morning. I reach out to add more wood, but a spark jumps out and burns my hand. My lips curl down in instinctive grievance. Only then do I realize no one is here to care about me anymore. My nails dig into my palm. I suddenly stand up and run outside. I stumble all the way, falling again and again, getting back up again and again. Until finally, I end up standing in front of that door, knocking in a mess. But the one who opens the door is not Liam. Aiden freezes when he sees me. His gaze falls on my injuries, his expression unreadable. “What are you doing here?” He is my first mate. When he was by my side, he always disliked how I ran around, afraid I would get hurt. He would frown and scold me for being reckless, but still silently follow behind me to clean up my mess. His words were never gentle when he lectured me. And yet I remember it too after every cold shoulder, he would quietly come to my bed. Wipe away the tears I stubbornly refused to show with his fingertips. Then, in the sound of my pretending-to-sleep breathing, he would leave clumsy, burning kisses. I lower my eyes and don’t look at him. Instead, I anxiously search inside. Aiden, ignored, unconsciously tightens his grip on the doorframe. He lets out a cold laugh and calls into the house. “Liam! Did you not even clean up your tail properly and now she’s come chasing you? What are you going to do if Iris finds out?” The wind of early winter slaps against my skin. I’m only wearing a thin dress, my face pale as I watch Liam walk out. His clothes are messy, his hair disheveled. On the side of his neck is a fresh bite mark. He glances impatiently at Aiden, then finally looks at me. A flicker of irritation crosses his eyes. Coldness spreads through my body. I take a step back instinctively. Then suddenly, a cloak is placed over my shoulders. I look up, only to see Aiden’s tight jawline. Liam walks up to me, still wearing that familiar gentle expression. For a moment, I almost think I saw wrong. “Selene? How did you end up like this?” I bite my lip. “Liam, I… I won’t throw tantrums anymore asking for berries from miles away. I won’t complain about the fur being too rough. I won’t bother you when you’re tired anymore…” “From now on, I only want you. I don’t want anyone else. Don’t leave me alone, okay?” My words come faster and faster, completely unaware of Aiden’s changing expression beside me. Liam listens, but his gaze keeps drifting to my bloodied knees. I unconsciously slip back into the spoiled habits I used to have with him. I even reach out to grab his hand. “You promised you would always stay with me! Liam, you can’t break your word! I—” But I grab nothing but air. Liam pulls his hand away. “It’s cold outside. Come in first, alright?”

The room is warm. I sit on a wooden chair lined with soft animal fur. Everything around me is neatly arranged. The wooden walls have been carefully sanded smooth, and the corners are stacked with enough firewood to last deep into winter. I think of my own room, cold at this very moment. After Aiden and Damon left, Liam did keep it maintained—but he is always distracted. The leak in the roof never seems properly fixed. Firewood is always only chopped when it is almost gone. When it gets too cold, I no longer dare to complain so openly like before. I only secretly press myself into Liam’s arms, afraid he might leave me too. Then suddenly, I hear low voices from the inner room. “What, are you softening up?” “Let me tell you, if you regret this, don’t even think about coming back here!” I freeze. Quickly, I turn slightly to listen. But then I hear Liam’s cold voice. “No. I’m just worried she’ll go crying to the Alpha again, or cause trouble for Iris.” “Don’t worry. She’s easy to pacify.” My mind goes completely blank. Aiden lets out a short laugh. Footsteps fade away. Someone crouches in front of me. Liam lowers his eyes and uses a cloth to slowly wipe the blood and dirt from my knees. His tone is still as gentle as I remember. “Selene, from now on… I will be Iris’s mate.” “You are the Alpha’s daughter. You can choose any outstanding male wolf you want in the pack.” Something flashes through his eyes, and he even smiles slightly. “Didn’t you say before… that you wanted to kick all three of us out and go find other she-wolves?” That was just words said in anger, wasn’t it? Why did it not matter before but now it suddenly becomes real? Tears blur my vision as I look at him, shaking my head again and again. “No…” Liam stares at the tears at the corner of my eyes, his expression darkening slightly. He reaches out slowly, wipes them away, and pats my head like he used to. Then, in silence, he stands up to get water and medicine. Suddenly Bang. Something heavy is thrown at me. I turn around and see Iris’s pup standing there, glaring at me with hatred. He lifts a hot water kettle high. “Bad woman! You bullied my mom! Get out!” I instinctively raise my arm to block it. But the movement makes the splashing water bounce back. A few drops of boiling water land on the pup’s exposed leg and hand. He freezes for a second. Then bursts into piercing, heartbreaking cries. At that moment, the wooden door is pushed open from outside. A blast of cold wind rushes in. A hand grips my throat. Damon’s green wolf-like eyes lock onto me, and he lets out a cold, furious laugh. “So you couldn’t bully Iris enough, and now you’re bullying her pup too?” “Selene… you really never disappoint.”

Damon’s departure was the most humiliating. Because of my complaints, Iris nearly got expelled from the pack. To protect her and her pup, Damon silently accepted a border patrol mission that was basically a death sentence. He traded his near-death experience just to keep Iris and the child in Silver Moon Pack. The last time he cut the mate bond with me, the way he looked at me was ice cold. “I was stupid,” he said. “The biggest regret of my life is ever chreshing you.” I didn’t understand. They were the ones who betrayed me first, yet they spoke as if I were the guilty one. I clutched his wrist, my strength slowly fading. Tears blurred my vision. When I looked up again, my eyes were empty. Damon’s pupils tightened. “Damon!” He froze, then quickly let go when he saw I was struggling to breathe. I fell hard onto the ground. Coughing, gasping, barely able to catch my breath. Liam rushed in right then. He was about to pull me into his arms when Iris opened the door from the inner room. In that instant, he pushed me away. I stumbled backward, pain shooting through my body. Aiden came out right after. He paused when he saw me on the ground, his expression unreadable, but he didn’t move. Damon glanced at Liam and raised a brow. “Didn’t you say you’d stay by Selene forever? Why are you here too?” Then he laughed, like he suddenly understood everything. “Oh… so even you’re tired of her now.” “What a coincidence. All of us ended up choosing the same mate, over and over again.” His eyes landed on me curled up on the ground, and he sneered. Liam said nothing. But he met my eyes. And then looked away. I felt like I forgot how to breathe. I froze completely. “Your arm… are you okay?” Iris suddenly spoke. Only then did everyone notice my forearm. It was bright red, blistered, the skin rising in painful patches. They all seemed to expect me to cry or lash out. But I didn’t. I slowly pulled myself up on my own. Then I looked at Iris in silence. Her expression was soft, almost kind. They said even in winter, she could grow rare herbs from barren ground. No wonder everyone in the pack liked her… except maybe me. Sensing the tension, Iris gently patted the pup in her arms. “Alex, say sorry to Aunt Selene, okay?” The child buried his face in her chest and refused to speak. Iris sighed helplessly and looked at me. “He’s still young. I’ll apologize for him. I have good burn medicine, I’ll go get it for you.” “No.” Everyone turned to look at me. “I want him to apologize.” Iris’s smile faded slightly. “He’s just a cub. Making him apologize now might be too much…” “Apologize.” “Selene!” Damon cut me off sharply and stepped in front of Iris and the cub, his face dark. “Why are you arguing with a child? Iris already apologized. Do you really need to make him cry?” Aiden didn’t speak, but his furrowed brows said everything. Even Liam shook his head slightly. The three men who once belonged to me now stood together, shielding another woman’s child. Iris gently tugged Damon’s sleeve. She lowered her head and whispered something to Alex. Finally, he turned around and muttered, “…Sorry.” It was reluctant. Muffled. Full of unwillingness. Even so, their expressions stayed grim. Iris looked at me apologetically. “Selene, he said sorry. The burn needs treatment. Let me help you.” She turned to get the medicine. But I suddenly felt cold. So cold I could barely stand. “No need.” I forced the words out. Before anyone could react, I pushed the door shut behind them and stumbled into the freezing wind outside.

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The Whitmore heir is cold. I am insufferable. He refuses to share a bed with me, so I spend entire nights reciting the legal obligations of a spouse at his closed door. He starts coming home past midnight just to avoid me. So I go crying to his parents. The elder Whitmores make him kneel and take thirty lashes with a belt. I’m about to intervene when the comment feed flickers across my vision: [Can this dumb-ass woman just fast-forward to her miserable end already? Can’t she see he doesn’t want her?!] [His body is reserved for OUR female lead!] [Let her keep acting out. The female lead already got hired as Callum’s personal assistant — Callum’s going to fall for her soon, and their kid will start calling him Mommy. [Then this idiot wife throws a fit all over town, calling our female lead a homewrecker. [Gets tossed out by Callum himself, ends up in a psychiatric facility, degraded and broken every single night. [Honestly, just thinking about it is satisfying!] My hand jerks. I nearly drop my glass. The elder Mrs. Whitmore raises the belt again. I lunge forward. The strike lands across my back instead. Through Callum’s stunned stare, I bite down on the pain: “It’s all a misunderstanding.” …… That one actually hurt like hell. I suck in a sharp breath. Callum looks at me like he’s never seen me before. The comments explode with question marks: [What is Madeleine Shaw doing? This idiot wife just took a hit FOR him?] [Please. Wasn’t it her tantrum that got Callum punished in the first place?] I try to stand. The movement pulls at my back and sends a white-hot bolt of pain through me. Callum reaches out and catches my arm. [Oh, I see it now — classic manipulation!] [She took one hit so he’d have to help her up. Now she gets to use it against him!] [What a disgusting woman. I want to reach through the screen and slap her.] [Callum took ten lashes. She took one. And somehow she’s made herself the victim. Nobody calculates like she does.] My hand goes stiff. I pull away from Callum’s grip and manage a thin smile: “I’m fine. It really is just a misunderstanding between Callum and me both.” Callum’s hand freezes mid-air. [Oh, the old push-pull. Worse than any cheater I’ve ever seen.] [It’s fine. Once he ends up institution-bound and broken, I’ll have reason to keep reading.] I nearly lose my footing. When I turn back, Callum is still watching me. His gaze is exactly what it’s always been — distant and untouchable. I was the one who swore I’d marry no one but him. He was the one who never had any interest in me. But… a psychiatric facility? Humiliated. Destroyed. By his hand? Callum… could he really become that cruel?

Back at the penthouse, I lie face-down on the bed while the housekeeper tends to my back. Callum comes home. His sleepwear hangs loose at the collar. Bandaging wrapped across his chest — from where they’d gotten to him before I arrived. [Oh my god, battle-worn Callum?! That silhouette. That ratio. I can’t breathe.] [Cover up! Don’t let that woman take advantage!] [Your body belongs to the female lead! Don’t let her near you!] Callum can’t see those comments. He sets a basin of water beside the bed. Kneels at the edge. Wrings out a warm cloth. My back wound means no shower — just a wipe-down. The comments nearly swamp my vision: [So THAT’S why she suddenly grew a conscience! Took a hit just to get him on his knees in front of her!] [One calculated move and now he has to clean her up out of guilt. Pathetic.] [Her schemes and her reputation are perfectly matched. Does she think about anything besides power plays?] [Hold on, girls — the female lead just joined Callum’s company as his personal assistant.] [Callum’s glacier is going to melt. He’s going to discover he can love someone. And then she’ll pay.] [Just wait — when she goes around calling our female lead a homewrecker, Callum will make her pay for it.] [The author said she ends up beaten to death by a hundred men in that facility. FINALLY. Now I can keep reading.] I pull my hand back from his. The cloth Callum was pressing against my knuckles hangs in the air. “Go do what you want,” I say. Callum frowns. “What would I go do?” “Work late. Sleep in the guest room. Isn’t that your favorite routine?” “Madeleine.” He drops the cloth back into the water. “What are you scheming now?” I look at him. He’s kneeling — technically the lower position — but the look he aims at me is pure contempt. He has always been like this. Cold. Self-contained. He only agreed to this marriage because my family once saved his, and even that was a concession he resented. And yet — in these eight years of marriage, I have never let him breathe. He pulls away, I report it. He snaps at me, I report it. He disappears for a night, I take it straight to his parents. I’ve used the title of “wife” like a weapon, marking territory everywhere. But… I never wanted to actually hurt him. And yet he would end up doing that to me— My eyes sting. Why? He is my husband. The father of my child. A few arguments between us, and I’d die at the hands of some other man, broken and unrecognizable. “Callum.” I sit up. “I signed the agreement.” He stiffens. The steward lays a document on the bed between us. The marital non-interference agreement. The one he drafted before the wedding. A paper marriage. No physical contact. No intimacy. It had triggered every stubborn nerve in my body. My husband. Why shouldn’t I touch him? “From now on, I won’t push you anymore. Do whatever you want.” Callum stares at me like he doesn’t recognize the language. I expect him to say something. Instead, the agreement tears — strip by strip — between his fingers. “Callum?” He drops the shreds into the wastebasket. “What good does it do now?” Before I can make sense of that, the comments ignite: [She didn’t sign it at the wedding, waited until after she’d already had her way with him and there’s a child involved, and NOW she wants non-interference? Hilarious.] [Not just an idiot — a dramatic idiot.] [Our clean, untouched Callum — ruined. Because of HER.] [It’s fine. Everything she taught him, our female lead gets to enjoy later.] [I’m blushing — STOP.] Something in my chest pulls tight. So according to that feed — not only would Leo stop calling me Mom. Everything I’d ever taught Callum would become some other woman’s reward. I breathe through it. Then: “If the marital agreement is too late — what about divorce papers?” Callum goes very still.

“You want to divorce me?” Callum’s voice drops. “Yes.” I meet his eyes. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” He looks away. He’d proposed it himself, at the start. Three years. After three years, we’d separate. I could walk away with half his assets — the Whitmore family’s acknowledgment of what my parents had sacrificed for them. Three years was also enough time to make it look dignified. I refused. Took it to his parents. That day, Callum got torn apart in front of everyone. I’d stood there with my arms crossed, watching, pleased with myself. He’d looked back at me then — expressionless. No grief. No anger. Now that I’m finally offering to let him go, that look has only gotten colder. “What are you actually trying to do?” “Callum. I mean it. You write the terms. “Sign it, and I walk out with nothing. Whatever you want.” Callum’s brow creases. Then — a slow, bitter curve of his lips. “Madeleine. Stop it.” He stands, picks up the basin, and carries it out. That night, he doesn’t come to our room. Same as always. He’d never come to me unless I cornered him into it. Good. I didn’t want to share a bed with someone who was going to destroy me. I didn’t sleep. Callum could let go — fine. But the comments said Leo would stop calling me Mom? The next morning, still half-asleep, I found Leo already waiting in the doorway. My rule. Every morning, say good morning to both parents. Who says my son is going to belong to someone else? Look at him — standing right there, perfectly on schedule. But when breakfast hit the table, he opened his mouth: “Did you find out about aunt Ellie?” I blinked. “If you’re going to divorce Daddy, why do you have to make Ellie look bad?” Who was Ellie. How had I made him look bad. The comments lost their minds: [Leo’s defending our female lead!] [He’s right — filing for divorce now makes it look like Ellie broke up the family. Like she’s the other woman!] [She’s so calculated. God, I want to reach through the screen.] [She can’t fool Callum or Leo though — they’ve already called her out!] [Go for it, Leo! She only cares about her pride — her own kid is her only weak spot!] I stared at him: “You knew about this?” “Dad told me everything. Dad said you’re manipulative.” My fist tightened. So that was why Callum had been so hostile last night. I looked at Leo carefully. “If your dad and I actually divorced — who would you go with?” [Does she even have to ask? Leo’s already calling the female lead Mommy at the office. She’s so behind.] I went cold. Leo’s eyes fixed on mine. “You… you’re sure about the divorce? No taking it back?” [Ha! Leo’s already planning his new life.] [She did this to herself.] My own son… really didn’t want me? I ignored the pain in my back and sat up straight. “Leo.” I reached for his hand. He stepped back. I tried for his sleeve. He pulled free. I’ve had high expectations for him, it’s true. But every book, every activity, every choice — I thought through carefully. For him. I’m someone who never sat still for crafts in my life, and yet I became a passable bracelet-maker just for this child. I reached for his wrist. The woven bracelet there. Not one I’d made. “Don’t touch that!” Leo yanked his arm back like I’d contaminated something, retreating to the doorway. [Ha! Leo’s protecting it — Ellie made that for him!] “Leo…” I stared at him. He scrunched his nose. “Mom said it’s precious.” Then he turned and ran. The comments dissolved into laughter: [Those two are so in love with the female lead it’s embarrassing.] [Ellie braided Leo’s bracelet. Callum told him not to ruin it. Madeleine’s crafts? Leo can’t even be bothered to wear them.] [Love and indifference really are that obvious. Good. Let her hurt. It means our female lead wins.] I curled my fingers into my palm. Swallowed everything down. Fine. Fine, Madeleine Shaw. You brought this on yourself. I picked up my phone. “Usual place. Nobody better be missing.”

The private room erupts the moment I walk in — a dozen men, all different types, surging toward me at once: “The queen is back!” I drop onto the couch. Immediately, half of them are around me — offering drinks, working out the knots in my shoulders. “You disappeared after the wedding. We thought you’d forgotten us.” “Speak for yourself. I cried the hardest when she settled down.” “Please. I still look at her pictures every day. You don’t even compare.” “Alright, alright.” I wave them quiet. “Where’s Ryan?” Ryan Mercer. My favorite, back when I was the worst kind of player. If Callum hadn’t appeared out of nowhere when he did — I honestly don’t know if Ryan and I would’ve ended up together. He hasn’t changed much. Still exactly my type. I’m about to stand when my phone buzzes. “Word is the legendary heartbreaker is back in circulation?” “Finally woke up, babe! You’ve got a whole room of men there, don’t you?” I smirk. “Sending you the address.” A few minutes later, a small child is delivered to the door. My friend’s voice crackles through the phone, laughing: “My husband and I are on our honeymoon! Have your little fan club babysit for me!” “Sara Collins, I swear to god—” There’s a kid here. What am I supposed to do with a room full of men now? Ryan laughs and scoops the boy up: “Maddie, look at him — he’s got a bit of both of us, don’t you think?” “Mama!” The child reaches for me with both arms. Just like Sara. Shameless. Instant attachment. I pinch the bridge of my nose. Fine. “Can you handle a kid?” I look at Ryan. “With you? No problem.” I wave the others off. Just Ryan with me was enough. I couldn’t exactly let loose with a child in the room. Watching Sara’s boy around Leo’s age, I feel something bitter settle in my chest. The things I’d normally do aren’t an option right now, so I take the two of them to the mall instead. We’re in the middle of holding a tiny jacket up against the boy when every sales associate in the store suddenly straightens up: “Ms. Ellie! Mr. Whitmore! You’re here!” I look up. Callum is holding Leo’s right hand. A woman — sharp-featured, warm smile — is holding his left.

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Ding! My inbox flashed. A “message sent” notification popped up in my screen. I frowned. I hadn’t sent anything and was sitting at my desk, fixing a bug. Then I opened the outbox, and found a resignation letter. My name at the bottom. What the hell? ···································································· Before I could even process it, every monitor started chiming. Notification after notification. The company’s Slack channel exploded. Our CEO, Vance, dropped a laughing emoji in the main channel. “Briar’s just showing off her talent! Don’t panic, people. I’ll recall every resignation.” Garrett, the useless CFO who hadn’t closed a deal in months, jumped in to suck up. “Vance, my resignation went through too. Guess I’m out, huh?” Vance fired back instantly. “Garrett, cut the crap. Even if this whole place walks, you’re staying. Who else is gonna cover my ass at the investor dinner?” It turns out that intern, Briar, wanted to flex her so-called “hacking skills” on TikTok. So she exploited an admin loophole. And mass-emailed a fake resignation letter under every employee’s name. Watching the banter, I figured I’d join the fun and wait for my recall notice. My screen refreshed. My request wasn’t recalled. It was approved. Out of a hundred employees, Vance pulled back ninety-nine resignations. The only one he greenlit was mine, the woman who single-handedly maintained the core infrastructure. So if Briar was the new “tech prodigy” and Garrett was his drinking buddy, then I, the corporate doormat who actually did the work, had outlived my usefulness. Before I packed up, I opened my terminal and revoked the personal licensing protocol for Aegis, the independent AI I’d been letting whole company use for free. A company-wide notification pinged: All resignations successfully recalled. I scrolled to the bottom. Only mine showed the green “Approved” stamp. HR Director Linda slammed my exit paperwork on my desk. “Sloane, you’re the only one who didn’t get recalled. Shame, huh? Performance bonuses drop Friday. You won’t be around to collect.” My stomach dropped. “Linda, please. That $200,000 is mine. My family needs that money for—” She shrugged. “Hey, I just process the paperwork. You wanna beg? Go beg Vance. Maybe he’ll throw his workhorse a bone.” I marched into Vance’s office. He was rolling a Cuban cigar between his fingers, and waved his assistant out the door. “Vance, I need an explanation. Why was I the only one let go?” He blew out a plume of smoke and gave me a lazy, condescending smile. “Sloane, we need to make room for fresh blood. You’re just too outdated.” He propped his Italian loafers up on the mahogany desk, smirking. “But hey, I’ll tear up your resignation if you really want that bonus. There’s just a catch.” I forced the words out through gritted teeth. “What catch?” Vance held up five fingers. “Demotion to L1. Intern-level pay. Say, sixty grand a year. Consider it a paid internship to get you back up to speed.” I froze. My ears were ringing. “Sixty grand? When you begged me to co-found this company, you promised me equity.” Vance’s face turned to ice. “That was then. The company’s restructuring. Me keeping you on at all is a favor. Take it or leave it.” My palms were slick with sweat. My phone buzzed. Children’s Hospital. Another invoice for my daughter Lily’s cardiac care. $5,000 a day, minimum, and we were still waiting on a donor match. Since my husband’s unexpected death, I only have my daughter. For that $200,000 that could save my little girl’s life, I swallowed everything and nodded. The second I stepped out, Vance clapped his hands and announced to the whole floor, “Everyone, meet our new Tech Lead! Briar is stepping up, effective immediately!” The bonus that should have been mine just landed in a nepo-baby intern’s lap. Garrett started the applause, shouting, “Briar’s the future of NexCore! Take notes, people!” A courier showed up with an obscene tower of coffe and artisanal pastries. The office erupted in cheers. Briar pranced around handing out drinks. When she got to me, she rattled an empty carrier in my face. “Oops, Sloane. I didn’t count you. Maybe hit the tap water fountain? Keep it intern-appropriate.” She giggled. Garrett chimed in, making a show of spitting on the carpet near my shoes. “Interns stay in their lane. You don’t get lattes.” I picked up my laptop bag and walked into the supply closet they’d assigned me as a “workspace.” Mold bloomed on the wall. Three years ago, Vance and I hauled servers through a flooded parking lot in the middle of a Bay Area storm. He swore we’d split the company fifty-fifty. Now he was popping champagne for the girl who just took my job. I wiped my face and started typing. You want a prodigy? Fine. You don’t get to keep my AI. I opened the Aegis admin console and typed: Revoke all licenses. Effective upon separation. I didn’t say a word. I just watched the circus play out. This place didn’t deserve me.

The next morning, Briar was parked at the core engineering console, cackling at a block of code throwing errors on the main monitor. “Oh my God, this loop bug has been sitting here for three years? No wonder the whole stack runs like turtle.” Her finger hovered over the Enter key, smug as hell. “I’m patching this out. Deleting it clean.” My scalp went electric. I bolted across the floor and grabbed her wrist. “Don’t touch that! That isn’t a bug. That’s a load-balancing patch I wrote to handle legacy hardware!” My throat was sandpaper. I locked eyes with her. “It throws errors on purpose. Delete it and every other processing unit goes into overload. The whole system will eat itself.” Briar ripped her arm away and brushed off her sleeve. “Sloane, just admit you wrote trash code and can’t fix it. You’re making up words now.” The commotion pulled Vance out of his office, hands behind his back, forehead creased. “What’s the yelling? It’s 10 a.m.” I grabbed onto him like a lifeline. “Vance, Briar is about to delete the throttle patch. It will crash the entire production environment. You have to stop her.” Vance glanced at Briar, then at me. A flicker of hesitation crossed his face. Briar’s lower lip started trembling on cue. Her eyes welled up. “Vance, she’s just jealous. Patching this will boost performance by 20 percent, minimum. She doesn’t want me to make the company better.” The hesitation died. Vance turned on me, cold. “Sloane, give the new generation a chance to innovate. Stop holding us back.” He patted Briar’s shoulder. “Go for it, kiddo. Anything breaks, I’ll take the heat.” I stood there, paralyzed, as Briar slammed the Enter key. Every light in the server room died. The central rack let out a low, grinding hum, and every screen went black. The whole floor fell silent. Only the emergency LEDs flickered, washing everyone in that sickly white hospital light. Briar’s face went the color of printer paper. She jumped out of her chair. “I… I only deleted one line…” The red phone on Vance’s desk started screaming. That was the direct line to Titan Financial, our biggest client. Fifty million a year in contracts. Vance fumbled the receiver. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “Marcus? You’re up early.” Marcus’s roar leaked through the earpiece so loud I heard every word from ten feet away. “Vance! We’re getting red-flag security alerts from your end! What the hell are you people doing?” Vance was shaking so hard his knees buckled. Before he could stutter out an excuse, the server rack chimed. Power returned. The screens flickered back on. The red warnings vanished. Briar stabbed a finger at the monitor and let out an earsplitting squeal. “It’s back! Vance, it rebooted! It worked!” A green banner scrolled across the display: SYSTEM LOGIC OPTIMIZED. She ran a performance test. The progress bar flew. The final number froze on the dashboard. Overall System Efficiency: +30%. Vance exhaled like he’d just dodged a bullet. His face snapped into customer-service mode. “Marcus, huge misunderstanding. We were pushing a core upgrade. All systems green now.” He hung up and gestured at the monitor, practically vibrating. “You see that? You have to break things to build them! Thirty percent, people!” Briar lifted her chin at me. “Sloane, who was it saying the sky was falling? Your face okay?” Garrett led the cheer. “Briar is a goddamn rockstar! Not like some people who squat on their chairs and scream about doomsday!” He shot me a sideways glare. “That’s what we call talent. It makes deadweight obvious.” The office erupted. They were popping Veuve Clicquot and doing shots at 10:30 in the morning. Only I knew the truth. That dashboard wasn’t a win. It was the final dying pulse of a system burning out its own to stay alive. I walked back to my closet and my phone buzzed. Unknown number. I picked up. “Ms. Reeves? This is the Chief of Staff at Stellaris Tech. Kellan Cross would like to know if you’ve reconsidered our offer.” Outside the closet door, they were still howling. Briar was balanced on a desk, pouring champagne straight down her throat. “I accept,” I said, keeping my voice flat. “But I’m still owed a $200,000 year-end bonus here.” A pause. Then, “Understood. Mr. Cross will handle it personally.” I ended the call and let out a quiet laugh. Vance. You picked your “prodigy.” Now watch me collect what’s mine, and watch your skyscraper burn down from the inside.

Day three. Last day of my transition period. The company was going berserk. Bonus deposits had hit everyone’s accounts, and the numbers were jaw-dropping, way higher than any previous year. I swiped open my banking app, finger trembling. Deposit: $2,000.00. Before I could even process it, my phone rang. UCSF Medical Center, Pediatric ICU. A heart monitor screamed in the background. “Ms. Reeves, your daughter is coding. We’re doing CPR.” The doctor’s voice cut through like a blade. “We have a potential donor match, but we need immediate authorization and a fifty thousand dollar deposit to lock in the surgical team. She won’t survive another arrest.” The world went white. My knees almost gave. “Save her. Please, God, save her. I’m transferring now.” I hung up and ran. I didn’t knock. I kicked Vance’s door open. He was stuffing a stack of dollar bills into a Tiffany gift bag, handing it to Briar. “Vance! That $200,000 commission. Give it to me now. My daughter is dying.” I was crying. My voice cracked. Vance didn’t even look up. He tied the gift bag closed with a little red ribbon. “Sloane, stop making a scene. That money’s been redistributed.” He gestured to the cheering floor outside his glass wall. “Briar boosted performance by 30 percent. The team earned it.” My entire body started to shake. Something hot and red climbed up my spine. “That’s my daughter’s surgery money. You can’t just hand it out like party favors.” Vance smiled. He stood up, grabbed my collar, and dragged me out into the open floor like a dog. “Everyone! Gather round!” He shoved me into the middle of the bullpen. A hundred pairs of eyes locked on me. Vance threw up his hands, performing for his audience. “Sloane here wants her $200,000 bonus back. Problem is, I’ve already Venmoed it to all of you as bonuses. So if she gets it, you all cough yours up.” He scanned the room, baiting them. “Any volunteers?” Garrett was the first to bark. He shoved his envelope deeper into his pocket and pointed at me. “Hell no! You think we’re just giving our money back because her kid is sick? Not my problem!” “Sloane, have some shame. You trying to raid the team to pay your own bills?” One voice became ten, then fifty. The jeers piled on top of each other. Briar raised her hand like a kindergartener, giggling. “Vance, since Sloane’s leaving anyway, why not split her salary budget into raises? Five hundred a month for everyone!” People were jumping, screaming her name. Vance waved both arms like a game show host. “Approved! Briar’s got the heart of a leader. Unlike some people who only take.” I stood in the middle of it, something jagged twisting in my chest. Last year, my team pulled five straight all-nighters to patch a critical zero-day. We slept on the server room floor. I begged Vance for a $500 bonus per engineer for three days straight. He smashed a glass in my face and screamed, “Sloane! We’re a startup! Stop thinking about money! Think about the mission!” Now he was buying loyalty with my daughter’s surgery fund and looked like the most generous man alive. “Briar for the win! Briar’s our real team mom!” The faces around me shifted from contempt to something darker. Pure hatred. Like I was the villain trying to steal food from their mouths.

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On my wedding night, my husband Kael forced me to drink liquor laced with a heat inducer, then threw me into a rogue den. The drug plunged my body into a state of shameless, uncontrollable need. I was pinned down by those feral rogues who had lost all reason, their bodies slamming into mine again and again in waves of agony. And Kael simply stood to the side, watching with a cold smile. As I drifted toward unconsciousness, I could not understand how I had gone from a bride that everyone envied to a she-wolf that anyone could use. That year I was eighteen years old, and my father, Alpha Howard of the Red Moon Pack, had decreed that I would be assigned as Kael’s chosen mate. I had counted down the days to the ceremony with a full heart. Because Kael had rejected his fated mate for me, and had sworn before the entire pack that he would be faithful to me forever. Everything shattered so fast, the fall from bride to pack whore taking no more than half a night. I dragged my ruined body back to Red Moon Pack, and my wolf told me we needed an answer. I needed my mate to tell me why, but what I received was not an explanation. It was exile. My entire family was destroyed along with me, and my pack was renamed Autumn Moon, the name Kael’s pack had carried before it was wiped out. I knelt in the mud. Kael tilted my chin up, his gaze cold. “If your father had not framed my father, my pack would never have been slaughtered by rogues.” “One hundred and eight wolves in my family, all destroyed because of your father’s greed.” “I endured years of humiliation in Red Moon Pack, living like a stray dog, all so that one day I could make your entire bloodline pay in full.” “What you owe me has only just begun to be repaid.” Red Moon Pack was erased from existence. I was stripped of my name and my identity, discarded into the most desolate stretch of the border, reduced to the most degraded shared omega in the entire outpost. Five years later, Kael came to inspect the border. I was draped in nothing but a sheer, tattered piece of gauze, straddling a Beta’s lap with lazy, provocative eyes. I took a mouthful of sharp liquor and passed it mouth to mouth into the man’s lips in full view of everyone present. The moment I turned my head, I met his cold, indifferent gaze. Kael sat in the seat of authority, and the look he gave me was thick with contempt. Five years apart, and he had not changed at all, still carrying the sharp composure of a top-tier Alpha, the arrogance of someone born to command written into every line of his face. It was nothing like the filthy, broken creature my father had brought back to the pack all those years ago. I curved the corner of my mouth, my gaze lazy and provocative. “Alpha Kael, looking at me like that, does it mean you want me to serve you the same way?” Kael’s face darkened as he let out a cold snort. “A degraded omega, fit to serve me? You don’t find yourself disgusting, but I find you filthy.” I ignored his contempt and leaned against the Beta with deliberate softness, letting my fingertips trail across his chest until his breathing grew ragged. The Beta exhaled roughly, plastering on a fawning expression as he looked toward Kael. “Alpha Kael, she’s the best piece we have out here, the kind that knows how to pull a man apart. If you don’t want her, I’ll take her out right now.” The room erupted in laughter. The warriors mocked without restraint. “Shev’s been too long at the border. Looks like he’s desperate for a release.” “As if Alpha Kael would want something like that. You’re the one getting lucky in the end.” “I heard Leah used to be the heir of Red Moon Pack. She’s a plaything now, but there’s still that proud streak underneath. Bet she’s a different kind of ride. Shev, leave some for the rest of us when you’re done.” I buried my face in Shev’s chest with a show of shy hesitation, using it to hide the humiliation burning behind my eyes. Five years of living worse than death, drowning in degradation, and I had never once been able to go numb to it. The wolves at the border were rough and careless, and no one would ever treat a traitor’s daughter with anything resembling tenderness. Every time they threw me out, I was covered in wounds. The worst time, I lay in the snow through an entire night and nearly did not survive it. My body was a map of bite marks and lash scars without a single unmarked patch of skin. The pain reached all the way into my bones, but I had no choice except to endure it in silence. No one cared how badly a worthless omega was hurt. I had thought about dying, more than once. But I could not. My younger sister Mia had been exiled alongside me. Her wolf had not yet awakened, and her body had been weakened by the silver dust that seeped into her blood the night our pack was destroyed, slowly eating through her healing ability from the inside. As long as I stayed alive and kept these wolves satisfied, I could earn enough to keep her going. I smoothed the pain out of my expression and gave Beta Shev a slow, seductive smile. “Tonight, whatever you want, I can give it to you.” Shev had already lost what little patience he had, and he scooped me up and headed for the door. In the next instant, someone seized my wrist and wrenched it hard. I cried out and fell, sprawling across the ground before I could rearrange my expression into something safe. Kael looked down at me with eyes full of vicious intent, and he drove his boot into me and sent me rolling across the floor. —

The taste of blood filled my mouth. I bit down and refused to let myself make a sound. After years of navigating these brutal border wolves, I knew better than anyone that crying and begging brought no mercy. It only made things worse. I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and let my smile grow more inviting. “So Alpha Kael likes it rough. I promise I can give you exactly what you want.” Kael fixed his crimson eyes on me without blinking. After a long pause, a cold smile surfaced at the edge of his mouth. He pressed his boot down on my chest and held me flat against the ground. “Leah. A few years gone, and you’ve sunk to this. I really did underestimate you.” Sunk. But when I had tried to die alongside my parents, he was the one who arranged everything and made sure I ended up thrown into the border outpost instead. I still remember kneeling in front of my parents’ bodies and begging him to give me a clean death, while he wrapped his hand around my throat and let his smile go cold. “Die? It won’t be that easy.” “Your father destroyed my entire pack, but he left me alive, and then played the generous savior by taking me in and bringing me into Red Moon Pack, forcing me to swallow my rage every single day while the hatred ate me alive.” “He wouldn’t give me the mercy of a quick end. So what gives you the right to die?” “Leah. Children pay the debts of their parents. I will make sure you can neither live in peace nor die in peace.” Now I was exactly what he had intended me to be, and yet he still looked at me with that disgust. Seeing that I kept my jaw locked and made no sound, the fury in Kael’s eyes deepened. He ground his boot harder against my chest, and the thin gauze I was wrapped in tore apart beneath it, leaving me exposed, the last scrap of dignity shredded along with the fabric. I reached to cover myself by instinct, but he grabbed me by the hair and wrenched me upright. Alpha Kael let his mouth curve in a cold, deliberate arc, his eyes full of cruelty. “Cover what? There’s no one in this room who hasn’t seen you like this before.” “Get on your knees. Let me see exactly how far you’ve fallen.” I ran my tongue over the bleeding corner of my mouth, then knelt at Alpha Kael’s feet with a look of perfect compliance, bending forward and pressing my face against his shoe like a broken stray. “Whatever Alpha Kael wants to do, I can take it.” “If you want me to be your dog, that works too. Why not have someone bring a chain and collar, and walk me around on a leash?” Kael gripped my jaw and forced my face up. His eyes were full of something I could not read. After a moment of silence, he raised his hand and struck me hard across the face. The corner of my eye split open and my vision flooded red. I smiled as though nothing had happened. “Does that feel better, Alpha Kael?” “If it’s still not enough, you could always have someone bring a whip.” Kael kept his face blank as he took the handkerchief a wolf guard held out and scrubbed the blood from his fingertips, his expression flat but his tone soaked in contempt. “Filthy. Leah, why don’t you just die.” I pulled one corner of my mouth up in something that was almost a laugh. “Alpha Kael seems to have forgotten. You’re the one who said I would be allowed neither peace in life nor rest in death.” “You were so afraid I might find a way to die that you had Mia sent here alongside me.” “And it was you who told the people here that if I ever died, she would take my place.” “Her wolf is unstable and the silver dust from the night our pack was destroyed is still in her blood, eating through her healing from the inside. The only reason she’s still alive is that the wolves here are reasonable enough to give me a few copper coins when I perform well, so I can buy her medicine.” “So how could I ever dare to disobey you? You have made sure I can neither live nor die on my own terms.” “If Alpha Kael feels any pity for me at all, why not let me serve you for a night. With your resources, whatever you give me will be more than what I earn from the others.” The moment the words left my mouth, a gold coin struck me across the face. —

The force of it was enough to leave half my face swollen and hot. But I did not cry. I smiled and bent down to pick up the gold coin, pressing it tight against my chest with both hands. The day Red Moon Pack was purged, I held my parents’ severed heads and wept until I nearly lost consciousness. I had no fight left in me then, only the single desperate wish to die. When the pack guards raised their blades toward me, I closed my eyes and refused to move out of the way. It was Nara, my father’s lover, who threw herself in front of me and took the blow with her own body. Her daughter Mia was right there beside us, screaming as someone tore her clothes from her body. Nara did not even look. She only held me tighter and reached up to wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes. “Leah, Alpha Howard and the Luna were always so kind to me. I have no way to repay that kindness except this.” “Please. If there is even the smallest chance of surviving, do not let it go.” I assumed she wanted me to survive for Mia’s sake, but her smile was full of a grief that ran too deep for that. “Your sister has always been sickly. If she dies, she dies. But you are different. You are the only one who can make sure this debt in blood is never forgotten.” I watched Nara be cut apart in front of me. She would not release her hold on me even at the very end. I could not leave a debt like that unpaid. So when I learned that Mia had not died, that she had been sent to the border outpost as well, I bit down until something cracked, and I let go of the idea of dying. I could be used and degraded until nothing clean remained. But I wanted Mia to live with her dignity intact. Alpha Kael would never know that a single gold coin thrown carelessly at my face was enough to keep Mia alive for half a year. Mia had been growing weaker by the day, and I could not afford the moonlight herbs that might have helped, so I could only brew ordinary herbs to keep her breathing a little longer. Every day Mia drank the medicine I made without complaint, smiling at me like nothing was wrong. But I knew she spent every night writhing in pain. I had already planned to do whatever it took today to satisfy the border warriors and earn enough for her medicine. I had not expected to walk straight into Alpha Kael. I pressed my forehead to the ground in practiced gratitude, gathered the coin, and began making my way toward the door on unsteady legs. Behind me came his voice, cold enough to stop blood. “Stop.” “When did I say that coin was yours to keep?” I turned around, numb all the way through, and when I saw the hatred in his eyes my whole body began to shake. I was still forming the words of a plea when the corner of his mouth curved into something amused. Alpha Kael reached over and picked up a meat cleaver, then sent it skidding across the floor to land at my feet. “You can keep the coin. But I should get something in return.” “I never operate at a loss. Since you are willing to do anything for money, how about this: one finger for one gold coin.” Kael and I had grown up together, and he knew I had always been afraid of pain. What he did not know was that after years at this border outpost, I had been pushed to the edge of death more times than I could count. The pain of losing a finger was nothing to me now. I picked up the cleaver and gave him a smile that had nothing behind it. “Alpha Kael is being so generous. I wonder, if I cut a few more, would you give me a few more coins?” While he stared in shock, I raised the cleaver without hesitating and took off three fingers in a single stroke. Blood poured out in a rush, but my smile did not waver. I held back the pain that flooded through my bones all the way to their roots and prepared to collect what I was owed. Then a soft, sweet voice drifted in from outside the door. “Kael, Ella has been waiting so long, I had to come find you myself.” My head snapped up and I found myself looking into a face I knew too well. Ella was dressed in fine, expensive clothing, barely resembling the girl from five years ago. She threw herself into Kael’s arms, and the look she directed down at me as she turned her gaze was full of triumph. “Leah. What are you doing here?” “What happened to your fingers? You’re bleeding so much. Kael, I’m scared.” Kael covered her eyes gently with his hand, and when he looked at me he made no effort to hide his revulsion. “Don’t look, Ella. It’s too filthy.” I could not hold back a laugh that came out wet with tears. When I had first been assigned to Kael, Ella was my personal attendant. The night our pack was destroyed, I was afraid of her being caught in the fallout, so I freed her from service, gave her everything I had, and told her to run as far as she could. She had not run at all. She had found her way into Kael’s pack, and into the place closest to his heart. The world turns in ways no one can predict. She was the one standing above me now. I looked away without expression and pressed my forehead to the ground in front of her. “Leah greets the Luna.” “This was Leah’s fault for frightening you. Please punish me however you see fit.” Ella bent and helped me up, her smile full of provocation beneath a mask of sweetness. “Leah, what a thing to say. How could I ever punish you?” “We shared so much together. When I was your servant I spent plenty of time being scolded by you.” “Seeing you end up somewhere like this, Ella truly hurts for you.” She reached out and took hold of my injured hand with a smile, and then squeezed it hard. Every nerve lit up at once and the pain nearly took me off my feet. On instinct I pushed her away. The force was nothing, but she staggered backward and went down hard, her hand landing directly on the blade and opening a shallow cut across her palm. Kael swept her into his arms, his eyes red at the edges with concern. He turned and drove his boot into my chest. “Leah. You are the lowest shared omega in this outpost, and you dare lay hands on what belongs to me. It seems I have been far too lenient with you.” —

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