Author: Momo Chan

I was at the dealership getting my luxury car serviced when the customer service manager accidentally pulled up a clip from my dashcam. On the screen, my fiancé, Marcus Hayes, was wrapping his arm around a heavily pregnant woman, looking incredibly tender. I forwarded the video to him right then and there. After a few seconds of tense silence, he texted back: “That’s just my distant cousin. Her husband is deployed overseas, so I’m just looking out for her.” I hesitated. Thinking of our seven years of history, I chose to believe him. Just then, a floating screen of glowing, semi-transparent comments suddenly drifted across my field of vision. The comments claimed she was me from ten years in the future. [Don’t believe him! Marcus is cheating on you.] [The luxury wedding gifts from your dad and brother, all the money you invested in his startup—he’s going to use all of it to pamper his mistress.] [In ten years, he will cause the tragic deaths of your father and brother, stealing every single penny your family owns.] My fingers turned ice-cold. I thought I was sleep-deprived and hallucinating. “What the hell? I’ve been with Marcus for seven years. I know what kind of man he is.” The floating screen erupted again: [We knew you wouldn’t believe it.] [Drive to Villa 8 at The Grand Crest right now. That’s the mansion your dad bought for your wedding. Marcus is hosting a baby welcoming party for his son right there!] My heart clenched. Taking a deep breath, I dialed my billionaire father. “Dad, Marcus is cheating on me.” “I’m heading to The Grand Crest now. Bring some security and meet me there.”

On the other end of the line, my dad’s voice exploded with rage: “I knew that penniless loser couldn’t be trusted! Thank God I stopped you from revealing our family’s true net worth to him!” Immediately after, my brother Austin’s cold, sharp voice came through the speaker: “Don’t be scared, Natalie. I’m bringing our security team right now. I’ll personally snap his legs for this!” I hung up, slammed my foot on the gas pedal, and sped toward The Grand Crest. The cold night air rushed through the half-open window, chilling me to the bone. Just a few days ago, Marcus had held me close, whispering sweet promises as we discussed our wedding details. I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. Marcus, you better pray this isn’t true, or I will destroy you! Before long, my car screeched to a halt in front of Villa 8. An elegant welcome sign decorated with red roses and pastel balloons stood at the entrance. “Welcoming Party for the Newborn Son of Mr. Marcus Hayes and his beloved wife, Chloe Vance.” I clenched my fists and charged toward the entrance, only to be blocked by two security guards. “Excuse me, ma’am. Mr. Hayes is hosting a private party at Villa 8 tonight. Invitation only.” The security captain looked me up and down with obvious disdain. Since I had been trying on wedding dresses earlier, I was only wearing a simple, thin beige slip dress. I certainly didn’t look like an elite guest. I let out a cold, bitter laugh. “I am Marcus’s fiancée, and more importantly, I am the sole owner of this property!” “This is my house. How did the property management allow strangers to host a party here? Why wasn’t I notified?!” The guard scoffed openly. “Your house? Do you even have a mirror at home?” “Mr. Hayes’s wife is Chloe Vance. The happy couple even held their wedding ceremony right here in this villa! If you want to crash a rich man’s party, do your homework first. Get lost!” My chest tightened so hard I could barely breathe. They held their wedding here?! Marcus had postponed our wedding year after year, claiming he wasn’t ready. Yet, he had already walked down the aisle with someone else. As I stood there shaking with rage, the floating comments popped up again: [Don’t just stand there and take it! Remember the master key card your dad gave you? It’s in your coat pocket!] Right! The key card! Without another word, I pulled out the sleek black card and tapped it against the security scanner. Beep. Master access granted. Welcome home, Ms. Sterling. Leaving the two guards frozen in shock, I marched right in. Inside, Marcus was smiling warmly, his arm wrapped around Chloe as they mingled with the high-society crowd, clinking champagne glasses. The sight made me grind my teeth, fury boiling in my chest. A few days ago, I had suggested we decorate this villa for our upcoming wedding. Marcus had avoided my eyes, claiming his company’s cash flow was tight and that we should wait. It wasn’t because he had no money! He had already stolen my house to nest with his secret family, terrified I would find out! The guests surrounded Marcus and Chloe, showering them with pathetic flattery: “Mr. Hayes, you are so young and successful! And now Mrs. Hayes has blessed you with a beautiful baby boy. You really have it all!” “Exactly! This penthouse estate at The Grand Crest is one of the most exclusive properties in the city. Mr. Hayes really spared no expense for his beautiful wife!” “Chloe is so lucky to have married such a devoted, perfect gentleman!” Marcus beamed with pride, leaning down to kiss Chloe’s forehead. “Chloe went through so much to give me a son. This villa is nothing. In the future, everything I own belongs to her.” I laughed out loud, stepping into the light. “My, what a lively party. I brought a spectacular gift myself. I wonder if Mr. Hayes is ready to receive it?” In an instant, every eye in the room locked onto me. “Who is she? Why is she dressed so cheaply? How did she get in?” The moment Marcus saw my face, the color drained completely from his skin. He rushed forward, grabbing my wrist in a vice grip, and hissed in a panicked whisper: “Natalie? What are you doing here?! Leave right now. I’ll explain everything to you tonight, I promise!” Explain? I sneered, grabbed him by his designer tie, and yanked him forcefully into the center of the ballroom. Marcus gasped in shock, opening his mouth to speak. Slap! I delivered a ferocious slap right across his smug, hypocritical face! Pointing at Chloe, I demanded at the top of my lungs: “If Chloe is your wife, then who the hell am I? Marcus, explain that to everyone right now!”

A hundred eyes stared at us in stunned silence. Marcus’s lips trembled, but he was too guilty to utter a single word. I turned to the crowd of wealthy guests, raising my voice: “Listen up, everyone! I am Marcus’s actual fiancée! This villa belongs to me!” “Now, if you have nothing to do with this trash, get out! I have some family garbage to clean up!” The atmosphere turned freezing cold. Suddenly, Marcus let out a mocking laugh and violently shook off my grip. His eyes filled with disgust and pity. “Where did this crazy bitch come from? How did security let a psycho in?” “Today is my son’s celebration! You came here to cause a scene? Which of my business competitors paid you to do this?!” “Security! Get this lunatic out of here!” Seeing this, Chloe’s eyes welled with tears instantly. She pulled a thick stack of cash from her designer purse and handed it to me timidly: “Miss, if you did this because you’re desperate for money, please take this. Just don’t ruin our special day, okay?” The moment she said that, the crowd erupted in murmurs of disgust directed at me. “So she’s just a gold-digging psycho? Trying to extort a rich family at a baby party!” “Throw her out! Don’t let her dirty the young heir’s celebration!” Just then, the floating comments flashed before my eyes again: [Vile bastards! Don’t back down! Slap him with the truth! You have the digital deed of this villa on your phone!] Yes! I pulled out my phone and brought up the official, legally stamped digital deed of the property. “Look closely, all of you! The sole owner of this villa is Natalie Sterling!” “Who does Marcus think he is? He couldn’t afford a single square foot of this place on his own!” Whispers broke out across the room. Marcus’s face flushed red, then turned a ghostly pale. “Oh, please. Where did you photoshop that fake deed? You dare flaunt it in front of the real owner?” A mocking male voice cut through the room. It was Zach Cole, Marcus’s wealthy best friend. He walked in, flanked by several beefy security guards. He glared at the guards, annoyed: “Are you guys blind? Why is this crazy woman still standing here?” The security captain sweated profusely: “Mr. Cole, she… she had the master key card to Villa 8…” Hearing this, a dark, vicious glint flashed in Marcus’s eyes. He suddenly raised his foot and kicked me hard right in the shin! The sudden pain knocked me off balance, and I crashed onto the hard floor. The master key card slipped from my pocket. Zach bent down, picked up the card, inspected it, and sneered. “The counterfeiting technology these days is impressive. Nice replica.” With a sharp snap, he broke the master card in half and threw the pieces right into my face. “If you’re really the owner, why haven’t any of us seen you around during the six months Marcus has been living here?” “You’ll do anything for money, won’t you? Even fabricating a pathetic lie like this!” The crowd went wild. “This is insane! People are actually counterfeiting security cards now!” “I knew it! She’s dressed like a beggar. There’s no way she owns a mansion in The Grand Crest!” Chloe sighed, tossing a couple of hundred-dollar bills onto my head. “Take this money and get your head checked.” “If you get on your knees and apologize right now, we’ll be generous enough not to press charges for trespassing.” Marcus held Chloe tightly, looking down at me with cold malice: “Did you hear her? Take the money, apologize, and get the hell out! Don’t make me get physical!” The crowd’s mob mentality was fully ignited. “Disgusting! Beat some sense into this shameless bitch!” “Why are we being polite to a grifter? Drag her out!” Someone threw a heavy glass tumbler at me. Smash! Scalding pain bloomed on my temple as warm blood immediately rushed down, blurring my eyes. The next second, a cup of hot coffee was poured directly onto my back. I curled up on the freezing floor, surrounded by their vicious, mocking laughter. Marcus turned to the security guards, his face filled with utter revulsion: “She’s clearly mentally unstable. Call the asylum and have them drag her away!”

Marcus adjusted his tailored suit, raised his glass, and toasted the crowd: “Everyone, I am truly sorry. My apologies for letting a pathetic lunatic ruin our evening.” “I’ll host another banquet next week to make it up to you all.” The guests immediately smiled, kissing his feet: “Don’t worry about it, Mr. Hayes! Your competitors are just jealous of your success. They can only resort to hiring low-life crazy women to do their dirty work!” “Exactly! With your net worth and influence, you’ll be running the New York business scene in no time. This pathetic stunt is just laughable!” I wiped the blood from my eyes, staring at him like a hawk. “Running New York? Without me, he’s absolutely nothing!” My voice ringed through the hall, freezing the room instantly. Everyone stared at me in disbelief. Fighting off the dizziness, I stood up slowly and glared at Marcus: “Marcus! Why don’t you tell everyone how you actually got to where you are today?!” Marcus’s fists clenched, his knuckles popping. He turned to me, a rare, murderous hatred flashing in his eyes. I laughed bitterly. “The Waterfront Plaza project. How did you get the bid?” “If I hadn’t made a personal call to Mr. Davis of the Sterling Group, your pathetic little company wouldn’t have even passed the security gate of the bidding hall!” Someone in the crowd mocked: “Is she still daydreaming? She talks as if she owns the Sterling Group!” I turned to the crowd, my voice dripping with icy pride: “Have you heard of the Sterling family? I am Natalie Sterling, the only daughter of Arthur Sterling, the richest tycoon in New York!” “If I hadn’t poured my family’s endless resources into his startup, do you honestly think this idiot could become a New York tech mogul in just three short years?!” I pulled up the digital copy of our marriage certificate on my phone: “Still don’t believe me? Look at this! Can you fake a government registry?!” A collective gasp echoed through the room. The atmosphere turned incredibly tense. “Shut up! Shut your mouth!” Marcus completely lost his mind. He lunged forward, grabbed my neck, and slammed me hard against the floor! Slap! He delivered another brutal blow to my face! “Who do you think you are?! How dare you spread lies at my party!” “If you’re a Sterling, then I’m the king of the world! Shut the hell up!” Seeing the guests whispering in doubt, Chloe panicked. She threw herself at Marcus’s feet, crying hysterically: “Marcus, stop! Don’t hit her! It’s all my fault!” She turned to me, sobbing: “Natalie, I know you became mentally unstable after Marcus broke up with you, but please stop lying! Please don’t ruin him! We’ll give you whatever money you want!” She reached out to grab my arm, but the moment her hand touched me, a vicious glint flashed in her eyes. She deliberately threw herself backward, crashing onto the floor, clutching her stomach and screaming: “Ah! My baby! My stomach!” “Chloe!” Marcus’s eyes turned bloodshot with fury. He turned back and threw a heavy punch right into my abdomen! “You crazy bitch! How dare you attack my wife in front of everyone!” With a sickening crack, I felt my ribs fracture, and a mouthful of blood sprayed onto the white tiles. I curled up in excruciating pain, reaching out a bloody hand toward Marcus. “Help… call 911…” Marcus stood over me, looking down with pure disgust. “Stop faking it. You brought a fake blood pack just to extort us?” “Nice prop. Too bad your acting sucks.” The crimson blood pooled around me, stainining the marble floor. Looking at the blood, a brief flash of panic crossed Marcus’s face. But his expression quickly hardened. “Throw her into the outdoor pool. Let her sober up!” The security guards stepped forward, grabbing me by my hair and dragging me across the floor like a dead dog. To show their loyalty to Marcus, several guests stepped forward to kick me as I was dragged past. “Shameless whore! Stop pretending to be dead!” “She tried to hurt Mrs. Hayes! Drowning is too good for her!” Splash! I was thrown brutally into the freezing water of the outdoor pool. Marcus walked over, grabbed me by my wet hair, and shoved my head deep under the icy water! “Sober yet? Say one more word, and I’ll make sure you never breathe again!” The suffocating water filled my lungs. The agonizing pain from my broken ribs and the lack of oxygen made my vision go dark. Just as I was about to lose consciousness completely… The sharp screech of tires echoed from the main gates of the estate!

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My son inherited my husband’s language talent. At just six years old, he was already fluent in eight languages. He and his father would often chat in foreign languages right in front of me. Today, while we were walking through the mall, my son pointed at my stomach and said in German, “Mama, der Bauch ist groß.” (Mom’s belly is so big.) My husband smiled and replied in French, “On peut mettre un cochon.” (We could fit a pig inside.) My son doubled over laughing, mocking me in Italian, “La mamma è un maiale.” (Mom is a pig anyway.) I turned to ask them what they were saying, but on second thought, I decided not to. Even if I asked, they wouldn’t tell me. Instead, they would just look at me with sneers, telling me to guess or look it up online. I simply quickened my pace, stopped in front of a luggage store, and said to the clerk, “Give me the largest suitcase you have, please.” After the father and son came out of the mall restroom, they went to get ice cream. Seeing me still picking out a suitcase at the storefront, they finally walked over, looking annoyed. Julian said, “What are you buying a suitcase for? It’s not like you’re going on a trip.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him curling his lip, mockingly imitating the way I squatted down to show our son. Leo laughed so hard his mouth wouldn’t close. The ice cream in his hand dripped onto the white denim jeans I had just washed for him. He flinched instinctively, but then, seeing his father backing him up, all fear vanished. He didn’t even bother to move his legs, letting the ice cream melt and run down his pants. I turned my head away, not wanting to watch the scene that was making my blood pressure spike. Instead, I kept discussing the details of the suitcase with the store owner. Seeing me ignore him, Julian asked again. “Clara, are you mute?” “You don’t speak foreign languages, but did you forget English too?” I didn’t see what was so funny about that. But hearing it, Leo burst into laughter again. A wave of disgust washed over me. For the first time, I wondered if there was something wrong with my own son’s head. To avoid making a scene in the mall, I explained that our old suitcase at home was worn out and I was just replacing it. Julian gave a dismissive grunt, then pulled Leo toward the arcade on the second floor. He was always like this. He never asked questions because he wanted answers. He just wanted me to submit to his rules. In his eyes, I was not allowed to ignore him, and I was not allowed to disobey. Naturally, it wasn’t just me. Everyone in this family had to obey his commands. He was a male chauvinist. Before we got married, I actually thought that was a good thing. I was indecisive and weak-willed. So my mother had suggested I find a strong, capable man to spend the rest of my life with. Then I found him. He was indeed very efficient. From daily meals to buying our house, to which school our child should attend and what extracurricular classes to sign up for. Whenever he saw me struggling to decide, he would make the best choice for me. Our life together had seemed pleasant enough. But ever since we discovered our son’s language talent, Cracks began to slowly appear in our lives. Julian wanted Leo to learn as much as possible. He signed him up for French, German, Mandarin, Italian, Japanese, and Korean. Recently, seeing how fast Leo was learning, he added Spanish and Swedish. I felt terrible for our son and tried to convince Julian not to push him so hard, warning him it might backfire. But he wouldn’t listen. He lectured me on how this was for Leo’s future, hinting that I simply didn’t know how to raise a child. Because Leo spent so much time with him, he gradually started harboring resentment toward me too. Everything I did was wrong. Anything I did made him angry. Even today, fearing he was cooped up studying too much, I brought him to the mall, only for him to complain the entire way that I was ruining his study time. It was obvious. I was despised by both my husband and my son. Over the years, it wasn’t that I hadn’t tried to fit in. But I really couldn’t learn those foreign languages. Even though I memorized vocabulary until midnight, carrying word cards while working or doing chores, I just couldn’t retain them. But Leo only had to look at a word once to remember it. He would then laugh at me, calling me the stupidest person in the house. Over time, my confidence was crushed, and I decided to stop trying. I resigned myself to taking care of the housework and being their support. But as time went on, I became nothing more than a maid in their eyes. Aside from sentences like, “Mom, I want steak tonight,” or “Clara, where are my socks?” They had no other communication with me. Their attention was never on me. Even when I cut my hand while chopping vegetables, or got my foot caught in the elevator door, They didn’t even bother to spare me a glance. I was utterly sick of it. In this home, I felt zero love. And on top of that, I had to constantly endure their malicious mockery. During dinner, if Julian wanted to test Leo’s language skills, he would suddenly ask him, “Leo, how do you say ‘Mom’s cooking tastes awful’ in Korean?” Leo would think for a moment, then, getting a bright idea, reply: “엄마가 만든 음식은 정말 맛이 없다” And just like that, Leo would be rewarded with screen time on his computer. Or before bed, Julian would suddenly quiz Leo, asking him to translate a Japanese sentence into English. “母は日本の女性によく似ている” Leo didn’t understand the underlying meaning of the sentence, but he translated it word-for-word anyway. His childish voice echoed in the bedroom. “The translation is: My wife is just like an old-fashioned Japanese housewife.” Then, Leo asked curiously, “Daddy, are Japanese housewives as ugly and submissive as Mommy?” Julian’s eyes flashed with a knowing gleam. He raised an eyebrow and said maliciously, “You’ll understand when you grow up.” Hearing their conversation, I naturally felt sick to my stomach. I pulled Julian into our room, complaining about why he had to do that, why he was teaching our son such things, and why he was always targeting me. But Julian didn’t feel he had done anything wrong at all. He replied unreasonably, “What? Are you saying I don’t know how to raise my own kid?” “Fine, you raise him then.” He knew very well that Leo never listened to me. Saying this was nothing short of a provocation and a show of power. I backed down, uttering a few useless words about not doing it again, And then covered my face with the blanket and went to sleep. Only today, I suddenly didn’t want to hide under the blanket anymore. I had always deliberately pretended not to care. Hiding myself away to lick my wounds. But in reality, it hurt deeply. I couldn’t discipline my son, And I couldn’t get respect from my husband. I was a failure. An absolute failure. That was why I bought that massive suitcase. To pack my few clothes, And my trampled dignity.

When I said I wanted a divorce, everyone around the table laughed. Julian did too. He sat at the head of the table holding his wine glass, looking at me with amusement, As if waiting to watch a comedy show. It wasn’t until they finished their previous conversation that they remembered what I had said about the divorce. Julian’s best friend, Marcus, spoke first. “Clara, you should count your blessings.” “Divorce? If it weren’t for Julian, who would even know your name?” Then, the rest of the group started throwing insults at me, one after another, each worse than the last. “Yeah, Clara. Think about it. You were just a daycare assistant when Julian noticed you. He gave you status, used his connections to get you promoted, and when you weren’t happy, he bought a whole preschool just so you could be the director. What, now that you’re well-fed, you’re going to bite the hand that feeds you and look down on Julian?” “And everything on you—the gold jewelry, the BMW you drive, the latest iPhone—which of these didn’t come from Julian’s pocket? Don’t be so ungrateful, alright?” They were right. Julian had indeed given me everything. But it was a transaction from the very beginning. When he wanted to please me and get benefits from me, he spared no expense. I didn’t force him to do any of it. Besides, I had suffered endless humiliation in this marriage. Yet, I had never said a single bad word about him. In front of others, to maintain his alpha-male image, I always acted like a submissive, quiet wife. But him? He either degraded me at every turn or let his friends look down on me. The higher his image soared, the cheaper my status became. I didn’t understand why he had to do this. In the beginning, his friends respected me, even putting me on a pedestal because of his status. Why couldn’t we be equals? Why did I always have to be a step below him? The more I thought about it, the more wronged I felt. I stood up, wanting to leave. Anyway, I had said what I needed to say. Once I packed up, I would see him at the courthouse. But though I wanted to leave, someone wouldn’t let me. With a single look from Julian, one of his lackeys blocked me at the door. Julian swirled the wine in his glass, ran his eyes up and down my body, and said, “Sure, we can get a divorce.” “I haven’t cheated, and I haven’t abused you.” “Return everything I bought for you, and we’ll sign the papers.” He was convinced I wouldn’t dare to go through with it. So he used every disgusting method to pressure me. I said, “Even in a standard divorce, your assets are partly mine.” “So, the things you bought that I wear are mine too.” After I said that, Julian let out a sarcastic laugh. “Ha. Married for a few years, and you didn’t learn anything else, but you sure learned how to bite.” I didn’t want to waste my breath on him. I took a step to leave. But his lackey hadn’t received the command to let me go, so he still blocked the exit. Furious, I raised my hand and slapped the man hard across the face. The force of the slap was so strong that my own body trembled slightly. Startled, Julian stood up and finally gestured for the man to back off. When I got home, Leo thought Julian was back and quickly shut his computer in fear. But when he realized it was just me, he muttered a curse under his breath and went right back to playing his game. I didn’t nag him like I usually did. Instead, I went straight to the master bedroom. I started packing my everyday clothes into the suitcase. I also packed up all the gold jewelry Julian had given me. I packed until midnight. After making sure Leo was asleep, Julian finally came home. He was being supported by a couple of his friends. When I opened the door, Julian’s eyes were incredibly bloodshot. The man who had insulted me at the dinner table earlier said, “Clara, Julian was crying pretty hard just now.” “Don’t make jokes about divorce ever again.” I ignored him and didn’t offer to take over helping Julian. I just let them dump him onto the sofa. Once the man left, Julian seemed to sober up a bit. He wrapped his arms around my back and murmured, “Clara, come here and help me undress.” “Tonight, I’m going to make you cry, you disobedient little thing.” “Let’s see if you ever dare mention divorce again.” As he spoke, he started unbuttoning my top from behind. I slammed my elbow into him, pushing him away, and stood up straight. Seeing how drunk he was, I didn’t say much. He wouldn’t listen anyway. I went to sleep in the guest bedroom. The next morning, I made a simple breakfast. Once the Italian tutor arrived for Leo, I grabbed my suitcase and drove back to my mother’s house.

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At the kindergarten parent-child showcase, Sinclair abandoned his daughter Juliet, who was wearing a princess dress, and hurried away because of a phone call from his childhood friend. Juliet finished playing the piece alone onstage, and after she stepped down, she calmly threw the out-of-print piano score he had bought into the trash. “Mom, I won’t need Dad to listen to me play piano ever again.” Looking at the light that had gone completely out in Juliet’s eyes, I did not scream or make a scene, but packed our bags overnight and took Juliet away, disappearing from his world for good. Later, Sinclair searched the whole world for us like a madman. But when he finally found us, he saw Juliet riding on another man’s shoulders, sweetly calling him “Dad.” The backstage of the kindergarten auditorium was hot and noisy, and the air was filled with the excited chatter of children and the reminders of parents. Juliet wore the Snow White dress we had carefully picked out, her little hand clutching tightly at the corner of Sinclair’s suit jacket. She tilted up her small face, her eyes sparkling as she looked at the man beside her. “Dad, it’s almost our turn! Are you nervous? I was even practicing the sheet music in my dreams last night.” Sinclair gave an absentminded hum. His brows were slightly furrowed as he kept lowering his head to check his watch, and his gaze never really landed on Juliet at all. One minute before the host announced them, his phone rang abruptly. As soon as he answered, Margaret’s sharp, aggrieved crying pierced through the speaker, so clear that it could be heard even from half a meter away. “Sinclair, come quickly! Brooks was fighting over a toy with someone at the amusement park, and he got pushed down and hit his head!” “He’s crying so hard he can barely breathe, and he keeps saying he wants you, and I really don’t know what to do all by myself…” Sinclair’s face changed at once, and he suddenly pulled his hand back. He pulled away with too much force and flung Juliet aside. Juliet was caught off guard, stumbled, got her foot caught in her skirt, and nearly fell hard onto the floor. Sinclair did not even look at Juliet and threw out a perfunctory sentence. “Something happened to Brooks, so I have to go check on him, and you can play by yourself.” After saying that, he turned and rushed outside. “Dad!” Juliet anxiously reached out to grab his sleeve, and a sob entered her voice. “It’s almost our turn, and you promised you would be with me!” “Stop making trouble! Brooks doesn’t have a dad to protect him, so do you know how pitiful he is? Can’t you be a little more mature?” Sinclair impatiently brushed away Juliet’s hand, pushed open the backstage door without looking back, and disappeared at the end of the hallway. “Next, please welcome Juliet and her father, who will bring us a piano duet.” The host’s announcement came from the front of the stage. The curtain slowly opened, and the spotlight shone down. Juliet stood all alone in the center of the stage, while the piano bench beside her was empty. Whispers of confusion immediately rose from the parents below the stage. My chest tightened, and my eyes instantly reddened, and just as I was about to rush onto the stage and carry her down, Juliet bit her lip and climbed onto the piano bench by herself. The piece that should have been cheerful and smooth came out broken and uneven under her fingers, and she hit the wrong keys several times. Under the glaring light, her tiny shoulders trembled slightly, but she stubbornly refused to stop. When the song ended, scattered applause sounded from below the stage. Juliet walked off the stage. She did not cry, did not make a scene, and did not throw herself into my arms for comfort like she usually did when she felt wronged. She walked straight to the corner backstage and picked up the out-of-print piano score Sinclair had just given her yesterday. She had begged for it for more than half a month before Sinclair finally asked someone to buy it, and last night, she had hugged the score happily and been too excited to sleep. With a smack, she threw the score into the trash without hesitation. Juliet lifted her head, and in her bright black-and-white eyes, the admiration and hope she once had for her father had gone out completely. She looked at me, and her voice was so calm it was frightening. “Mom, I won’t need Dad to listen to me play piano ever again.” I crouched down and hugged her cold little body tightly. There were no hysterical questions, and not a single tear fell. I only pressed her hard into my arms and replied softly, “Okay.” At that moment, I clearly heard the sound of a string snapping in my heart. For six years, at every important moment of Juliet’s growth, Sinclair could always find an excuse to be absent. And those excuses were always Margaret and her son. I once thought that as long as I was tolerant enough, he would eventually settle down and return to our family. But now, looking at the light in Juliet’s eyes completely extinguished, I only felt utterly sick. It was time for this absurd farce to end completely.

At eleven thirty that night, the security door opened with a click. Sinclair came in while tugging at his tie. He put on an exhausted act, but the sharp smell of perfume on his collar could not be hidden at all. It was Margaret’s favorite scent. I sat in the unlit living room and watched him change his shoes coldly. “Why didn’t you turn on the lights? You scared me.” He muttered as he casually tossed a limited-edition souvenir bag from the amusement park onto the shoe cabinet. “Juliet waited for you onstage for a long time today,” I said, staring at him in an unusually calm voice. Sinclair paused, and his brows instantly knitted together. “Samuel, do you have to pick a fight in the middle of the night?” “I told you, Brooks got pushed down at the amusement park and hit his head, and Margaret was so scared she kept crying, so how could I ignore that?” “So you abandoned Juliet’s showcase?” “Didn’t Juliet have you with her?” Sinclair raised his voice and argued as if he were completely in the right. “She’s not going to lose a piece of flesh just because she missed one piano performance!” “What about Brooks? He doesn’t have a dad, and he’s already pitiful enough, so what’s wrong with making Juliet feel wronged once?” “Do you have to be so petty with a kid from a single-parent family?” Looking at the shameless man in front of me, I only found it absurd. This was the husband I had been married to for six years. For someone else’s son, he had not hesitated to leave Juliet onstage as a joke, and then he turned around and forced us to be generous about it. I did not speak and directly threw my phone onto the coffee table, sliding it to his hand. The screen was lit, showing the Ins post Margaret had made half an hour earlier. In the photo, Sinclair was holding Brooks with one arm, smiling with a face full of fatherly tenderness. Brooks was holding an oversized cotton candy, and his forehead was perfectly clean, without even a red mark, let alone a cut. Behind them were brilliant fireworks at the amusement park. The caption was painfully glaring: Even without a complete family, he still has the strongest arms to lean on. Sinclair lowered his head and saw the screen clearly, and his face froze. But he only felt guilty for one second before immediately turning shame into anger. “You checked up on me? Samuel, are you sick?” “Margaret only posted a feeling she had, and Brooks was crying too hard, so what’s wrong with me taking him to watch fireworks to comfort him?” “Do you have to make such a big deal out of it?” “Yes, I don’t have to.” I was too tired to listen to his bullshit, so I picked up my phone and got up to walk toward the master bedroom. In the master bedroom, Juliet was sleeping very uneasily. Her little face was tightly scrunched up, and there were still tear marks at the corners of her eyes. I pulled over a thin blanket and carefully picked her up. “What are you doing?” Sinclair followed me over, his face full of impatience. “Why are you disturbing the child in the middle of the night?” “Because you’re filthy.” I did not look back as I carried Juliet toward the guest room. “Samuel!” Sinclair shouted behind me in frustration and anger. “You are completely unreasonable! Fine, make a scene if you want! Let’s see how long you can stay mad!” With a bang, I kicked the guest room door shut and locked it behind me. From outside came the sound of Sinclair slamming the bathroom door. He probably thought I would be like before, sulking for a few days, shedding a few tears, and then continuing to swallow my anger for the sake of giving Juliet a complete family. But he did not know that when a woman even found arguing unnecessary, it meant she had completely given up. I placed Juliet on the bed and gently patted her back. Looking at Juliet’s sleeping face, I had never felt more clear-headed. I could not live like this anymore.

At two in the morning, a faint whimper came from the guest room. I jolted awake and scrambled out of bed. The moment I turned on the bedside lamp, my heart instantly clenched into a knot. Juliet was curled up under the covers like an injured kitten. Both of her hands were pressed tightly against the lower right side of her abdomen, and she was shaking all over from the pain. Cold sweat had long soaked through her pajamas, and her little face was so pale there was not a trace of color. “Mom… my stomach hurts so much…” In a panic, I fumbled for my phone and dialed Sinclair’s number with trembling hands. “Sorry, the number you have dialed is powered off.” The cold mechanical voice stabbed my eardrums. I refused to believe it and called seven or eight times in a row. Powered off, all of them were powered off! Just a few hours earlier, he had liked Margaret’s Ins post, and the location was a children’s theater in the neighboring city. Now, to accompany someone else’s son to a show, he found my calls annoying and simply turned off his phone! Juliet was in so much pain that she started dry heaving, and she did not even have the strength to cry anymore. I did not dare delay any longer, so I grabbed a thick coat and wrapped it around her, not even bothering to change out of my thin slippers before picking her up and rushing outside. The emergency hall late at night was lit by deathly white lights that made my head spin. “Doctor! Help her!” I rushed toward the triage desk with Juliet in my arms, and my voice was so hoarse it did not sound like my own. The ER doctor moved very quickly, and after pressing her abdomen a few times, he immediately made a judgment. “Suspected acute appendicitis, and the situation is urgent, so prepare for hospitalization and surgery immediately!” My head buzzed, and my legs went weak, almost making me collapse to my knees. “Family member, go pay the fees and complete the paperwork first, then come sign the surgical consent form, quickly!” the nurse urged loudly. I held Juliet tightly with one arm while my other hand frantically searched through my bag. My hands shook too badly, and I could not open the zipper no matter what I did. With a clatter, the bag fell to the ground, and cards scattered everywhere. There was still a long line at the payment window, and Juliet weakly gasped in my arms. Despair was like freezing seawater, drowning me from every direction. “Samuel?” A deep, steady voice suddenly sounded above my head. I lifted my tear-streaked face. Hernandez was wearing a black coat, his brows tightly furrowed as he strode quickly to me. There was no nonsense and no unnecessary small talk. He glanced at Juliet, whose face was ashen in my arms, and immediately crouched down, efficiently picking up the cards from the ground and tucking them into my hand. “Give me the child.” Hernandez’s tone was calm, carrying a force that left no room for doubt. He stretched out his strong arms and steadily took Juliet from me. His broad shoulders instantly blocked the bone-chilling draft in the hall. “Go sit on that chair over there and wait for me, and I’ll pay the fees.” Watching his back as he strode toward the window, my nerves, which had been stretched to the point of snapping, finally found a little room to breathe. Hernandez ran back and forth, and in less than ten minutes, all the procedures were completed. Outside the operating room, a nurse came out holding a form. “Family member, come sign.” I rushed forward and picked up the pen, but my hand shook so badly that I could not hold it, and the tip drew a messy ink mark across the paper. Hernandez came over, and his warm, broad hand lightly covered my wrist. “Don’t be afraid, I’m here. It’s a routine surgery, and Juliet will be fine.” His voice was low and firm. The warmth of his palm miraculously suppressed my panic. I took a deep breath, gritted my teeth, and signed my name. The red light outside the operating room came on. The moment the heavy doors slowly closed, the last breath I had been forcing myself to hold was instantly drained away. My legs went weak, and I slid down the cold wall to sit on the floor. In my line of sight, a cup of steaming hot tea appeared. Hernandez crouched in front of me and tucked the paper cup into my icy hands. “Drink some hot water.” He did not ask why I had brought my child to the emergency room alone in the middle of the night, and he did not ask where my husband had gone. He only stood quietly to the side, blocking the cold wind in the hallway for me. Through the warm paper cup, my tears silently fell onto the back of my hand. When I was at my most helpless and most desperate, while Juliet lay on the operating table and her life was uncertain, my husband had his phone off and was in the neighboring city with someone else’s child. And the person who gave me the last bit of support was actually a high school classmate I had not seen in years. At that moment, the ruins in my heart named Sinclair completely turned to ash. Sinclair, everything between us was over.

The next afternoon, Juliet’s fever finally went down, and she fell into a deep sleep. Hernandez had hired a caregiver in the morning and brought over hot porridge, and he had just returned to his company to handle an urgent matter. I tucked Juliet’s blanket in and carried the empty thermos into the hallway to get hot water. Just as I reached the corner, a sweet, delicate voice slipped into my ears. “Sinclair, Brooks’s cough still isn’t getting better, and I’m really afraid it will turn into pneumonia, because he’s been weak since he was little…” My steps halted. Not far away, at the entrance to the VIP pediatric clinic, Sinclair was carefully draping his coat over Brooks. Margaret held a medical record booklet and leaned against his side with red eyes. Sinclair’s eyes were filled with distress as he reached out and touched Brooks’s forehead. “Don’t be afraid, I’ve already booked the specialist appointment. With me here, nothing will happen to Brooks.” What a touching family of three. I stood beside the water dispenser and coldly watched this tragic little performance. Maybe my gaze was too sharp, because Sinclair turned his head and met my eyes. He froze at first and subconsciously let go of Brooks’s hand. But immediately after that, he frowned, strode toward me, and spoke with a tone full of defensiveness and interrogation. “Samuel? Why are you at the hospital? Are you following me?” I almost laughed from anger. “Sinclair, do you have some kind of persecution complex?” Only then did he notice the thermos in my hand and my bloodshot eyes. He froze for a moment, and his tone softened slightly. “Are you sick? Why didn’t you call me?” “It’s Juliet.” I looked at him coldly. “She had acute appendicitis last night and just had surgery.” Sinclair’s face changed abruptly. Margaret, who was standing not far away, heard this and immediately clicked over in her high heels, covering her mouth as she exclaimed. “Oh my, how did Juliet get so seriously ill?” “Samuel, honestly, why didn’t you tell Sinclair earlier?” “Look at how much misunderstanding this caused.” In just a few sentences, she placed all the blame on me. As expected, Sinclair took the way out she offered, felt that he had lost face, and immediately lost his temper at me. “Samuel! Juliet having surgery is such a big thing, so why did you hide it from me?” “Were you trying to make me look irresponsible on purpose?” Looking at his ugly face as he blamed me instead, I did not argue hysterically like I used to. I only stepped closer and stared hard into his eyes. “Tell you? I called you twenty times last night! To avoid me, you turned off your phone.” “Sinclair, when you were accompanying them to watch a children’s play, did you ever think about Juliet trembling in pain on the operating table?” Sinclair was exposed in public, and his face turned blue and white by turns. He stiffened his neck and argued in shame and anger. “My phone was dead!” “Besides, appendicitis isn’t some terminal illness, and once it’s removed, isn’t it fine?” “Do you need to yell in the hospital hallway? Didn’t you see Brooks still has a high fever?” In his eyes, Juliet having her abdomen cut open for surgery could not compare to someone else’s son having a little cold. Looking at the man in front of me, I suddenly felt that saying even one more word would be a waste of breath. “Yes, appendicitis isn’t a terminal illness.” I tugged at the corner of my mouth, and my voice was as cold as ice. “Your Brooks sneezing is the terminal illness that needs the whole city to come rescue him.” “Samuel, don’t talk in that sarcastic tone!” Sinclair was completely enraged, and he pulled Margaret and Brooks behind him to protect them. “I only missed your calls, and you have to keep holding on to it, don’t you?” “You’re completely unreasonable! Margaret, let’s go!” He turned around in a rage, without even the thought of asking which ward Juliet was in. Margaret looked back at me, and a hint of smug provocation flashed in her eyes before she held Brooks’s hand and followed him. I stood where I was and watched them disappear at the end of the hallway. The fire in my heart that had once been called hope had completely turned into dead ash. I filled the thermos with hot water, turned around, and walked back to the ward with firm steps.

On the third day after Juliet was discharged from the hospital, she held up her body, which had not fully recovered yet, and sat at her desk assembling a model airplane. It was the project she had prepared for half a month for the science and innovation contest, and even when she had been in the hospital, hurting so badly that she broke out in cold sweat, she had still been clutching the blueprints in her hand. “Mom, only the tail wing is left.” A faint smile finally appeared on her pale little face as she carefully held the plane. I was just about to praise her when the front door was shoved open with a bang. Sinclair swaggered in with Margaret and Brooks. Margaret carried a bag of discounted oranges, smiling so sweetly it felt fake. “Samuel, Sinclair insisted that Juliet was out of the hospital and dragged us over to see her.” I looked at them coldly and did not respond. But Brooks was like a wild dog off its leash, shaking off Margaret and rushing straight toward Juliet’s half-open bedroom door. “Big plane! I want to play!” His eyes lit up as he pounced and tried to snatch it by force. Juliet was so scared that she hid backward, shielding the model in her arms with all her strength. “No! This is for my competition!” “Give it to me! I want it!” Brooks reached out and started yanking. During the struggle, Brooks tripped over his own feet and fell onto his butt. He froze for one second, then immediately howled at the top of his lungs. “Mom! Uncle Sinclair! She hit me!” Sinclair heard the commotion and rushed into the room with a dark face. He did not ask what had happened at all, and he grabbed Juliet’s wrist and yanked her outward. “What are you doing!” I rushed over like a madwoman to protect Juliet. But it was still too late. Sinclair had already snatched the model airplane into his hands. He lowered his head and glanced at Brooks, who was throwing a tantrum and rolling on the floor, and to coax him, he gripped the body of the plane with both hands and snapped it hard without hesitation. With a crack, a piercing sound of breaking rang out. Juliet’s half-month of hard work and its precise structure were instantly broken into several pieces. “Don’t cry, Brooks, I’ll let you play with it.” Sinclair threw the wreckage into Brooks’s arms like he was throwing trash. Brooks instantly stopped crying, grabbed the broken wing, and smashed it wildly against the floor while letting out shrill laughter. I was so angry that my whole body trembled, and I pointed at the mess on the floor and roared. “Sinclair, are you sick? That was Juliet’s competition project that she has to submit tomorrow!” Sinclair patted his hands, his face full of impatience. “What’s the big deal? It’s just some broken plastic toy, so can’t she make another one?” “She has to submit it tomorrow! How do you expect her to make another one?” “That’s your problem!” His brows were tightly knitted, and he glared at me as if he were completely justified. “Brooks wanted to play with it, so what’s wrong with letting him play with it?” “He doesn’t have a dad and is already pitiful enough, so isn’t it only natural for Juliet to give in a little when she’s older?” “Is this how you usually teach your child to be selfish?” Looking at this self-righteous man in front of me, I only found it absurd beyond belief. I suddenly turned back to look at Juliet, afraid that after just having surgery, she would not be able to handle this kind of blow. But Juliet did not cry. She did not shed a single tear, and she did not even argue loudly. She only stood there quietly, staring at the crushed parts on the floor, her eyes as hollow as a dry well. Then she walked around Sinclair, went to the corner, and picked up the broom. “Juliet…” My throat tightened. Without saying a word, she lowered her head, swept the fragments little by little into the dustpan, then walked to the trash can and dumped them all inside. After doing all this, she lifted her head and swept her gaze over Sinclair as if she were looking at a dead object, her childish voice cold enough to pierce bone. “Mom, it’s okay. Trash belongs in the trash can anyway.” Sinclair froze after being stabbed by that look, and he opened his mouth to curse, but the words got stuck in his throat. Looking at Juliet’s thin yet determined back, the string in my heart that had been pulled tight for six years finally snapped completely. Together with this rotten marriage, it was swept into the trash can. I did not want to endure this for even one more second. I was going to take my Juliet and leave this disgusting place.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “431753”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

For the sake of the story, I lived as a shadow designer for ten years to build Raphael’s jewelry empire. But when my father suffered a massive heart attack and desperately needed a transfer, Raphael diverted our private medevac chopper just to find his first love’s lost Ragdoll cat. Looking at his mistress’s Instagram post that read, “Even if the world ends, you’ll always find my cat,” something inside me snapped. Ten years of devotion, gone. I was done. I would take my share of the wealth, tear his company down to the roots, and let that toxic couple rot in hell together. The smell of bleach in the ER hallway was suffocating. “Miss Windsor, your father’s heart attack is severe. This local hospital doesn’t have the equipment to save him.” The doctor pushed the double doors open, speaking rapidly. “Where is the medevac helicopter? If he doesn’t get transferred in the next fifteen minutes, his heart will fail!” My knuckles turned white as I clutched my phone. Half an hour ago, my husband, Raphael, had promised me on the phone that he would dispatch the R-H private medical chopper immediately. He swore it would land in fifteen minutes. It had been forty minutes. I dialed Raphael’s number again. No answer. Biting my lip, I called his executive assistant. It rang for a long time before he finally picked up. “Where is the chopper?” I demanded, my voice shaking. The assistant hesitated. “Ma’am… Mr. Raphael… he diverted the chopper to the Westside estate.” I froze. “The Westside estate? Why? My father is dying!” “Miss Hailey’s Ragdoll cat ran into the forest behind her villa.” The assistant sounded guilty. “Mr. Raphael said there are wild coyotes in the hills. He insisted the cat was in danger and ordered the chopper to use its thermal imaging cameras to search for it.” A loud buzzing echoed in my ears. A human life was on the line. My father was fighting for his life in the ER, and Raphael had hijacked a life-saving medical chopper to search for a mistress’s cat. I slammed the phone down and opened Instagram. The very first post on my feed was Hailey’s, posted ten minutes ago. In the photo, the R-H Medevac chopper was parked on her villa’s lawn. The searchlights made the grass look as bright as day. Raphael’s back was to the camera, cradling a fluffy Ragdoll cat in his arms. The caption was sickeningly sweet: “Even if my world turns upside down, you’ll always find my cat. Thank you, my superhero.” I stared at the screen, feeling utterly hollow. For ten years, I worked behind the scenes, sketching designs until dawn, building Raphael’s name from nothing into a global jewelry giant. I thought we were a team. I thought we loved each other. But in the end, my father’s life didn’t even weigh as much as a cat to him. The red light above the ER door flashed ominously. I took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. My eyes burned, but I didn’t shed a single tear. Crying over a scumbag was a waste of tears. The pain and betrayal burned away, leaving nothing but absolute, icy clarity. I walked over to the hallway window and called my best friend, Sophia, who also happened to be the city’s most ruthless divorce lawyer. “Hey, Windsor! What’s up?” “I want a divorce,” I said, my voice cold as ice. “Draft the papers.” Sophia went silent for two seconds. “What did Raphael do?” “He diverted my dad’s emergency medical chopper to find Hailey’s cat.” I heard a loud slam on the other end of the line. “That absolute piece of trash!” Sophia cursed. “He’s a monster! Stay there, I’m coming to the hospital right now.” “No, don’t come here. Start working on the assets,” I said, staring out at the dark city skyline. “I want everything that belongs to me. I want his money, and I want to tear his company down to the ground.” “Good!” Sophia laughed coldly. “I’ve been waiting to hear you say that. I’ll freeze his accounts and dig up his secrets. I’ll make sure he ends up broke.” I hung up and walked back to the ER doors. “Doctor!” I called out to the nurse. “The chopper isn’t coming.” “Call the best private ambulance immediately. Use whatever life-support medications we need. I don’t care about the cost—just get my father to the city hospital safely!”

In the VIP ward of the city hospital, the machines beeped steadily. After a grueling night of emergency surgery, my father, Charles, was finally out of danger. Once my mother was settled in the visitor’s chair, I took a cab back to our estate in the hills. I unlocked the front door. The house felt like a tomb. Raphael’s designer tie clip was tossed carelessly on the coffee table. I didn’t even look at it. I walked straight up to the second-floor study. Just as I reached the door, my phone vibrated. It was Raphael. I answered and put it on speaker. “Are you done throwing your tantrum?” Raphael’s voice was dripping with irritation. “My assistant told me you canceled the chopper dispatch? Windsor, when did you become so incredibly petty?” I pushed the study door open, keeping silent. Raphael took my silence as an invitation to keep shouting. “Hailey is just a sensitive girl! She was crying so hard she couldn’t breathe when her cat went missing! Your dad is fine, isn’t he? Did you really have to start a fight over this?” He paused, then sneered. “Sophia just sent me divorce papers. Windsor, is this your new trick to get my attention?” He let out a harsh laugh. “It won’t work. I’ve already frozen your credit cards. Grow up, and don’t make me lose my temper.” I walked over to the desk and pulled open the bottom drawer. “Are you finished?” I asked, my voice flat. Raphael gasped slightly, caught off guard. “Raphael,” I said slowly, “keep your little mistress close. And tell your lawyers to get ready.” I hung up and blocked his number. No yelling, no crying. He didn’t deserve a single drop of my energy. I knelt down, entered the code to the safe, and yanked it open. Dozens of thick, leather-bound sketchbooks were stacked neatly inside. Every single best-selling collection R-H Jewelry had launched in the last decade came from these pages. Raphael was the public face, the “genius designer,” while I was the ghost who did all the work in this dark room. I dragged a large suitcase over and dumped every sketchbook inside. I left nothing. Then, I sat at the computer, logged into the encrypted drive, and pulled up our files. The entire product pipeline for the next three years—hundreds of original, unreleased designs—was saved here. I selected all files. Permanent delete. The progress bar ran to 100%. To make sure there was no way to recover them, I ran a hard drive shredder program and wiped the cloud backup. The screen went blank. I smiled. Raphael thought he was a business genius. Hailey claimed she was a prodigy. Let’s see how far they get without my designs to carry them. I walked into the master bedroom. I left the designer bags and diamond jewelry behind. I only took my passport, ID, and a few change of clothes. Ten minutes later, I stood at the front door with my suitcase. I took off my brass house key—the symbol of being “Mrs. Raphael”—and tossed it into the trash can. I walked out the door and never looked back. To hell with being his wife. From now on, I was just Windsor. And I was going to play by my own rules.

At my new independent studio downtown, the front door was suddenly kicked open. Beatrice, Raphael’s mother, strutted in with her maid. She was draped in gaudy designer logos, heavy gold chains, and chunky diamond rings that practically screamed “nouveau riche.” Her face was twisted in a sneer. “Windsor! You actually had the nerve to move out?” Beatrice pointed a manicured finger at my face. I sat at my desk and didn’t even look up. Seeing me ignore her made her even angrier. She sat on my velvet couch and gestured to her maid to start throwing things. “Raphael freezing your cards was a warning! You’re a barren woman who couldn’t even give our family an heir in three years of marriage!” “And now you think you can threaten us with a divorce?” The maid snickered in agreement. Beatrice’s insults got worse. “Hailey is ten times the woman you are! She’s young, gorgeous, and a true design prodigy!” “When she marries my son, she’ll give me a grandson in no time.” “You need to crawl back to Raphael and beg for his forgiveness right now, or you won’t get a single dime in the divorce!” I picked up the half-full cup of iced Americano from my desk and stood up. Splash. The cold, dark coffee hit Beatrice square in her face. Ice cubes bounced off her forehead. The brown liquid dripped down her expensive silk scarf, staining her clothes. The room went dead silent. “Ah!” Beatrice shrieked, wiping her face in shock. “You bitch! How dare you throw coffee at me?” “Who do you think you are, barking in my office?” I asked, pointing to the door. “Get out in three seconds, or I’m calling the police for breaking and entering.” Beatrice trembled with rage and raised her hand to slap me. But before her hand could land, a firm grip caught her wrist. Sophia stood there, her high heels clicking on the floor, her eyes fierce. “Want to add physical assault to your charges? I’ve been looking for a good lawsuit lately,” Sophia said, shoving Beatrice’s hand away. She turned to the hallway and shouted, “Security! Get these two intruders out of here!” Two building security guards rushed in and dragged Beatrice and her maid out of the office. Beatrice’s screams faded down the hallway. Sophia clapped her hands clean and locked the door. She walked over and slammed a thick folder onto my desk. “They really have some nerve. But don’t worry, I found what Raphael has been hiding.” Sophia sat down, her face serious. I grabbed a wet wipe and cleaned my hands. “What did you find?” Sophia opened the folder. “Your dear husband has been treating you like an idiot.” “Over the past three years, he used shell companies to funnel most of your marital funds into offshore accounts.” She pointed to a copy of a share transfer agreement. “And look at this. He secretly transferred 15% of R-H Jewelry’s core shares to Hailey.” I stared at Hailey’s name on the document. I didn’t feel angry. I just felt cold. Raphael had been using my talent to build his wealth, while using that very wealth to spoil his mistress. It was a beautiful little trap. “If we sue for divorce now, it will be hard to get those assets back quickly,” Sophia said, frowning. “He hid the paper trail well. We don’t have the internal financial records.” “A standard lawsuit could drag on for years.” I closed the folder. “We don’t need to rush,” I said, walking to the floor-to-ceiling window to look at the city. “R-H Jewelry is only successful because of the designs I kept in that safe.” I turned back, my eyes sharp. “If he thinks Hailey is a genius, let’s give her the stage.” “I want to watch their little empire crumble to dust.” Sophia’s eyes lit up. “Are you making a comeback?” “Yes.” I walked to my computer and opened a webpage. “The International Jewelry Design Gala next month will be my first gift to them.” On the screen was my registration confirmation as an independent designer. It was time to take back what was mine.

The news of my comeback hit the jewelry industry like a bomb. I posted an update on my new Instagram account: “Independent Designer Windsor. See you at the International Jewelry Design Gala next month.” The post included a sketch of a stunning, unfinished jewelry design. Within thirty minutes, the media went wild. The “secret genius” of R-H was finally stepping into the spotlight. Meanwhile, in the CEO office at R-H Jewelry, the atmosphere was tense. Raphael stared at his phone, his face pale with anger. He slammed the device onto his desk. How dare she challenge him so openly! Participating in the Gala? She was dreaming. He picked up the office phone and spoke coldly. “Tell all our suppliers and manufacturers. Anyone who helps Windsor gets blacklisted by R-C.” He wanted to see how she would compete without any resources. The door opened, and Hailey walked in, holding a cup of coffee. Her eyes were red. “Raphael, is Windsor still mad at me? Everyone online is talking about her…” Raphael’s expression softened, and he pulled her into his arms. “Don’t worry about her. She’s been sitting at home for too long and doesn’t know how the real world works.” “I’m giving you all our best resources for this Gala. You’re our star. Just show them your work, and the industry will fall at your feet.” Hailey nodded sweetly, but when Raphael looked away, panic filled her eyes. Her own work? She didn’t have any! For years, her “genius” reputation was built entirely on stealing Windsor’s old sketches. Now that Windsor had wiped the company drive, she couldn’t even draw a basic line. The competition was in a few weeks. She couldn’t afford to be exposed. Late that night, in the empty R-H design department, Hailey slipped into my old workspace and searched through the drawers. Finally, in the deepest corner of a locked cabinet, she found an old, dusty envelope. She tried Raphael’s birthday as the passcode. It clicked open. Inside was a beautiful sketch of a necklace. The lines were bold, modern, and perfect for the Gala’s theme. Hailey smiled greedily and quickly took pictures with her phone. The next afternoon, Hailey updated her Instagram: “Midnight inspiration. Can’t wait to show you my new piece, ‘First Love’.” She posted a blurred 3D model of the design alongside a cute selfie. The comments were flooded with praise from her fans and PR bots. In my downtown studio, Sophia slammed her tablet onto my desk, laughing mockingly. “Look at this! Raphael is trying to blacklist you, while Hailey is posting another stolen design.” I glanced at the screen, and my eyes narrowed. Then, I leaned back in my chair and let out a cold laugh. “Do you recognize it?” Sophia asked quickly. “Oh, I do,” I said, tapping the desk. “It’s a discarded draft of mine from five years ago.” Back then, I wanted to try combining carbon fiber with diamond settings. But after testing it, I realized the structure was highly unstable at room temperature. It would break easily. To prevent anyone else from making the same mistake, I had filed a hidden patent for the failed design and thrown the sketch in the trash. I didn’t expect Hailey to be so desperate that she’d dig through my garbage. “Let her make it,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee. “The higher she climbs, the harder she’ll fall.” I couldn’t wait to see her face when it fell apart on stage.

At a private shooting range on the outskirts of the city, the sound of gunshots echoed through the air. Bang! Bang! Bang! Damian took off his safety glasses and tossed his gun onto the metal table. Dressed in all black, he looked intimidating, his eyes sharper than a bullet. As the heir to one of New York’s most powerful families, he was known for being ruthless. Years ago, Hailey had faked a pregnancy to trap him into marriage, only to claim she “miscarried” later. Damian had tolerated her, treating her like a gold-digging trophy wife. But he didn’t expect her to embarrass him by sleeping with another man. The guards opened the door, letting Sophia and me in before stepping out. Standing before this powerful billionaire, I didn’t waste any time. I slid a tablet across the table. “Mr. Damian, you might want to look at your wife’s latest activities.” Damian glanced at me, then swiped the screen. The images were crystal clear. It was Hailey and Raphael caught in an intimate embrace by a hotel window. Further down were security videos of them entering and leaving a private villa, along with financial records of large offshore transfers. Damian stared at the screen, his jaw clenching. Then, he let out a cold, dark laugh. “She told me she was working late at the studio. I didn’t realize her studio was another man’s bed.” He lit a cigarette, the flame reflecting the anger in his eyes. He looked up at me. “I assume you didn’t dig all this up just to do me a favor, Miss Windsor?” I met his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” I sat down. “Raphael has been transferring his company’s shares and cash to Hailey’s name. I want to destroy Raphael, and you need to clean up your own house. We want the same thing.” Damian blew out a ring of smoke, studying me. “What’s the plan?” “The International Jewelry Design Gala next week,” I said, tapping the table. “I will expose Hailey in front of the entire industry.” “But I need you to freeze Raphael’s offshore funds. Cut off his escape route.” Sophia handed over a financial report. “We know your influence in the financial sector, Mr. Damian. If you can freeze those accounts for just three days, Raphael’s cash flow will collapse.” “Once the scandal breaks, R-C’s stock will crash.” Damian glanced at the report and smiled coldly, crushing his cigarette. “Three days is too short. If we’re going to play, let’s play dirty. I’ll make sure he never sees that money again.” He stood up, leaning over the table. “I’ll handle the media and PR for the Gala.” “I want the highest-definition live stream. I want to make sure everyone sees their downfall, and no one can save them.” I stood up and held out my hand. “Deal.” We shook hands—cold, firm, and decisive. Two betrayed people, forming a deadly alliance. The trap was set, and the hunt was about to begin.

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I rushed to the ER the second I got the page—a victim of a brutal assault with severe, life-threatening vaginal tearing. Without a second thought, I immediately prepped her and began the emergency pelvic exam. But my wife, Chloe, who was also the head nurse, snapped. Right in front of the traumatized patient’s family, she flew into a hysterical rage. “Are there no female doctors in the OB-GYN department? Why does a man have to perform this exam?” “And right in front of your own wife, too! Have you no shame, Logan?” In an instant, her words lit a wildfire. The internet erupted, and I became the most hated predator in the city. The hospital board, buckling under the PR nightmare, suspended my medical license and threatened to withhold my pay. In a fit of cold fury, I packed my locker and walked out. Let them. Without me, there wasn’t a single surgeon in this city who could sew that patient back together. “Logan Carter, you’re trending nationwide! Crazy keyboard warriors are driving miles just to throw rotten eggs at our lobby. They’re threatening to shut us down if we don’t make an example out of you!” Director Richard Vance slammed his hands on his mahogany desk, his face purple with rage as he barked at me. Outside, protesters were already lining the streets with picket signs. Online, a hate thread targeting me on Instagram had reached millions of views. I stood my ground, my voice calm but firm. “Director Vance, I followed standard emergency protocols to the letter. As an OB-GYN specialist, when a patient presents with severe active hemorrhaging in the pelvic area, my first and only duty is to examine the wound and stop the bleeding—” Chloe pushed the door open, cutting me off without a shred of respect. “Director Vance, the mob is blocking the ambulance bay. You need to sign his termination papers right now.” She shot me a glance filled with utter disgust. “Being married to a creep like you is the biggest mistake of my life. You make my skin crawl.” Her words felt like a knife twisting in my chest. I had done my duty to save a life. It was her loud, malicious accusations in front of the crowd that had branded me a monster. She had single-handedly destroyed my reputation as a doctor. Chloe slid a blank resignation agreement onto the desk, her tone dripping with self-righteous poison. “Director Vance, under the circumstances, I suggest we fire Logan immediately. He should also be fined three thousand dollars a month from his pension as a penalty.” “If you agree, I’ll post the official announcement on the hospital bulletin board right now.” Director Vance glanced at the paper and gave me a sharp nod, signaling me to sign. Chloe shoved the pen into my hand, mocking me. “For the sake of our past marriage, and so you don’t end up begging on the streets, I’ve pulled some strings. I got you a position as an unregistered orderly.” She threw a low-level staff application at my feet. “Consider yourself lucky.” Without waiting for me to respond, she ordered the security guards to clear my desk. All my personal belongings, including the assault victim’s charts, were tossed onto the hallway floor. I knelt and picked up the patient’s file, which had been scuffed by several footprints. Looking straight at Chloe, I said flatly, “No one else in this city can perform this reconstruction surgery. I hope you can handle the consequences. Don’t come crawling back to beg me.” When I had examined the patient earlier, I noticed her internal lacerations were highly abnormal. She was suffering from deep arterial hemorrhaging and severe localized swelling. Standard suture methods would fail and cause permanent tissue necrosis. Only I had mastered the newly developed dual-tension micro-suture technique required to save her. But before I could even explain this to the director, loud footsteps and excited chatter echoed from the corridor. Chloe’s cold face instantly melted into a beaming smile. She practically ran down the hallway to greet the man walking in. “Julian! You’re finally here! Director Vance has been waiting for you.” Seeing his face, I felt like I had been struck by lightning. In that single second, everything clicked. I finally understood why Chloe, my own wife, had publically humiliated me and branded me a predator. Julian Sterling. He looked at me, a smirk playing on his lips. “Logan, old friend. Long time no see. Thanks for taking such good care of my Chloe while I was away.” “But now that I’m back from my fellowship in Europe, it’s time for you to hand back what’s mine—including Chloe, and your title as the clinic’s top surgeon.” Julian Sterling was Chloe’s “one that got away”—her first love. For the years we were married, his name had been a forbidden shadow over our relationship. I had foolishly believed she had moved on. But not only had she kept him in her heart, she had been plotting to ruin me just to clear a path for him. Director Vance immediately organized a grand welcome in the main lobby. “Dr. Sterling is a brilliant mind with a master’s degree from a prestigious European university and ten years of OB-GYN experience. With him leading the department, our hospital’s reputation will be restored.” “Unlike Logan, who got a little lucky with some basic surgery and let it go to his head, dragging our entire hospital into a PR disaster.” Chloe clung to Julian’s arm, her smile radiant. “Director Vance, Julian is a true gentleman. He would never do anything as shameless and unprofessional as what Logan did.”

The way they flaunted their intimacy, anyone would have thought they were the married couple. Meanwhile, as her legal husband, I had been stripped of my medical privileges, demoted to a janitorial orderly, and was currently sweeping the floors of the main conference room. Julian walked up to me, a smug grin plastered on his face. He threw a patient’s chart directly at my chest. “Take me to the patient, orderly. Let me show you how a real, world-class specialist diagnoses a case.” His sheer arrogance made me want to throw up. But with Chloe glaring at me threateningly, I clenched my fists and led the way. “Fine. Let’s see what a genius can do.” Inside the VIP ward, Julian barely looked at the patient. He listened to her describe her symptoms for less than two minutes before confidently scribbling down a treatment plan and a heavy prescription. Behind him, several junior resident doctors and I exchanged incredulous looks. When Chloe started showering him with praise, my apprentice, Leo, couldn’t take it anymore. “Head Nurse Chloe, are you blind? Dr. Sterling is completely making things up! No real doctor prescribes a heavy hormonal treatment for severe trauma without performing a physical examination first!” “Besides, Dr. Carter already noted that this patient’s lacerations are highly irregular—” Chloe cut him off, her eyes narrowing. “Julian has a master’s degree from a top-tier European medical school. What does Logan have? A degree from a mediocre state college.” “If Director Vance and I hadn’t protected him, Logan’s resume wouldn’t have even gotten him past our HR department.” It was true. My academic credentials weren’t as flashy as Julian’s. But I had been in the trenches of the ER doing real surgeries since the day I graduated. I knew for a fact that my hands-on clinical experience was worth ten of his master’s degrees. I let out a cold laugh. “A fancy degree doesn’t make up for a lack of common sense. I don’t know what kind of ‘experience’ you got in Europe, Julian, but this diagnosis proves you’re nothing but an empty suit.” Turning to Chloe, I added, “Chloe, if you want to put your faith in this fraud, fine. Let’s get a divorce.” Over the years, the thought of divorce had crossed my mind, but I had always held on because I respected her dedication to her job. I had been blind. I had spent years loving a snake. As a head nurse, she knew better than anyone how dangerous it was to prescribe medication based solely on a patient’s self-report. Yet, she chose to risk a patient’s life just to boost Julian’s ego. Chloe’s face turned icy. “Are you threatening me, Logan? Who gave you the confidence to think I’d care if you divorced me?” Julian sneered, “Look at him. The incompetent doctor gets demoted, so he resorts to threatening his wife with domestic drama. How insecure can you get, Logan?” “If you think my prescription is wrong, why don’t we let Director Vance decide?” Chloe didn’t say a word to defend me. She just stared at me with that same cold, disgusted look. To her, I was just a bitter, jealous loser trying to slander her perfect white moonlight. I smiled bitterly. The last shred of affection I had for this woman vanished. “I mean it, Chloe. Support him, and we are done.” “Fine by me! I have Julian now. I don’t need you!” Chloe was so busy helping Julian establish his position in the hospital that she worked day and night. When I handed her the printed divorce papers, she signed them without even reading the terms. Once the divorce was finalized, I submitted my formal resignation. As I walked toward the director’s office to hand in my badge, I ran into the family of another emergency patient. They were frantically demanding updates from Director Vance. Hearing the symptoms, I realized this new patient had the exact same severe lacerations as the first one. Out of sheer professional instinct, I stepped in. “Director Vance, standard suturing won’t work on her. We need to use the dual-tension method—” Before I could finish, Julian rudely shoved me out of the way. “Move it, orderly! Patient privacy is none of your business.” Turning to the worried family, Julian pointed at me. “Don’t listen to him. This is the creep the internet was talking about. He was demoted to janitor for inappropriate conduct with a female patient.”

At Julian’s words, the family’s faces instantly twisted into expressions of pure disgust. “You’re that sick bastard!” the father roared, stepping forward. “And you have the nerve to stand here telling us you want to examine my daughter with some ‘new technique’?” “You just want an excuse to touch her, you sick pervert!” “How disgusting! My daughter has already been through a horrific assault, and now she has to deal with a predator doctor trying to take advantage of her!” Julian stood tall, puffing out his chest. “Don’t worry, sir. Your daughter’s surgery is safe in my hands. I personally guarantee her privacy and the highest standard of care.” Hearing those venomous words from the family, a profound coldness settled in my heart. For the first time in my life, I questioned why I had ever dedicated myself to saving lives. Whatever. I was leaving anyway. Why should I care? I turned to walk away, but Chloe intercepted me at the end of the hall. “Logan! Julian is about to start the surgery. Why haven’t you sterilized the operating room yet? What are you doing slacking off?” “As an orderly, that is your job.” Julian smirked, spreading his arms wide. “Oh, since you’re here, Logan, do me a favor and help me into my sterile gown.” “And make sure the surgical tray is perfectly organized. You used to be a doctor, so I assume you know which instruments I need without me having to hold your hand?” My veins burned with fury. “No problem. Let me help you with that gown.” I grabbed the sterile gown, threw it over his head to blind him, and delivered two brutal punches straight to his ribs. Before he could recover, I landed a heavy kick to his groin. “Logan! Stop it!” Chloe lunged at me from behind, locking her arms around my neck, choking me. “How dare you lay a hand on Julian! Do you want to die?!” I froze. Chloe was actually physically attacking me for Julian. As the head nurse, she was famous for her calm demeanor and polite customer service. She had never raised her voice, let alone her hands, at anyone. Years ago, when a furious patient’s family had assaulted me in the hallway, Chloe had only stood by, calmly explaining the situation to them. “The fetus had already passed away in the womb,” she had told them politely. “Dr. Carter only performed the procedure to save your wife. He didn’t hurt the baby.” She hadn’t fought for me then. But now, she was trying to strangle me to protect Julian. Fearing she might actually cut off my airway, I wrenched myself free, grabbed Julian, and roughly forced him into his surgical gown. Julian shot me a venomous look. The moment my hands were occupied adjusting his sleeves, he slapped me hard across the face. The slap echoed through the hallway. My cheek burned, swelling rapidly. Chloe stood by, watching with cold indifference. “You deserved that,” she sneered. “Don’t ever think you’re on Julian’s level.” To show off his skills, Julian insisted on broadcasting his surgery live to the department’s lecture room. All staff, including me, were ordered to watch. Anyone with basic medical knowledge could see the tissue damage required specialized, delicate care. Yet, Julian proceeded with standard, aggressive suturing. Beside me, my apprentice Leo whispered, “Dr. Carter, look at that tension. That doesn’t look right for a deep pelvic tear…” I nodded silently, but instead of replying, I stood up and walked toward the director’s office. “It’s completely wrong. But it’s no longer my problem.” The day Director Vance signed off on my official exit paperwork, Julian strutted into the office, showing off a brand-new iPhone 15 Pro Max. “Logan, you really were a terrible doctor. You made such a fuss over a simple suture, and it took me less than an hour to fix it.” “Turns out yesterday’s patient is the daughter of a major real estate mogul in the city. Her father wanted to thank me personally. Chloe recommended me for the case, and they just gifted me this new phone as a token of appreciation.” Chloe leaned her head against Julian’s shoulder, looking at me with pure disdain. “If Logan had performed that surgery, our hospital would probably be burned to the ground by a mob by now.” “He’s nothing but a shameless loser.” I stared at them for a second, a sudden realization hitting me. So, the family who had screamed at me was the family of the city’s most powerful developer. Well, what a pity. Since Julian did the surgery, they’d be back in the ER sooner than they thought. I hoisted my duffel bag onto my shoulder. “Congratulations to you both, then.” As I walked out of the main lobby, a group of high-ranking doctors from the State General Hospital brushed past me. At the front of the group was a stern-looking senior expert, speaking sharply to Director Vance, who had rushed down to greet them. “This is the third victim of this serial assault case. The Medical Board, the Governor’s office, and the Police Department are all watching this. Where is Dr. Logan Carter? Chief Detective Andrews needs his forensic assessment immediately.” But I didn’t stop. I walked straight past them and climbed into a cab waiting to take me to the airport. I was done with this place.

The moment I landed in Hawaii, I turned off my brain and slept for two full days. I completely wiped the hospital, the betrayal, and the stress from my mind. It was as if I had never worked a day in my life. A week later, I finally powered on my phone. The screen instantly froze under a tidal wave of missed calls and notifications. Chloe had sent dozens of frantic voice messages on Snapchat. “Logan! Where the hell are you? Get back to the hospital in five minutes!” Then came a message from Director Vance. He sounded desperate. He said the real estate mogul’s daughter was in critical condition. Julian’s surgery had failed, and the family was demanding that I, and only I, perform the revision surgery. He promised that if I saved her, they would completely clear my name and restore my license. Listening to the audio files, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. I had warned them. I had practically begged them to listen. And now that the patient was dying, they suddenly remembered my name? I ignored the messages, tossed my phone onto my beach towel, and laid back to enjoy the Hawaiian sun. But paradise had its flaws. The beach was notorious for pickpockets. As I was dozing off under an umbrella, I felt a sudden tug on my backpack. I opened my eyes to see a teenager running away with my bag. Instinct kicked in. I sprinted after him, took him down with a clean sweep, pinned him to the sand, and dragged him straight to the local precinct. While the deputy was taking my statement, the station’s radio went off. It was a frantic emergency call. A heavily pregnant woman in a remote cabin was in active labor. The nearest ambulance was at least an hour away, and she was alone and terrified. The deputies were panicking. They weren’t trained for high-risk deliveries. Out of sheer medical instinct, I pulled out my digital board certification from my phone. “I’m an OB-GYN surgeon. I can help.” After verifying my credentials, the deputy practically threw me into the patrol car. Over my career, I had delivered babies in every extreme condition imaginable. This was nothing. Forty minutes later, a healthy baby boy let out his first cry. By the time the paramedics arrived, the mother was stable, and the baby was clean. The lead paramedic looked at me like I was a god. “Dr. Carter, that was incredible work. We are severely understaffed here. Would you consider joining our medical center? We can offer you a premium contract.” I smiled and politely declined. “Thank you, but I’m taking a break from medicine. However, if there’s an emergency while I’m in town, feel free to call.” Though I declined a full-time role, the clinic director was incredibly grateful. He even personally paid for a luxury condo rental for me, hoping I’d stay on the island a bit longer to consult on difficult cases. I was living the dream, completely forgetting about the toxic mess back home. Until Chloe tracked me down. She sent me a furious FaceTime request, her face twisted in rage when I answered. “Logan Carter! Who do you think you are? Ignoring my calls and texts!” “The entire hospital is turning upside down looking for you!” “We tracked your IP address to Hawaii. Get your ass on a plane back to Austin right now! The State Board experts are waiting for you!” I had turned off my GPS before boarding, but I had made the mistake of posting a beach photo on Instagram without blocking her. Director Vance’s call came through immediately after. He sounded like he was on the verge of tears, begging to know when I was coming back. It was obvious. The Medical Board and the Police Department were putting immense pressure on them. This wasn’t just a botched surgery anymore; it was a high-profile criminal case. If the patient suffered permanent damage because of the hospital’s incompetence, it would be a massive civil lawsuit and criminal negligence. “Logan! Get back here!” Chloe’s shrill voice screamed through the speaker. I pulled the phone away from my ear and replied coolly, “First of all, Chloe, we are divorced, and I don’t work for you. I don’t have to do a damn thing you say. Second, I resigned. Why would I fly back to work for free?” “And lastly, is this how you beg someone for help? Where are your manners?” Chloe gasped, momentarily speechless, before she erupted into more venomous insults. “Logan, do you really think this hospital can’t function without you?” “Beg you? In your dreams! Go to hell! I hope you drown in Hawaii!”

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For six years, Ethan Hayes kept me a secret. Today marked the eighteenth time he bailed on our wedding shoot. His excuse? Another “emergency board meeting.” I scrubbed off my flawless makeup. Stepped out of the expensive Vera Wang gown. As I was halfway out the door, a familiar voice caught my attention. It was Ethan! “Bring out your exclusive collection. Only the best for my fiancée.” My heart soared. Who knew this workaholic could be so romantic? I yanked the curtain open, his name on my lips. But the manager’s flattering voice beat me to it: “Trust me, Mr. Hayes, she looks breathtaking. Hands down the most stunning bride in the city.” The smile froze on my face. The manager wasn’t talking about me. He was praising the woman wrapped in Ethan’s arms. Chloe. The manager’s eyes caught mine, then darted away. He stepped in my path, shifting uncomfortably. “Ma’am… since your partner couldn’t make it today, would you like to reschedule?” I shook my head. “Don’t bother.” He looked conflicted. “Just a reminder that the deposit is non-refundable. If next week is too soon, we can always push it to next month.” “No need,” I replied calmly. “He died in an accident today. His schedule is permanently cleared.” …… All the color drained from his face. “O-Oh my god… I am so sorry. Ma’am, given the circumstances, I’ll call corporate right now and make an exception to refund your—” I shook my head again. A pain like a thousand needles pierced my chest. Our relationship was a secret. No engagement party. No public announcements. Not even his closest friends knew I existed. That’s why I clung so desperately to this shoot. It was the only proof that our love was real. Six years. Eighteen broken promises. And now, here he was. Fulfilling my dream with someone else. Mistaking my silence for grief, the manager reached out to steady me. “Ma’am… are you alright?”

My voice was hoarse. “I’m fine. Keep the deposit.” With that, I walked straight toward Ethan. He took a step back, eyes darting away. A bitter smirk tugged at my lips. I brushed past him and walked right out the door. That night, he came home with a bouquet of red roses. A rare sight. He forced an apologetic smile. “Ella… thank you for keeping your cool today. You know how fragile Chloe is. If you’d made a scene, she would’ve shattered.” He paused, then threw me a bone: “Haven’t you always wanted to go to Santorini? Once things settle down at work, I’ll take you there.” A tear slipped down my cheek. This was supposed to be my dream: the flowers, the trip, the man I loved. Turns out, it was that easy. Any other day, I would have cried and thrown myself into his arms. I didn’t answer. I just asked him coldly, “Why her?” Chloe. My stepsister. Together, she and her mother drove my mom to her grave. She was the person I hated most in this world. And Ethan knew that better than anyone. He could have cheated on me with anyone. But he chose her. It was the ultimate stab in the back. Tears spilled over. My voice broke. “You know I’d rather see her dead. What did I ever do to you, Ethan? Why does it have to be her?”

Ethan’s patience finally snapped. “Ella, that’s ancient history! You can’t blame Chloe for your mother’s death. She was just a kid.” “If anyone’s to blame, it’s your mother. She just couldn’t handle it. Giving up was her choice.” My vision blurred. I stared in shock at the man who swore to protect me. How could he say something so cruel? I slapped him hard across the face. I knew then that we were done for good. “We’re over.” The slap shattered his calm facade. He glared at me. “I am so sick of this, Ella! Why are you always so damn obsessive? Why can’t you just let this go? Your mother has been dead for ten years! Ten years of you wallowing in your own hate! You make yourself miserable, and you drag everyone else down with you!” “Your father didn’t love her anymore! If she had just signed the divorce papers, things wouldn’t have gotten so ugly. Her own bitterness killed her. You can’t blame anyone else!”

Hearing him trash my mother, I snapped like an enraged lioness. I lunged at him, swinging my fists blindly. “Shut up! Don’t you dare talk about my mother!” “Those two bitches put her in the ground! They stole my life! They ruined everything!” Smack. He hit me so hard I went down. The glass table split my forehead open. Warm blood trickled down my cheek. Fear and regret flooded his eyes. He rushed forward to help me up. “Oh my god, Ella… I’m so sorry. I was just so mad. I didn’t mean to. I’ll take you to the hospital right now. You’re going to be okay, just don’t panic.” His terrified eyes made me gasp. For a second, he was my Ethan again. After my mom died, my life in that blended family was hell. My father couldn’t care less about me. Chloe and her mother made it their mission to break me. In those dark days, Ethan was my only lifeline. He once brought a baseball bat to my house to scare them off. He took months of grounding without a single complaint. Remembering all that… I wanted to give him one last chance. I looked up at him, begging. “Ethan… please. Just don’t be with Chloe. Okay?” Ethan flinched. He opened his mouth to speak. But the phone buzzed at the worst moment. A familiar voice came through the speaker: “Ethan! My mom found out about us! She’s cutting off my cards and kicking me out! You have to come save me!”

With a dramatic sob, the line went dead. Ethan bolted upright. His rush knocked me back down. He didn’t even notice. The worry in his eyes was another knife to my chest. I stayed on the ground, gripping his leg. “Ethan, don’t go. Please.” He peeled my hand off. His face was a mess of guilt and panic. “Ella, get an Uber to urgent care and get that checked out. Chloe needs me. I have to go.” Without a backward glance, he was gone. I let out a bitter laugh, letting the blood drip onto the spotless floor. Drop by drop. Chloe’s mother stole my mom’s husband. Now, Chloe was stealing mine. But I was not my mother. I refused to throw my life away for a man. A while later, my phone pinged. A friend request. The profile picture was Chloe. She was in my Vera Wang, kissing Ethan. They looked sickeningly in love. To see what her little game was, I hit accept. She didn’t text a single word. Just sent a video. In the video, Ethan was making a promise to Chloe’s mother. “Ma’am, I swear I’ll never let Chloe down. I’ll give her the most spectacular wedding this city has ever seen.”

“But I keep hearing Ella lives in your penthouse. You aren’t… legally married, are you? My daughter will not be some homewrecker.” Ethan clarified. “Ella and I have zero legal ties. She had nowhere to go, so I let her crash. She’s basically just a live-in maid.” “If it bothers Chloe, I’ll kick her out tonight.” The video cut to black. The wedding and the public acknowledgment I begged for? He handed them to her like it was nothing. Six years in the shadows, I was just a “maid” with “zero ties.” Ethan buried our childhood love with his own hands. Fine. Then we’re done. I dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. “Aunt Catherine. Your offer… I’m in.” The next morning, Ethan walked in with breakfast. He wore the same groveling smile as last night. “Ella, I waited in line just for this. Your favorite. Blueberry muffin and an oat milk latte. Come eat.” I am allergic to blueberries. But Chloe? These were her favorite.

Years ago, Chloe found out about my allergy. She spiked my food with blueberry jam. My throat closed up. I broke out in hives. I nearly went into anaphylactic shock. And yet, she went crying to my dad, claiming I was being “greedy.” My dad screamed at me first. Took me to the ER second. When Ethan and I got together, he swore off blueberries to protect me. The fruit was banned from our apartment. And now, he forgot. I smacked the muffin out of his hand. Ethan’s jaw tightened. “Ella, I bought you breakfast to apologize. What more do you want from me?” I looked him dead in the eye. “I’m allergic to blueberries.” It finally clicked. A flash of guilt crossed his face. “Sorry, I was in a rush this morning. I forgot. What do you want? I’ll go back.” “Don’t bother. You remembered Chloe’s favorite just fine.” My mockery hit a nerve. His face hardened. “Drop the attitude. Look at our circle. What guy in my position actually stays faithful?” “Six years, and I’ve only ever stepped out with Chloe. You should be grateful. At least I gave you the title of being a Hayes’s.” I froze. I couldn’t believe he’d say something so disgusting. Caught red-handed, with no remorse. Expecting me to look the other way like a good little girlfriend. Pure insanity. Was I supposed to be grateful to be his dirty little secret? And just let him cheat?

Taking my silence as surrender, he softened his tone. “Good girl. You’re smart. You know what’s best for you.” “I already promised Chloe’s mother a wedding. Her mom would destroy her if I backed out. But don’t worry—you’ll always be the special one to me.” “My estate on Long Island is ready. It’s quiet. Just lay low there while I handle the wedding. I’ll visit you all the time, I swear.” He finally said it. I looked straight at him. “No need. We’re—” Before I could even finish, he cut me off. “Oh, save it, Ella. Who else do you even have? Stop acting tough.” “I’m running late. Pack your things and head over.” I shook my head and started packing in silence. Erasing every trace of my existence in this place. I pulled out my phone to book a moving van. Then, a message popped up.

A scanned copy of a marriage certificate. The two people on it were Ethan and Chloe. With shaking hands, I dug out my own “marriage certificate.” I held them side by side. My legs completely gave out. Real certificates had City Hall’s embossed seal and the clerk’s signature. The one in my hands had nothing. Just a forged piece of trash. We were never married. All those times he called me “his woman,” “his wife”? It was all a sick joke. I laughed until I cried. The man who protected me since childhood trapped me in a lie for six damn years. “You know why Ethan faked that certificate?” Chloe stepped out, smirking. “Because you’re not good enough for him. So he hid you away. Never brought you around friends or family. If anyone asked? You were nothing but a free maid.” “Ella, your mother couldn’t beat mine. And you sure as hell can’t beat me.” She grabbed me by the collar. Pure malice in her eyes. “Don’t you hate homewreckers? Take a look at yourself. You’re the dirty little secret! You’re the mistress!”

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I signed my new lease and hit “send” on the email to Damian. The wedding is off. An auto-reply hit my inbox. Noted. Olivia choked on her champagne. “That’s it? The invites go out next week!” “A cold email?” “My last breakup took three months of lawyers!” I swirled the Burgundy. “He didn’t even read it. His AI filters his inbox.” I pushed my phone to her. A sea of blue checkmarks. Years of long texts. His only reply? Received. I thought I was numb. Until last night. I found his private iPad. Unlocked. There was a sixty-second voice memo. Played all the way through. In that moment, the delicate scale I had spent eight years trying to balance finally shattered. …… Damian was asleep beside me. The screen lit up my face. I opened our chat. Rows of unplayed voice notes. Red dots. A tear slipped down my cheek. Damian hated inefficiency. Voice memos were a waste of time. Long texts were too emotional. Over the years, I learned to swallow it. But that sixty-second memo? It was from Chloe Vance. It cut me straight to the bone. His so-called “top-tier business partner.” They talked market trends. They chased the next big thing. Wrapped in Wall Street jargon. Their chat history was a hundred times longer than ours. He didn’t hate texting. He just didn’t love me. Damian shifted in the dark. His heavy arm pulled me against his chest. “Baby…” “Come here.”

I didn’t move. He smelled like cedar and expensive leather. That scent used to calm me down. Now it just broke my heart. Even in his sleep, he reached for me. I wanted to shake him awake. I wanted a screaming match worthy of our eight years. But I was just too tired. Lying right in his arms, this king-size bed never felt so empty. …… The next day, I called a broker. Two weeks later, I signed a lease for a loft in Soho. Damian never noticed a thing. He even kissed my forehead while I was on the phone with the movers. His mind was already on his board meeting. After dinner with Olivia, I went back to our Upper East Side penthouse. His family bought it for our wedding. I didn’t need to come back today. I already packed up all my things. I only left behind the expensive jewelry he gave me. But I wanted to see it for myself. Damian could spot a market shift in seconds. I wanted to see how long it took him to realize his fiancée was gone. The front door clicked open. Damian strolled in, casually loosening his cufflinks. “You’re home early.” No panic. No questions. He never even opened the email.

I opened my mouth, but the words died in my throat. “What? Is Jean-Georges canceled?” He frowned at the empty dining table. Every Tuesday, I booked his favorite Michelin-starred restaurant. I just stared at him in silence. Damian dropped his briefcase. He walked straight into his home office. Through the heavy oak door, I heard him typing. Then came the low murmur of a phone call. I knew it was Chloe. We used to fight about her all the time. He always turned it around on me. “Ava, we share a bed every night.” “If it’s a real emergency, call my assistant.” “Chloe is different. We have a nine-figure deal on the table.” “You want me to lose millions just to babysit your feelings?” His ‘Wall Street efficiency’ was a weapon. It always shut me up. I rubbed my temples and retreated to the bedroom. When I came back out, the private chef was finishing up.  There was only one plate on the long dining table. He didn’t even order for me.

I gripped the back of the empty chair. “Why is there only one plate?” Damian didn’t even look up from his files. “You’re eating?” “I thought you were strictly on your pre-wedding diet.” If he had looked at me for one more second, he would have seen my tears. He didn’t look up. His eyes stayed glued to the pages. I pulled out the chair across from him. “Damian, we need to talk.” Before I even sat down, he was already on his feet. He grabbed his suit jacket. “No time.” “Chloe and I have a charity gala preview.” “We’re already late.” The heavy front door slammed shut. I was left alone with his cold steak and an empty chair. The silence in our Central Park penthouse was deafening. Then, a faint voice drifted from his home office. His AirPods lay abandoned on the desk. Still connected to his open laptop. Chloe’s voice leaked from the tiny earpieces. “Are we going to the Monaco F1 Grand Prix next month?” “I’ve been dying to go!” Then came Damian’s recorded reply. “Already on it.” “I secured VIP passes last week.” “It was supposed to be a surprise.” Chloe’s giggles filled the room. “You know me better than anyone!” Every single word hit me like a freight train. For Chloe, he planned weeks ahead. For Chloe, he planned surprises. For me, I only ever got his favorite excuse. “She’s a partner. You’re my fiancée. It’s different.” If this was what being his wife meant… I’d rather be a stranger.

Footsteps echoed. Damian walked right back in for his AirPods. He froze when he saw my face.  Beep. The call disconnected. He lunged to kill the audio. Too late. He frowned in confusion. “What’s with that look?” “Ava, are you losing your mind again?” “We have a fitting at Vera Wang tomorrow at 10 AM.” “Did you forget?” My voice was razor-sharp. I barely recognized it. Damian rubbed his temples. “I’m flying out with Chloe tomorrow.” “We have a meeting with a European fund manager.” “The tickets are booked.” He didn’t even pause to think. “It’s just a dress, Ava.” “Go by yourself. Don’t you trust my taste?” “Or take Olivia.” In one second, he replaced me. A once-in-a-lifetime wedding dress? Totally useless. Networking with his “partner”? Top priority. “No.” I didn’t blink. Damian stared at the stock charts on his screen. Chloe’s voice still nagged through his earpiece. He finally lost his patience. “Ava Sterling! Can I have my own career?” “Do I have to revolve around you 24/7 just because we’re getting married?” Revolve around me? A bitter laugh escaped. He was unreachable all day. His nights belonged to Chloe and their conference calls. Every detail of our wedding was dumped on me. My time is money. You handle the little things. That was his favorite excuse. His world was packed with VIPs and big deals. I was just background noise in his grand blueprint. I looked at him. My chest was hollow. “Damian.” “Am I the only one getting married here?”

“You’re being dramatic.” He slipped his AirPods back in and turned his back on me. “God, women are exhausting.” He muttered into the mic. “Thank god you’re not high-maintenance, Chloe.” Chloe’s crisp laughter echoed through the room. We met at an NYU alumni gala. Back then, he actually made time for me. He skipped networking events just to walk with me by the Hudson River. He bought a twenty-thousand-dollar painting at the gallery just because I glanced at it. But he set his boundaries from day one. “I hate inefficiency.” “Texts and calls need a clear purpose.” “I am like this with everyone.” I bought that excuse for eight years. Then I saw his chat with Chloe. They sent endless paragraphs. They shared inside jokes. Their messages were full of pure warmth. I saw his comments under every single one of her LinkedIn posts. His words were always perfectly supportive. He stayed up at 2 AM discussing life philosophy with her. He never shared a single moment of vulnerability with me. It was like a needle to the chest. It slowly chipped away at me every single day. That night, Damian never came to bedroom. He locked himself in his office until sunrise.

The next morning, I stuck a post-it note right on his Wall Street Journal. Vera Wang. 10 AM. We need to talk. AI could filter his emails. He could ignore my voice notes. But he couldn’t miss black ink on white paper. I forgot one thing. He didn’t miss it. He just didn’t care. I sat alone in the VIP suite at Vera Wang. Happy couples walked in and out all day. The staff refilled my sparkling water five times. Finally, the boutique director walked in. “Miss Sterling… we’re closing up for the night.” The pity in her eyes was humiliating. I walked home numb. I refreshed Chloe’s Instagram over and over again. Her latest post went up thirty minutes ago. Another huge win! Time to celebrate. The photo showed a high-end sushi bar. In the corner of the frame was a man’s hand holding a sake cup. A limited-edition Patek Philippe wrapped around his wrist. Damian. Moving out was my final test. This was the final straw. I was done. Right below our apartment building was a jazz club we used to frequent. Through the dim light, I saw a familiar silhouette. He had his back to me. Chloe sat across from him, laughing brightly. She spotted me first. Damian finally turned around. The loud jazz music faded out. A dead silence suffocated our table. “Ava! Oh my god, sit down!” Chloe patted the empty seat next to her. “How was the fitting?” “I bet the dress looked stunning on you!” She flashed a bright, plastic smile.

Damian’s knuckles turned white around his whiskey glass. He didn’t wait for me to speak. He flagged down the waiter. “We need another dozen oysters.” “Truffle fries.” “And the mango mousse.” He was guilty. This was his way of smoothing things over. The dessert arrived quickly. He pushed the plate toward me. “Eat up. Their mango mousse is amazing.” I stared at the yellow pastry. I didn’t move a muscle. Damian frowned in confusion. “What’s wrong?” “You love mangoes.” Chloe let out an obnoxious giggle. “Damian, you’re terrible at this!” “I’m the one obsessed with mangoes!” Damian rubbed his temples. A rare flash of embarrassment crossed his face. “Sorry, Ava. I mixed it up.” He didn’t mix it up. He just never cared. I planned every detail of our eight years together. He never had to try. But he didn’t just forget my favorite food. He forgot one crucial detail. I am deathly allergic to mangoes. I picked up the silver spoon. I scooped up a large piece of the mousse. I locked eyes with Damian, my fork trembling, and took the bite. They watched me in stunned silence. I finished the entire plate. By midnight, I was rushed to the ER. Anaphylactic shock. I woke up to the harsh fluorescent lights. Damian was gripping the edge of my hospital bed. Panic washed over his face. “Dammit, Ava!” “I forgot you were allergic!”

His guilt finally caught up to him. He canceled a week’s worth of meetings just to sit by my hospital bed. Suddenly, he was the flawless fiancé. “Your husband is amazing.” The nurse smiled enviously. Damian was adjusting my pillows. I watched him fuss over me. I felt nothing. Amazing? If he was amazing, I wouldn’t be in this bed. Through three hours of IV drips, he never left my side. He didn’t touch his phone once. On the drive home, something finally clicked in his brain. “You left a note yesterday.” “You said we needed to talk.” “What was it about?” My hand froze on the seatbelt. He saw the note. He remembered it all along. I shook my head and clicked the belt into place. “It’s nothing.” There was nothing left to say. We stepped out of the elevator. Chloe was waiting right outside our penthouse door. Damian’s face filled with regret. “Chloe, I’m so sorry.” “I completely forgot our project review.” Chloe pouted, playing the perfect victim. “You ignored my texts.” “My calls went straight to voicemail.” “I thought something terrible happened to you!” “So… are we still working?” Damian looked back at me. He was completely torn. I ignored him and walked inside. Damian followed me in. He kept his voice low. “Let me get you settled in bed.” “Chloe and I will do a quick meeting in the office.” “We won’t make a sound.” Chloe slipped inside right behind him. I looked at them with dead eyes. “Suit yourself.”

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For three years, Kael and I were bonded. To the entire Blackrock wolf pack, he was the icon of loyalty. After every hunt, he made a grand public display. He’d carve out the heart of the kill and present it to me. Declaring in the Old Tongue: “For my fated mate.” I always accepted, playing my part in the charade. The powerful mate, cherished by our future Alpha. It was all a beautiful lie. In three years, his most romantic gesture? He brushed my black and shiny fur in my wolf form, once, during a full moon. That was the extent of his private devotion. That all changed on the day we were meant to move. Into the new den, built for the future Alpha couple. In his stone chest of old texts, I found a journal. It was bound in animal hide, ancient and worn. Every page was filled with delicate wolf runes. Detailing rituals, moonlight intensity, and herbal remedies. The handwriting was gentle, full of care. Nothing like his usual harsh, forceful script. “Seraphina can’t stand Sunfire Herb. Grind the moonstone to powder for her. The ritual water must be pristine, no trace of blood.” My hands trembled as I flipped to the last entry. The date was the third blood moon after our bonding. I remembered that night vividly. A piece of silver had burned my skin. My fever was so high, I could barely hold my human form. I sent him three desperate mindlink pleas. He told me he was patrolling the pack borders. But his journal told a different story. “She wanted a soul-soothing moon bath today. I channeled lunar energy for her for three hours. She was so happy.” I slowly closed the book and placed it back exactly where I found it. The movers asked where the stone chest should go in our new den. My voice was perfectly calm when I answered. “Leave it. He can have it. Along with this entire den.” After his patrol, his voice echoed in my mental link. “I’ve seen the new den, Ella. The perch is the perfect height. I can watch over you so much better from there.” A cold smile touched my lips. I sent one final message before severing our link forever. “Don’t bother. My name isn’t in your ritual journal.” … “You touched my rune journal?” Kael stormed in, his brow knotted in fury. The journal in animal hide lay open on the stone table between us. I just sat on the fur rug, watching his chest heave from his frantic sprint back here. “I was looking for a territory scroll,” I said, my voice flat. “Happened to see it by accident.” His eyes flickered to the journal, his tone shifting to annoyed pity. “That’s just some healing rituals I jotted down for a fragile friend, ages ago. Is that why you sent that insane message? Threatening to sever our bond over this?” He stepped closer, reaching to wrap his arms around me. That familiar gesture he used to claim his property. I recoiled from his touch. “Jotted down?” I locked my eyes onto his. “Every page notes the exact phase of the moon. The herbal doses are measured to the last grain. It even says she hates the smell of Sunfire Herb. That the ritual water must be the first snowmelt from the highest peak.” I slid the journal right across the table to him. “So you tell me, Kael. Which ‘friend’ earns three years of your life? A whole book of healing rituals, written only for her?”

Kael’s hand froze mid-air. The warmth in his eyes turned to ice. “Ella, are you seriously picking a fight right now? I am drowning in pack business, and I still made time to plan our new home. I’m focused on our future, on securing our status as the Alpha pair. And you’re in here, digging up old ghosts.” His voice dripped with the false sting of being wronged. If I hadn’t seen the date on that final page… I would have caved, just like I always did. I would have apologized for daring to question his loyalty. But not this time. “The last page,” I said, cutting through his performance. “The date was the day that silver burned me, the day I was consumed by fever. I sent you three mindlinks for help. You told me you were fighting rogue wolves at the border. But your journal says you spent three hours with her. Channeling moonlight to heal her ‘soul wounds’.” His jaw tightened as he saw it. He opened his mouth, scrambling for another lie. But a soft sound came from the den’s entrance. Seraphina drifted in, a pouch of rare herbs in her hand. Her gaze fell on the open journal, and her eyes flickered. “Kael… you promised me she would never find out.”

So this journal was their little secret. And I, the “fated mate,” was the only one in the dark. Kael shot to his feet and went straight to her. “What are you doing here? I told you to wait for me.” All the anger in his voice vanished, replaced by a gentle murmur. “My chest started to hurt…” Seraphina whispered, head bowed. “I was worried you couldn’t find the right herbs, so I brought them.” She held out the small pouch. His brow creased with worry. “The pain is back? Did you absorb the moonlight today?” He looked down at her, his eyes swimming with concern. I watched them, lost in their own little world. A world of primal, protective instinct that didn’t include me. I’d seen enough. I stood and walked to the mouth of the den. “Ella, where are you going?” Kael finally snapped back to reality, his head whipping towards me. “Hunting,” I said, brushing past them both. I pushed aside the curtain of vines at the entrance. “Can you stop?” His hand shot out, clamping down on my wrist. “Seraphina’s old injury is flaring up. I’m taking her back to heal. We will talk about this later.” He said it like I was the one in the wrong. His eyes blazed with blame. I stared down at his hand on my wrist. Then, slowly, deliberately, I ripped my arm free. “Fine.” I took a step back, out of the den’s shadows. The cool moonlight washed over me. Seraphina finally lifted her gaze to meet mine. Her eyes were wide, her voice trembling and small. “Ella… if I’m getting in the way, I’ll go.”

I stared at Seraphina’s carefully crafted innocent face, saying nothing. The look on Kael’s face turned to thunder. “Why are you looking at her like that?” he snarled. “She’s fragile. She can’t handle your oppressive aura.” He physically shielded her with his body. “I’m not doing anything.” My voice was ice. “I’m making room for you two.” I turned without another word and vaulted from the rock, melting into the deep woods. Kael didn’t follow me. But just as the darkness swallowed me whole… My wolf hearing caught his low, soothing voice. “Don’t mind her. She just gets like this. It’ll blow over.” So that’s all my anger was to him. Cheap and meaningless. I sat by the creek at the edge of our territory for hours. I only went back after I sensed his presence leave her den. He was returning to our home. Pushing back the vines, I found the den silent. The journal on the table was gone, of course. I went to the inner chamber to wash my hands. And my eyes snagged on something new by the basin. It was a small pendant, carved from moonstone. I only wear obsidian. This one reeked of her scent. I stared at it for a long, cold moment. Back in the main room, I sat on the fur rug. And there, caught in the fibers, was a single strand of silver-white hair. My fur is jet black. I pinched the hair between my fingers. My gaze fell on the Echo Crystal. “Show me today,” I commanded in a low whisper. A blue light swirled to life inside the stone. An image flickered, and Seraphina’s voice filled the silence. “Kael, this wall hanging is so dark. Let’s get a moon-colored one instead.” Then came his reply, his voice thick with a sickening fondness. “Alright. Whatever makes you happy.” I watched the memory fade. There was no tearing pain in my chest. Just a cold, primal fury. The feeling of my territory being invaded. This wasn’t a recent betrayal. She had been seeping into our life, our home. Poisoning everything, drop by drop.

Kael came back late into the night. He was holding a freshly killed snow rabbit. My favorite. “Caught it for you while passing the cedar grove,” he said. His voice dripped with condescension as he unbuckled his gear. “Look, about today… I was out of line. I shouldn’t have snapped.” He moved closer, trying to dissolve the tension in the air. “Seraphina has no one else in this pack, Ella. I just look out for her sometimes. You shouldn’t read so much into it.” I stared at his face, a mask of false sincerity. “What herbs did you use on it?” I asked. He blinked, thrown by the sudden question. Then he smiled. “Rosemary. Your favorite, of course.” My eyes drifted to the perfectly cleaned rabbit. “I’m allergic to rosemary, Kael.” The air in the den went dead silent. His hand froze on his belt buckle, panic flashing in his eyes. “I… I must have gotten them mixed up. I wasn’t thinking.” He tried to sound casual, but the confidence was gone from his voice. “You didn’t get them mixed up,” I said, rising to my feet. I looked straight into his eyes. “You mistook her favorite for mine.” He swallowed hard, his gaze darting away. He reached for the rabbit. “Fine, my mistake. I’ll toss it and hunt you a new one tomorrow.” He just wanted to make it all go away. “Don’t,” I said, stopping him cold. Kael paused, turning back to face me. “So when you’re out ‘patrolling’… Are you really just visiting her den?”

Kael threw the rabbit on the ground. “Ella, what the hell do you want?” His jaw was tight, his eyes burning into me. “I already said I was sorry. Are you going to crucify me over one mistake?” “One mistake?” I let the words hang in the air. “So bringing another female wolf’s things into our den… forcing her preferences on me… that’s just one mistake?” I pulled out the moonstone pendant and slapped it down on the stone table. “Then whose is this?” Kael’s eyes darted to the pendant, then away. “Seraphina must have left it. She stayed over once.” “Stayed over?” A cold, humorless laugh escaped my lips. “When was she staying over? Why didn’t I know?” He dragged a hand through his hair in frustration. “While you were at the Mountain Alliance summit. Her den flooded. She just needed a place for two nights. It was two nights! Why are you interrogating me like a criminal?” He sounded so offended. Like I was the one being unreasonable. I turned my back on him. I walked into our chamber and dragged my pack from under the bed. Kael followed right behind me. The color drained from his face when he saw it. “What are you doing?” He lunged forward, his hand clamping down on my pack. “Packing.” I brushed his hand off, my voice dangerously calm. “Don’t you dare threaten to walk out on me, Ella!” His voice cracked, jumping an octave. “We are about to move into the new Alpha den! Who is this little show for?” I ignored him, opening my chest. I began laying out my armor and weapons, piece by piece. “Answer me!” He grabbed my shoulders, whipping me around to face him. “I already explained. She’s like a sister to me!” “What kind of sister mindlinks her brother in the dead of night for ‘comfort’?” I stared right through him. “What kind of sister gets to redecorate our future home?”

For a moment, Kael was speechless. He let his hands fall, taking a full step back. I ignored him and went back to my packing. Then I pulled open a drawer and found a folded blueprint. I unrolled the plans for our new den. The margins were covered in notes, scrawled in red berry ink. “Lower the resting platform by three feet.” “Move the water channel closer to the Moon Well.” “Custom-build the weapon rack to this design.” A shopping list was attached to the back. A pale green moss carpet. Bowls with tiny, burned-in flowers. And a warming nest, for a sick pup. I despise green and never use patterned things. I certainly don’t need a warming nest. This was all hers. All for Seraphina. I shoved the blueprint right in his face. “So this is you planning our future, thinking all the time about how to take care of me?” Kael paled as he stared at the red ink. “The builders got it wrong. I just haven’t fixed it yet.” He was still lying. And his excuses were getting pathetic. I threw the plans into the fire pit. “Kael. Who is this new den really for?” He took a deep breath, his eyes turning to ice. “Ella, don’t make this ugly.”

“What is it you want to say?” I stopped what I was doing, watching him. Kael pointed to the blueprints curling into ash in the fire. “I earned this den defending our borders in the last raid. I’m the one overseeing its construction. Seraphina gave me a few suggestions. That’s it. Who are you to stand there and question me?” A laugh escaped my lips, cold and full of rage. So that’s how he saw it. I didn’t even have the right to an opinion about my own home. “Fine.” I nodded, pulling the leather straps of my pack tight. “The den is yours. The credit is yours. And Seraphina is yours. I’m giving it all back.” I grabbed my pack and started for the entrance. Kael blocked my path. “Today is our bonding anniversary.” He was barely holding onto his temper, playing his last emotional card to make me stay. “I’ve already prepared the Oath Hunt. For the Shadow Panther you’ve always wanted. We complete the ritual, seal our bond with its blood… And we put this all behind us. Okay?” He laid out my future like it was a gift he was granting me. Just then, the comms crystal on his belt lit up. A unique pulse. It was Seraphina.

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Eight figures! Thanks to my dad’s VC fund, that’s what my startup, Aetheria, was worth after I graduated. I’m a total tech geek, always hated networking and public speaking. So I pushed my boyfriend, Leo, to be the face of the company. Big mistake. The charismatic CEO. He has been playing that part to the outside world ever since. Over time, his ego spiraled out of control. He actually believes this company can’t function without him. All of a sudden, he calls an emergency board meeting. Saying it’s for “Corporate restructuring.” He sidelines me to the very edge of the boardroom table. He begins talking about his major blueprint. Then he turns the entire table against me. Armed with a flashy pitch deck, he plays the righteous hero. “Board members, as harsh as this may sound, I propose the immediate termination of our co-founder and CTO — Miss Chloe Sterling.” “Her long-time absence from critical pitches brings zero value to our market growth, which makes her Aetheria’s biggest liability.” “To put it bluntly, she’s holding us back!” “I will bring in a new tech partner to take us to the next level.” Then, he leans down, whispering with toxic satisfaction: “Babe, once the board votes you out, your equity will be diluted to nothing.” “This company is mine to take now. Just sit back and be a good little trophy wife.” I stare at him, unfazed. Then, I open my laptop and mirror my screen to the projector. “You think I’m just a clueless nerdy girl you can step on?” “I just didn’t want all those networking, and you’ve been my free puppet. Did you seriously think you call the shots at Aetheria?” … The smug smirk vanishes from Leo’s face. He stares at the screen, completely frozen. He’s looking at a bulletproof, super-voting Founder’s Agreement, signed in red ink by my father — Julian Sterling. The new tech guy waiting to replace me turns ghostly pale. “How… how do you actually have super-voting power? Even your damn emails had to be handled by your assistant!” Mr. Harvey, my dad’s general counsel and a board member himself, adjusts his gold-rimmed glasses, dropping the hammer. “Miss Sterling owns the exclusive patents to every single core algorithm of Aetheria.” “Furthermore, under the Series A terms, her Golden Shares grant her absolute veto power over the entire board.” Mr. Harvey hands me a stack of documents, then shoots Leo a death glare. “Mr. Martinez, what do you think you’re doing? Is this board a joke to you?” “You colluded with outsiders to dilute a core founder’s equity.” “This is corporate fraud! You’ve breached your fiduciary duties!” “I can strip you of every asset, every stock option, and ruin your career before dinner!”

Leo’s so scared his knees go weak. He slams his laptop shut, instantly groveling to Mr. Harvey. “Mr. Harvey, it’s a misunderstanding! Chloe was never interested in our operations, I just thought… Just take it as a couple’s quarrel, please, ignore us!” “Couple’s quarrel? Is this a joke to you?” I cut him off, cold as ice. I stand up, walk straight to the head of the table, and slam my laptop down. “Your office keys. Corporate AmEx. Hand them over.” Leo clutches his suit pocket, his face turning ashen, refusing my order. “Chloe, please don’t make a scene, okay? The board is watching! At least show me some respect!” He drops his voice, adding a pathetic edge of threat. “Aetheria is scaling fast now. We’re at the key stage of expansion. Those VCs only recognize my face!” “You’re just a tech girl behind the scenes. What do you know about closing multi-million dollar deals?” “Be a good wife. Let me stay on as CEO. I promise I won’t use the board against you again.” I almost laugh out loud at his sheer, shameless audacity. “Those investors show up for my father, Julian Sterling, not you.” “You are just a broke gold-digger who mooches off my credit card.” “Who do you think you are?” I don’t even blink, nodding directly to the Head of Security. “Throw him out.” Leo is caught off guard. Two muscular security guards drag him out of the room like a bag of trash. Out in the hallway, the entire office erupts into whispers, everyone pointing fingers at him. His fragile ego shatters. Feeling totally humiliated, he thrashes around like a maniac, screaming at the glass doors: “Chloe Sterling! Don’t push your luck! You’re just a woman who doesn’t know any business! You wanna be the CEO? What a joke!” “Fire me today, and you’ll be begging on your knees for me to pitch your investors again! And I won’t say yes!” I don’t even give him a second glance. I take my rightful seat as CEO at the head of the table, making my announcement to the board. “Sorry, everyone. Let’s continue. Agenda number one: Immediate termination of Leo Martinez from all duties at Aetheria.”

I spin my leather chair around, coldly watching him get dragged away. “Free puppets are a dime a dozen. That backstabbing jerk had his chance. He won’t touch a single dollar of this company for the rest of his life.” I press the intercom button, my voice echoing across the entire executive floor: “Freeze all corporate access for Leo Martinez immediately. Revoke his keycard. As of today, this man has zero affiliation with Aetheria.” Early the next morning, the intercom to my penthouse wouldn’t stop buzzing. The second I crack the door open, Leo’s mother, Mrs. Martinez, pushes her way inside like a hurricane, plopping down on my Hermès sofa. Leo trails in behind her, sulking. “Chloe, you’ve got some nerve! Hiding the Golden Shares from our Leo this whole time? Are you treating my son like a thief?? He’s your boyfriend, for god’s sake!” Mrs. Martinez glares at me, her voice dripping with venom. “Well, since you’re officially the CEO now, I guess that works. Just assign Leo a personal chauffeur for his commute. It’s the least you can do as his fiancée.”

Did I hear that right? I lean against the wall, staring at this mother-son duo in disbelief. “Get him a personal chauffeur?” “You heard me.” Mrs. Martinez rolls her eyes, shamelessly dropping her real demand. “Oh, and, Leo’s younger brother has an interview on Wall Street next month. Hand him back the CEO title tomorrow.” “That way, his brother can put it on his resume. Having a sibling as the CEO of a unicorn company. It looks good on paper.” “Besides, you’re a young girl. Parading around in a room full of men? People will think you slept your way to the top! This company needs to be run by the Martinez family!” Is she hearing herself? She’s actually talking to me like that? Instead of stopping her, Leo takes a step forward, putting on his usual hypocritical mask. “Chloe, my mom may be harsh on words, but she has a point. An eight-figure company is way too much for a woman to handle.” “I’m the only one who can hit the golf course with those high-rollers as CEO. Only then will people see us as a real powerhouse, and close the big deals. It’s for our own good. Don’t you think?”

His shameless face makes my stomach turn. “Did you forget to take your meds before going out today? What century are you living in?” I stand up straight, staring them down coldly. “My dad funded this company, and my code built it. Wanna pad your deadbeat brother’s resume with my company? You Martinez family… I can smell the desperation from a mile away.” Mrs. Martinez snaps, jumping up from the couch, shoving her finger directly in my face, screaming: “How dare you talk to me like that, you little brat! You’re getting married sooner or later. We’ll share the same fortune anyway!” “In your dreams, you old hag!” I smack her hand out of my face, walk straight to the entrance, ripping the door open for them. “Now, get the hell out of my house! Or I will have security throw you both out like homeless trespassers.” Leo’s face contorts with rage, his teeth clenched as he glares at me. “Chloe Sterling, don’t push it too far! It’s just a title. Why are you treating me like the enemy?” “Did I not make myself clear?” I pull out my phone, dialing the front desk number immediately. “Hello, security? This is Penthouse A. I have two psychopaths trespassing in my place…” Seeing that I’m getting serious, Mrs. Martinez panics, grabbing Leo’s arm and cursing at me as they back out the door. “You’ll pay for this! You cheap bitch! Leo is going to dump you anyway!” I slam the heavy door shut, locking out the toxicity of that pathetic family. Leaning against the door, I replay replay Leo’s frantic, unhinged desperation in my head. My brows slowly knit together out of suspicion.

Something feels off. Leo is obsessed with his image. He usually plays the sophisticated gentleman in front of outsiders. But today? First, he tried a board coup, and now he lets his mom barge into my house to strong-arm me. His obsession with this company is getting way out of hand. Why is he so desperate to steal the company from me? What dirty business exactly is he pulling behind my back? To find out what he’s really up to, I head straight to the company data center early the next morning. When I first built our internal comm system, I left a master-access for myself. So I can pull every server log and recording backup — including Leo’s internal office lines. I trusted him so blindly that I never bothered to look at his logs before. I pull up his call history and surveillance footage from the past month. The progress bar loads. A whiny, high-pitched voice echoes from the speakers. “Leo, you are so impressive. When we merge next month, I wanna be co-CEO!” In the video, a woman caked in makeup is leaning against the desk in Leo’s former office, adjusting his tie while flirting. Leo holds a glass of scotch in one hand, while his other hand slides around her waist, like he’s done it a thousand times. He’s grinning like he owns the world. “Not just a merge, babe. What’s mine is yours. I built this eight-figure powerhouse from scratch. It’ll all belong to our kids someday.” Those words make my blood run cold. My knuckles turn white against the mouse.

The timestamp on the footage is last Friday night. That night, Leo texted me saying there was an urgent PR matter, that he had to pull an all-nighter, and told me not to wait up for him. Now I realize it. His “all-nighter” was all about bringing that bitch into my office, plotting to steal my life’s work! I’ve always preferred to keep a low profile. Throughout my four years at college, basic hoodies and ordinary backpacks were my everyday outfit. I also kept a complete secret about my dad. That he is the VC tycoon, Julian Sterling. Leo always believed I was just some clueless nerd with a knack for coding, that the company’s success depended entirely on his business brilliance. Now I see through him. This toxic leech didn’t just look down on me as a “tech geek” — He didn’t just use me as a stepping stone, he was out there hunting for a real heiress to fund his lifestyle! The video keeps playing: That woman suddenly spots my sketchbook sitting on Leo’s desk. “Leo, what is this childish graffiti? You’re not seeing another woman besides me, are you?” she whines. Leo doesn’t even miss a beat. He snatches the sketchbook and shoves it straight into the shredder.. That’s countless hours of my inspiration! “Don’t even mention it. Just some intern. She’s desperate for a full-time offer, so she drew this garbage to suck up to me. That girl reeks of poverty. If you ask me? She’s just disgusting.” “An intern?” That woman giggles. “Leo, don’t play the nice guy. If it were me, I’d just fire her already.” Leo leans in, planting a hard kiss on her cheek. “Right after our merge, she’ll be gone.” Suddenly, my phone pings. A security alert. Someone just unlocked my penthouse door. I quickly switch over to my penthouse security feed. It’s Leo. He thinks I’m out. Using the spare keycard I gave him, he slips inside the apartment. I watch through the screen as he heads straight for my study, ransacking the safe where I keep my important files. Looks like he’s done this many times before, too. Finally, his fingers wrap around the encrypted hard drive, which contains the master backup of Aetheria’s entire source code. A sick grin spreads across his face. He actually kisses the drive. Then he shoves it into his briefcase, rushing out the door.

I trusted him so much, and he uses the spare keycard I gave him to steal my source code! Watching him walk out on the security feed, I pick up my phone with a cold smile. I was going to let him walk away with some dignity, but he had to play a corporate spy. Now I’ll just put him behind the bars in a federal prison. I open the tracking app on my phone. The red dot is moving fast. He’s heading straight for Coleman Capital—another VC giant on Wall Street.. I follow the GPS tracking all the way to their top-floor boardroom. Perks of being a Sterling — the lobby security recognized my name and waved me through the private elevator. As soon as I push the door open, I spot Leo. He has his arms around that woman from the footage, while lounging in the head seat with his legs crossed. “Mr. Coleman, take a look at the technical architecture. Perfect, isn’t it?” Leo is bragging arrogantly, swirling a glass of champagne. “Honestly, if not for my engagement with Isabella and our merging plan, I’d never share core tech of this caliber.” “So, do we have a deal?” Across the table, the investment tycoon — Isabella’s father — looks hesitant as he reviews the technical transfer letter of intent. “Leo, the tech is revolutionary, I’ll give you that.” “But regarding the source code ownership… Your signature alone isn’t enough. Compliance dictates that a transaction of this scale requires two items: The original patent certificates and written consent from all co-founders.”

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Five years. That’s how long I spent chasing my best friend. Tonight was our senior grad party. And we were finally crossing the line. Liam booked a lakeside cabin just for us. My face burned. Then I heard him in the next room. Bragging to his football buddies. “I’m heading out, boys. Got a busy night ahead.” Cheers and whistles erupted. I turned to leave. Then my name dropped. “What about Ava? You just gonna leave her hanging at the cabin?” I froze. A lazy, arrogant laugh cut through the noise. “Sophie hates the noise. I gotta take her home first.” “Ava is a sure thing. I’m just getting some practice. She’ll thank me later.” The room was packed and sweaty. I felt like I was freezing to death. The guys went crazy. “Classic QB move. Banging the head cheerleader while using Ava as a decoy.” “Her folks are in Europe. She’s crashing at your place. Aren’t you worried?” “My parents are in Cabo. We’re eighteen now. I deserve some fun.” The room broke into nasty laughter. “Damn man. She gave up Yale to follow you to State. You don’t feel bad at all?” “For real though. Ava is drop-dead gorgeous. Total good girl vibe. You’re really putting her on ice?” More dirty laughs. “You guys don’t get it. You save the best for last.” “I’m actually doing her a favor. If we hook up now, I’ll get bored. What’s left for the honeymoon?” “It’s a win-win. I get my reps in. She gets the perfect guy in the end.” It was the middle of July. Cold sweat soaked through my dress.

I looked across the crowded room. Sophie. My best friend since freshman year. The only person I trusted as much as Liam. She caught me looking and flashed an innocent smile. My vision blurred. I bolted for the bathroom. The door was paper-thin. I clamped my hand over my mouth. Choked back a sob. Footsteps. “Ava? Babe, you in there?” A soft knock. That same gentle voice I fell for. I stared at my tear-streaked face in the mirror. Swallowed hard. “I’m fine.” He didn’t walk away. He sounded relaxed. Not a clue. “Cool. Head to the cabin without me. I gotta drop Sophie off.” “You know how it is. She lives alone. Just wanna make sure she’s safe.” “Don’t wait up if I’m late.” “We’ve got all the time in the world.” His deep voice echoed in the tiny bathroom. Ten days ago. Sitting on his back porch. He leaned in and kissed me out of nowhere. The smell of fresh-cut grass and summer heat. I could barely breathe. I asked him what that was for. He smiled like a predator. “Because you finally grew up. And I’m making my move.” I really thought my five-year crush was paying off. Now? I was wide awake. Were all those kisses just a game? “Liam.” I whispered to the wood. “Do you love me?”

Dead silence. He hesitated. “Don’t be crazy, babe. Would I be doing all this if I didn’t care?” What about Sophie? Is that love too? I swallowed the words. I asked something else. “Are we official?” A heavy sigh through the wood. I could picture his face. Brows knit. Patience running out. “Does it really matter, Ava? We have so much history. Why do we need to put a label on it?” Classic Liam. Never making promises. Never owning up to his shit. Just deflecting. Gaslighting me with that soft voice. Making me the crazy one. The boy I grew up with. The center of my universe. Rotten to the goddamn core. I wiped my eyes. Matched his soft tone. “Okay. I get it.” He mumbled a few sweet nothings. Walked away. His footsteps faded down the hall. I pulled up my dad’s text thread. My hands shook. “Dad. I made a mistake.” “I’m doing the Paris program. I’ll send the application tomorrow.” “Right after my birthday party, I’m out of here.”

The bass thumped through the floorboards. I stepped out of the bathroom. Liam was already playing hero. Some guy was pushing a shot on Sophie. Liam snatched the red Solo cup. Knocked it back in one smooth motion. The crowd cheered. Sophie blushed. Biting her lip like a lovesick puppy. “I could’ve handled that.” Liam slumped onto the couch. His knee brushing her bare thigh. “You’re a total lightweight. Can’t have you getting trashed on my watch.” He actually tracked her drinking habits. The sexual tension was suffocating. A few guys smirked. Then they noticed me standing in the hall. The room went dead silent. Liam shifted. Pulled his knee away. Sophie played it off with a smile. Scooted over and patted the empty cushion between them. “Ava! Come sit.” She leaned forward. Something caught the light. A silver chain around her throat. I stopped breathing. The infinity pendant. I saw it in Liam’s Amazon cart right before Prom. The listing literally said, For Your True Love. It was cheap jewelry. But I spent weeks praying it was for me. Prom came and went. He kissed me. I forgot all about it. Now it was resting right on her collarbone. Bile rose in my throat. Heartbreak mixed with raw humiliation. I fought to keep my face blank. But my voice betrayed me. “Have fun. I’m out.”

Liam shot up from the couch. “Why are you leaving?” I didn’t answer. Just turned and walked away. Halfway down the hall, a hand clamped around my arm. Liam pulled me close. His voice was a low, angry hiss. “Are you seriously throwing a fit right now? Because I took a shot for Sophie?” “If I don’t look out for her, these guys will get her trashed. You know how they are.” I looked him dead in the eye. “And what about you?” He blinked. “What exactly do you want with her?” A split second of blank panic flashed across his face. My mind raced back to Freshman year. Everyone knew Sophie’s deal. Drop-dead gorgeous. Scholarship kid from the wrong side of the tracks. Fresh meat. She drew all the creeps. Some sketchy townies cornered her after school once. I was the one who grabbed security and saved her. After that, I made sure she always had a ride. My car. Liam’s car. I sat in the back with her every single day. Talked her ear off so she wouldn’t feel like a charity case. Liam just smiled. Barely said a word. I thought they weren’t even close. Until Valentine’s Day. I walked into an empty hallway. Saw Liam toss a heart-shaped box right into the trash. Some guy had bought it for Sophie. “Back off. She doesn’t need your garbage.” Liam barked. The guy’s face turned bright red. “You’re not even her boyfriend, man. Back off.” Liam stepped right into his space. “Who says I’m not? As of today, she’s mine.”

My water bottle hit the floor. Plastic clattered against the tiles. They both snapped their heads toward me. Liam rushed over. Panic in his eyes. A massive lie spilled right out of his mouth. He claimed he was just playing the fake boyfriend to scare off the creeps. He only did it because she was my best friend. I bought every single word. I even helped cover for them. Months later, Sophie actually got a “boyfriend.” She claimed some out-of-town college guy was sweeping her off her feet. The perks started rolling in immediately. Ubers magically appeared whenever it rained. Daily DoorDash deliveries kept her fed. Her closet filled up with designer clothes. Someone even footed the bill for her expensive SAT prep. She lived like absolute royalty. Sometimes I would spot red marks on her neck. I always teased her about those nasty mosquito bites. She always forced an awkward smile. I thought she was just being shy. Now I see the truth. She was drowning in guilt. I stared at the liar standing in front of me. “When did it start?” I asked softly. “When did you two start hooking up?” “Was it Valentine’s Day? That ski trip sophomore year? Or—” “Ava, stop.” Liam’s voice dropped. Total ice. “This right here is exactly why I didn’t want a label on us.” He glared at me like I was the villain. He twisted the knife with every word. “Sophie doesn’t have your safety net. She has to fight just to survive.” “What is so wrong with me helping her out?” “You used to be so chill. Now you’re just suffocating.”

Tears spilled over. I hated myself for it. Hated how much I still needed him. My chest heaved. The ice in his voice melted. “Lose the spoiled princess act.” “Do it for our future.” “We leave for college in a few weeks.” “I don’t want petty drama ruining freshman year.” “Are we good?” I forced my lungs to steady. Wiped my face dry. “No, Liam.” “I’m not going down South with you.” A loud scoff. Total dismissal. “Deposits are already paid, Ava.” “Don’t wreck your future over a stupid tantrum.” The joke was on him. My parents’ company just expanded to Europe. They’d been begging me to study in Paris. I turned them down just to stay close to a liar. Yale was off the table now. But snagging a spot at a top school in Paris? One phone call from my dad, and I was in. My face stayed blank. A heavy sigh broke the silence. “Look. You were browsing off-campus housing, right?” “I found a sick penthouse. Let’s just sign the lease.” “It’ll be our first real place.” “You can decorate it however you want. Deal?”

He smiled at me. Like he was doing me a massive favor. It made my stomach turn. I wanted my own apartment. Not a love nest. But in his head? I was just a desperate groupie. A sure thing. He aimed for my lips. I turned my head. He kissed empty air. He froze. The nice-guy mask vanished. His patience was gone. “Go to the cabin. Cool off.” He spun on his heel. Walked right back into the party. Didn’t even look back. My chest felt entirely hollow. I didn’t go to the cabin. I called an Uber and went straight home. The house was dark and empty. Sleep was a joke. I tore my bedroom apart. Dragged out every single memory of him. His old varsity jacket. He wrapped me in it when I caught the flu. The giant carnival bear. He spent fifty bucks winning it for me. The limited-edition Jordans. He camped out all night to buy them. A pile of garbage in the middle of my floor. My throat tightened. It wasn’t just a five-year crush dying tonight. It was my entire childhood. Gone. I shoved it all into heavy black trash bags. The sun crept through the blinds. I collapsed onto my bare mattress. Total blackout. My phone buzzed at noon. Dad. We didn’t need a long talk. He read right between the lines. “So, how do we feel about Paris for your birthday?”

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