Author: Momo Chan

After another defeat in the war, the Alpha of the rival Northern wolf pack captured Sabrina, the woman my brothers loved, and demanded that I, the strongest fighter among us, be sent in exchange. I had armed myself and was preparing to lead the guards out to rescue her personally when, just before I set off, my brother handed me a drink laced with drugs. When I woke, I found myself tied to a wooden bed. My three brothers – one was the leader of the wolf pack, one was an executive councilor, and one was commander of the guard. They had once been the proudest pillars at my back. But now, my second and third brothers were pinning me down with all their strength, while my eldest brother held an iron rod, his eyes filled with pain and grim resolve. “Jodie, don’t blame us. Sabrina can’t be allowed to come to harm.” As soon as he finished speaking, the iron rod came crashing down on my leg. Only in that agony did I finally understand. They were not sending me to rescue her. They were making sure I could not run – that I could be used to bring back their beloved Sabrina, safe and whole. … “Sabrina is in poor health. She can’t withstand the cold of the Northern snowfields, and she can’t survive their torture.” Harvey, my eldest brother, lowered his eyes. His voice trembled faintly, but the hand holding the iron rod did not shake at all. My mouth was full of the bitter taste of the drug, mixed with the metallic tang of blood rising in my throat. “So I’m supposed to endure all of that for her?” I stared at him and spoke in a hoarse voice. My second brother, Victor, pressed down hard on my shoulders, his grip so brutal it felt as if he would crush my bones. He avoided my gaze, the line of his profile drawn tight. “Jodie, we’re doing this for the Frostmoon wolf pack too. Their power keeps growing. We can’t beat them.” My third brother, Edgar, pinned my legs down. His charming eyes, which were usually full of laughter, were now ice-cold. “You’re the strongest Alpha in the Frostmoon pack. They may not be able to kill you.” I gave a cold laugh, my chest heaving violently. “So you decided to help them along and make sure I die faster?” I received no answer. I only saw the iron rod in Harvey’s hand rise again, cutting through the air as it came down without mercy on my other leg. “Crack-” The sound of bone shattering was so clear it was piercing. My vision went black. Cold sweat soaked through my clothes in an instant. Pain flooded over me like a tide, swallowing me whole. Through my blurring consciousness, I saw my eldest brother throw the iron rod aside and wipe the blood spattered on his face with his sleeve. He moved slowly, carefully. Then he came to the side of the bed and leaned down to look at me. “Jodie, you’ve suffered enough. Sleep for a while.” His voice was terrifyingly gentle. “Don’t worry. When you wake up, Sabrina will be back.” My fingers dug hard into the bedboards. With every last bit of strength in me, I called his name. “Harvey.” His body stiffened, and something complicated and pained flashed through his eyes. I smiled. Blood foam spilled from the corner of my mouth, staining my pale lips red. “You will regret this.” Victor and Edgar released me and stepped behind Harvey. On three similar faces was the same unyielding resolve. My gaze grew colder and colder. Back when our father fell ill and wanted me to inherit the position of leader, I had done everything I could to prove myself weaker, all so my eldest brother, whose ability was beneath mine, could take the seat. After Harvey inherited leadership, I went out to fight. I became the renowned “God of War” far and near, all to help him manage the pack and keep our wolves from being bullied. I never imagined that, in the end, this would be my fate. They did not look at me again. They turned and strode out of the room. The instant the door closed, I heard the lock fall into place. I had become a cripple imprisoned in my own room.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself shut inside a crude prison cart, being taken to White Wolf Gorge, the border between the Frostmoon pack and the Northern pack. The wounds on my legs had been given a simple dressing, but the bumps of the road had torn them open again. Blood soaked through the bandages and stuck them to my trouser legs. Every jolt brought a pain that drilled into my bones. The one escorting me was Edgar’s Beta. He kept his head lowered the entire way, not daring to look at me. Only when I was so thirsty I nearly passed out would he pass a waterskin through the bars of the cart, his eyes always carrying respect and shame. I took the waterskin and drank in silence. The hatred I felt toward my three brothers nearly burned me to ash. Seven days later, the prison cart stopped beneath White Wolf Gorge. The exchange site had been chosen in the open space before the two packs. Two men dragged me roughly out of the cart and threw me hard into the snow. The cold rushed into my wounds at once. The pain made the veins stand out on my forehead, yet I did not make a sound. I raised my head and saw the person who had brought me to this point. Sabrina. She wore a clean, soft white dress and a thick cloak over it, standing behind my three brothers as they guarded her. Her face was somewhat pale, but she was completely unharmed. Caelan, the Alpha of the Northern pack, was staring openly at me. In his ice-blue eyes were undisguised hatred and satisfaction. His warriors had suffered two crushing defeats at my hands. “Jodie.” He spoke slowly, his low voice laced with mockery. “So this day has come for you too.” I ignored him. My gaze passed over him and fixed on the people opposite me. Harvey stepped forward and addressed Caelan. “Alpha, the person has been brought. May we take Sabrina and leave now?” There was careful, almost pleading humility in his tone. He had utterly disgraced the Frostmoon wolf pack. Caelan suddenly laughed. He lifted the long whip in his hand and pointed it at me. “This is the strongest Alpha of your Frostmoon pack?” “A cripple who can’t even stand?” The Northern guards behind him erupted into mocking laughter. My three brothers’ faces turned horribly dark, but not one of them spoke to defend me. They only guarded Sabrina even more closely, afraid she might be harmed. Sabrina peeked out from behind Harvey, her eyes falling on my legs. In those eyes that always shimmered with tears, there was not the slightest guilt. Instead, a clear flicker of triumph crossed them. She even curled her lips at me, just a little. It was the smile of a victor. Silent, and blinding.

After Caelan lifted his hand to indicate that they could leave, Sabrina’s eyes reddened almost instantly and tears began to fall. “Harvey, I’m finally safe.” She threw herself into Harvey’s arms, trembling slightly as if she had endured endless wrongs. Harvey immediately took off his own cloak, wrapped it tightly around her, and soothed her in a low voice. “Sabrina, it’s all right now. We’ll take you home.” Victor and Edgar crowded around her too. “Sabrina, are you hurt?” “Did those Northern wolves bully you?” The three of them surrounded her so closely that it was as if she were some precious treasure recovered after being lost. And I, the bargaining chip whose legs they had broken with their own hands to exchange for her, had been completely discarded by them. Caelan watched enough of the show, then slowly walked over to me. “Take her away.” At his cool command, two Northern wolves immediately stepped forward and hauled me up from the ground. I was dragged forward. My broken legs scraped across the rough, icy snow, leaving long streaks of blood. The blood wound on behind me. As I passed by them, I suddenly spoke, my voice hoarse yet extraordinarily clear, calling their names. All three of their bodies went rigid at once. Even their movements as they shielded Sabrina stopped. Sabrina shrank in Harvey’s arms and looked at me, her smile growing brighter. “You used the Frostmoon pack’s strongest Alpha to exchange for an Omega who can’t even transform.” The air went instantly quiet. My brothers’ faces changed sharply. Sabrina’s smile froze for a moment too. Her greatest humiliation was that she could not fully transform at all – and now I had said it in front of everyone. I continued slowly. “One day, because of the stupidity you showed today, the Frostmoon pack will run with blood.” Harvey’s face turned iron-gray. Victor instinctively looked away from me. Panic appeared on Edgar’s face for the first time. “Take her away!” Harvey nearly roared the words through clenched teeth. The Northern wolves immediately quickened their pace and dragged me into Northern territory. Behind me, the gates slowly closed, cutting me off from my homeland completely. I was taken into Caelan’s room. He sat in the main seat, unhurriedly wiping the blade in his hand. “Jodie.” He lifted his eyes, his gaze cold and sinister. “Three years ago, at Blackstone Gorge, you personally killed ten thousand of my guards and cut down the Beta I trusted most.” “From that moment, I swore.” He slowly stood and walked over to me. The icy point of his blade lifted my chin. “I would make you live worse than death.” He leaned down to look at me, a cruel smile in his eyes. “Now, I have finally done it.”

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Three nights before the Luna Ceremony, I was run down by a rogue. My spine was shattered. Damien Blackwood, my mate—the Alpha of the Blackwood Pack—ensured the rogue was executed. But as I lay there in the healer’s den, unable to move, none of it mattered. I didn’t want to wake up. I didn’t want to face the reality of never running with my pack again. Somewhere between the agony and the numbing fog, I heard Damien speaking to the pack healer. “We still have time for an advanced healing ritual. But if we wait a few more days, Selene’s paralysis will be permanent. If you truly want Lilah as your Luna, fine, but why put Selene through this?” Damien sighed, as if my life was nothing more than a burden to him. “If she’s permanently injured, she’ll have no choice but to stay in the packhouse. If she recovers, she’ll fight back.” My breath caught in my throat. “I swore to Lilah that I’d make her my Luna,” Damien continued, his voice eerily calm. “If Selene is disabled, she’ll have no choice but to accept my child as her own. She won’t have the strength to oppose me.” A single tear slipped down my cheek. So that was it. The ceremony, the bond I had cherished, the future I had believed in—it had all been a lie. I was nothing more than a stepping stone for Damien’s ambitions. Fine. If this was what he wanted, I would give it to him. “Just follow the plan,” Damien ordered. “Make sure the suppressant is given at the right dose. She can’t find out.” The healer hesitated, his voice uneasy. “Are you certain? Selene is already paralyzed. If you strip away her ability to shift, if you sever her wolf from her entirely… What will be left of her? She’s your fated mate, Alpha. The Moon Goddess chose her for you.” Silence. Then, Damien spoke, his voice like ice. “She won’t find out. As long as she remains weak, she’ll have no choice but to stay here. She won’t be able to leave, let alone challenge me.” The healer exhaled slowly, a sound filled with unspoken words. “And what about your child with Lilah? The girl is three. She has your eyes, your scent. If Selene ever discovers the truth—” “She won’t.” Damien’s tone hardened. “Make sure the suppressant is clean. No mistakes. Do it while she’s still unconscious.” The healer lingered for a moment, then turned away. Damien pulled out his communicator crystal and sent a quick message. “Did the rogue cover his tracks? Ensure his family is relocated to another pack. Selene can’t ever find out.” A fresh wave of tears slid down my temples, disappearing into my hair. My wolf whimpered weakly inside me, caged and helpless. Damien dipped a cloth into warm water and wiped my skin. His touch was steady, his movements almost tender. But no matter how much warmth he pressed into my body, I couldn’t stop shivering. The Luna Ceremony I had dreamed of for years had never been mine. It had always belonged to Lilah. And that rogue attack… it wasn’t an accident at all. My mate had planned it all. He had set me up, broken me, caged me. I was nothing more than an obstacle in his way. The love, the bond, the promises… they had all been a lie. I tried to open my eyes, to fight back, but before I could, a sharp sting spread through my veins. The suppressant. As they wheeled me toward the ritual chamber, Damien leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. His voice was gentle, almost affectionate. “Just rest, Selene. It’ll be over soon.” The cold magic seeped into my bones, and my wolf’s cries faded into silence. The pain barely registered. My heart had already gone numb.

When I opened my eyes, the sterile scent of the pack’s infirmary filled my lungs. The numbness hadn’t changed—I still couldn’t feel anything below my waist. My wolf whimpered in the back of my mind, restless and weak, trapped in the same helpless state as me. Damien sat beside me, his expression tense. The second he noticed I was awake, his face softened into an illusion of concern. He took my hand and pressed it against his cheek. “Selene? You’re awake. Do you feel okay? If anything hurts, I’ll call the pack healer right now.” His voice was gentle, his touch careful—just like always. But his eyes… they were empty. It was almost impressive how well he could fake it. I gave him a small smile, reaching up to brush my fingers over the rough stubble on his chin. “You didn’t sleep, did you? I’m fine, Damien. You should rest.” He exhaled, nodded slightly, and within minutes, he was fast asleep. His grip on my hand loosened just enough. I glanced at his phone on the nightstand. Without thinking, I picked it up and unlocked it. The wallpaper was still the ceremonial mate-bonding photo we had taken in advance. It felt ridiculous now. His message app was still open in the background. At the top of his chats was Lilah. I tapped in. The messages were simple, but each one felt like a gut punch. [Rhea called for her dad again today. She already knows how strong you are. She’s going to be trouble when she grows up.] [Rhea ate the treats you sent, finished every last bite.] [She won’t stop asking to run with the pack at full moon. I tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn’t listen. Come if you can.] Damien hadn’t replied with words, but under every photo, there was a two-hour video call log. I remembered when he once told me he didn’t want pups yet. Now I knew the truth. It wasn’t that he didn’t want children. He just didn’t want them with me. I checked his gallery. There was a private album for Lilah. The password? The child’s birthday. Over five thousand photos. Three years of memories that had nothing to do with me. Damien was there for every holiday, every special occasion. The second chat in his messages was with the pack elder overseeing the mating ceremony. From the very start, he had put Lilah’s name down. The ceremonial robes were her size. The invitations had both their names on them. I was never meant to be his Luna. I let out a quiet laugh and closed the app. No point reading any further. Instead, I reached out to my best friend Mira, asking her to find me a healer outside our territory. I filed to renounce my position within the pack. She didn’t question it. She just assumed I had finally woken up, finally seen Damien for who he was. She was relieved. Every message she sent was full of excitement, happy that I was finally letting go. I set my phone down and drifted off to sleep. When I woke up, Damien was crying. He was gripping a hospital report, his whole body trembling. “Selene.” His voice cracked. “The healer found something during your exam. You—” He swallowed hard. “You were born without a womb. You can’t have pups.” I didn’t react. Just stared at him. “It’s okay,” he said quickly. “I don’t care about that. You’re still my mate, and that won’t change. Once you’re discharged, we can adopt. A pup will help you recover, I promise. Everything will be fine.” I was the one who had supposedly lost something, yet he looked more devastated than me. His performance was almost flawless. I didn’t call him out on it. I just let the silence stretch, watching him clutch that report like it was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. After a long pause, he wiped his tears and nodded, as if making some kind of deep, emotional decision. Then he pulled me into his arms. “I swear, I’ll take care of you,” he whispered. “No matter what the pack says, I’ll always stand by your side. And once we’re bonded, I’ll transfer all my assets to you. I just want you to be safe.” His chest was pressed against mine, but our heartbeats weren’t even close to matching.

Damien hesitated for a moment before finally speaking. “The mating ceremony is already planned. Since you’re still recovering, you might have to…” “Find someone to stand in for me so the Silvercrest Pack doesn’t lose face,” I cut in, already knowing what he was getting at. Rather than waiting for him to put me in a weaker position, I took control. At least this way, I could keep some dignity. His golden eyes flickered with something unreadable before he masked it with a sigh. “You don’t have to say it like that, Selene. The pack needs a Luna, and with your condition…” I let out a humorless chuckle. “My condition? You mean the injuries from the accident? Or the fact that I can’t shift anymore?” He looked away, not answering. That was answer enough. Then my phone buzzed. Damien’s ears twitched as he caught the sound. His gaze flickered to the screen, and his brows furrowed. “Selene, what documents did you cancel?” I quickly deleted the message and kept my voice steady. “Nothing important. Just some old pack records. I updated them online.” He didn’t question it, just pulled me closer, his voice full of concern. “You’re still recovering. If you need anything, just tell me. I’ll handle it for you.” I looked up at him and smiled. “Damien, I want to be discharged.” His expression darkened instantly. “No. You’re not fully healed yet. I can’t agree to that.” I tugged on his arm, forcing my voice to be light and playful. “Didn’t you say we should adopt a pup? There’s a caretaker at home, I’ll be fine. I just want to visit the orphaned pups at the sanctuary and look around, okay?” In five years, this was the first time I had ever acted sweet with him. Damien hesitated, then gave in. On the way, he reached into the backseat and pulled out a bag of wrapped treats, placing them in front of me one by one. “I got these just for you,” he said, but then I noticed the packaging—soft biscuits and honeyed treats, things that young pups would love. I closed the bag, tossed it aside, and leaned back. “My stomach feels off,” I muttered, shutting my eyes. This five-year lie had gone on long enough. It was time to end it. As soon as we stepped into the sanctuary, I sat in a wheelchair, playing the role of the fragile Luna-to-be. A little girl with silver-streaked hair came bounding over, her scent warm with familiarity. She threw her arms around Damien’s legs, clinging to him like she had known him forever. “Dad!” she called out excitedly. Damien stiffened. His expression changed for a split second before he quickly composed himself. Worried I might get suspicious, he rushed to explain. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I sponsor this sanctuary and have visited a few times. She’s just a pup who started calling me that.” I inhaled sharply, taking in the girl’s scent again. There it was—his scent, mingled with hers in a way that only blood ties could explain. She wasn’t just some orphaned pup. She was his.

Three Years Later… A week before our mating ceremony, I overheard Damien speaking with his Beta. “Alpha, there are other ways to claim control over the Silvercrest pack. Is marrying Selene really necessary? If she finds out the truth, it could be dangerous.” Damien exhaled sharply. “This is the only way to make her lower her guard. Florence deserves to rightfully inherit the Silvercrest name. If I have to involve myself, so be it. For her, I will do anything.” My breath hitched. The salvation I had clung to—the mate bond I had convinced myself was real—was nothing but a carefully laid trap. I pressed myself against the wall, my wolf trembling in rage and betrayal. Damien’s voice was calm, almost affectionate. “Luna Eleanor won’t last much longer. Selene will insist on having her at the ceremony, but once she’s gone, the Silvercrest pack will be weak. She will have no choice but to rely on me. That’s when I will strike.” The Beta hesitated. “Are you sure about this, Alpha? Florence is just an omega-born bastard. Isn’t this too cruel to Selene? Over the past three years, she has fallen for you.” Damien’s voice turned cold. “Do not call her a bastard again. Florence is the rightful second daughter of the Silvercrest family. And Selene…” He let out a sigh, as if I were nothing more than a burden. “Marrying her is a form of compensation. Even when the Silvercrest pack falls, she will still have me. Her life won’t be difficult.” The Beta still looked uneasy. “Your brother—” ” Arthur always loved competing with me. Now that Florence has chosen him, I will make sure their future is secure. As for me… I don’t matter.” My claws dug into my palms. The bond between us, the years we had spent together, had all been a lie. The lawyer sighed. “I’ll finalize the agreement. Just… make sure you won’t regret this.” “Oh, and delete the video from the funeral three years ago,” Damien added as an afterthought. “Selene can never find out it wasn’t Arthur who leaked it.” My heart turned to ice. The video that ruined my life—the betrayal I had blamed Arthur for—hadn’t been his doing. It was Damien’s. The man who swore to protect me, to stand by my side, had orchestrated it all. He had never been my savior. He had been the executioner, waiting for the right moment to deliver the final blow. The footsteps in the hall grew louder. I swallowed my panic and hurried back to my room. The hot tea I had been carrying spilled onto my hands, but I barely felt the burn. I had spent the last three years believing in a mate bond that never existed. I had trusted him with my pack, my mother’s dying wish, my heart. I had been a fool. The sound of a door clicking shut signaled the lawyer’s departure. A moment later, Damien entered. His scent, laced with the faint bitterness of alcohol, filled the space. He found me standing by the door, his golden eyes softening. “Why are you just standing there?” I forced a smile, masking the rage boiling beneath my skin. “I was bringing you tea, but I spilled it.” He stepped forward, cupping my face with warm hands, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “You’re too good to me.” I closed my eyes, suppressing the urge to rip him apart. Soon, Damien. Very soon, I would return the favor.

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I was Selena’s bed substitute. Every day, I slept with her mate in her place. Because Selena was too weak to endure Kane’s roughness, she forced me to sleep with him for her. But when the three-year term was over, she still wanted to keep controlling me. So she tried to force me into a mate bond with a fool. To survive, I begged Kane in bed to give me a status. But he only said carelessly, “You’re Selena’s maid who came with her when she married me. If I make you my Concubine, wouldn’t that embarrass her?” I closed my eyes in despair. Everyone knew how deeply Kane loved Selena. The next day, I went to the Luna and begged her to let me form a mate bond with the dying heir of the Alpha King, even if it meant I would be a widow for the rest of my life. The Luna was deeply moved. “Good girl, have you really thought this through?” I knocked my forehead to the floor. “I will never regret it.” From the corner of my eye, I saw Kane and Selena’s faces turn deathly pale. … Kane came to Selena’s room again. After a short round of teasing, the lights in the room went out. Selena walked out, and I pushed the door open and went in. The moment I entered, Kane pulled me into his arms. He lowered his head and gently smelled my scent. “Your scent still smells better.” Werewolves had sharp noses. Every night, I took medicine to make myself smell like Selena. Before I could answer, he picked me up and took me hard for the entire night. After Kane fell asleep, I quietly slipped away and went to another room to report to Selena. I had to tell Selena clearly what positions Kane and I had used last night, what words we had said, and then, under Selena’s hateful stare, I would be brutally punished by the servants at her side. All the scars were on my arms, so no one would ever see them. After Selena finished venting her anger, she would lie back beside Kane. And I would endure the pain and continue serving as a maid during the day. But this time, Kane, who usually slept very deeply, woke up. He lifted a strand of Selena’s long hair and joked, “Where did you go just now? Don’t tell me someone swapped places with you for a while.” When I heard that, my heart jumped. A chill ran through my whole body. But Selena reacted quickly. She immediately threw herself into Kane’s arms and acted spoiled. “Then smell me. My scent hasn’t changed.” I let out a silent breath of relief and quietly left.

Selena was a rare beauty, but her body was weak. Among the wolf race, where strength was worshipped, no one wanted to form a mate bond with her. Except Kane. At the Moonshadow Banquet, Kane fell in love with her at first sight. Soon after, he began courting her. They loved each other. As Selena’s personal maid, I came with her. But after the marking was done, when it was time for them to truly be together, Selena could not endure Kane’s roughness and fainted on the spot. It happened three nights in a row. Selena was afraid Kane would abandon her because of this. So every night, after the lights went out, she made me, whose voice and figure were close to hers, pretend to be her and sleep with Kane. Because of that, I had to take the scent-changing medicine every night. The side effects were terrible. Every time I took it, the pain felt like needles stabbing through my body. But even then, I still had to satisfy Kane in bed and make sure he was pleased. Selena promised me that I only needed to replace her for three years. Once her body recovered, she would give me a sum of money and send me away from the royal city. But she used my younger sister’s life to threaten me. I had no choice but to obey. After dawn, I went back to my room, changed my clothes, and went to serve Selena and Kane breakfast. Kane stared at me. “Why do you always wear such strange clothes?” No matter if it was hot or cold, I always wore a high-necked long dress. Because Kane always loved leaving marks on my body. Those marks could not be seen by him during the day. I pressed my lips together nervously, not knowing how to answer. Selena gently pushed him. “Kane, have you forgotten? Ayla is mute. She can’t speak.” Selena was afraid Kane would suspect me if he heard me speak during the day, so she made me pretend to be mute. Kane raised an eyebrow, seemingly interested. “This mute girl is quite pretty. Her figure also looks very similar to yours.” Selena’s face darkened. “What? Have you taken a liking to her?” She glared at me. There was killing intent hidden in her eyes, as if she wanted to skin me alive. Kane laughed. “What nonsense are you saying? I only like you. Look at how you bit me last night. That was the first time you made me feel so satisfied.” He pulled open his clothes and revealed the teeth marks on his shoulder. My whole body froze. Last night, he had been too rough. I cried and begged him to stop, but that only excited him more. In panic and anger, I bit him. I had not told Selena that detail. I never expected Kane to mention it. I lowered my head in terror. Sure enough, the moment Kane left, Selena poured a cup of scalding hot tea over me and cursed, “You bitch. How dare you bite Kane? Are you trying to challenge my position, or are you trying to let Kane know you exist?” Before I could explain, she had people tie up my hands and feet and drag me to the basement. She gave me no water and no food. Kane had to inspect the border for five days and did not need me. That was why Selena dared to lock me up. When I was starving and barely alive, my younger sister, Leah Winter, bribed the guard at the door and brought me a bowl of soup. “Sister, how did you anger Selena? I just went to beg her, but she refused to see me.” Leah lay by the crack of the door, looking at my weak body. She cried so hard her heart almost broke. “I’ll go beg her again. As long as she agrees to let you out…” I did not have the strength to answer. I only asked her, “When will Kane come back?” “Tonight.” “That’s good.” Then Selena would let me out soon. Because she still needed me. I endured the burning pain in my stomach and continued asking, “Has anything happened in the manor recently?” Leah thought for a moment. “The Alpha King’s heir, Lucius, has gotten even worse. The healer said he might die soon. The Luna wants to find someone to form a mate bond with him and leave behind his bloodline. But because the woman has to swear that she will never form a mate bond with another wolf again, no one is willing.” Lucius. Kane’s older brother. He was the true heir of the Alpha King. When he was young, he was brave and powerful. But a few years ago, he was injured, and since then, his body had become weak. Now he did not have much time left. After he died, the future Alpha King would only be Kane. Although no one said it openly, every wolf in the manor knew Kane and Lucius had a bad relationship. So in order not to offend the future Alpha King, no one was willing to form a mate bond with Lucius. Not to mention, they would have to stay unmated for the rest of their life. No one wanted to become a widow. Soon, Selena let me out. She had food prepared for me, but her face was still full of disgust. “This time was only a small lesson. You’d better behave from now on.” I silently knocked my forehead to the floor and begged Selena to let me leave. “You said back then that it would only be three years. Now the three years are over. I want to leave the royal city. Please let me go.” “No!” Selena refused angrily. “My body has not recovered yet. Kane still can’t do without you.” Seeing that I was determined, she threatened me. “If you dare to leave, I’ll kill Leah. I’m sure you don’t want to see your sister suffer like that.” I knelt on the ground. It felt as if I had been thrown into an ice cave. I was shaking from the cold. Of course I could not bear it. After all, the reason I agreed to do all of this in the beginning was to protect my young sister. But did that mean I had to pretend to be another woman for the rest of my life? Did I have to be a hidden mistress who could never be seen? Did I have to endure everything that should never have been mine again and again? This life was too terrifying. After a long silence, I heard my teeth chattering. “Then after Kane becomes the Alpha King, can I become his Concubine?” The moment I said that, Selena slapped me across the face. “Dream on! In this life, you can only be a substitute who can never be seen. If you dare reveal this to Kane, I won’t just kill you. Your sister Leah won’t survive either!” But I did not want to be controlled forever. I did not want to keep damaging my body as someone else’s substitute. I did not want to live every day under threat, terrified that the truth might be exposed, and then be killed by Selena. A life like this was too frightening. I cried and begged, “Selena, I’ve served you since I was a child. Please have mercy on me. I can’t spend my whole life without forming a mate bond with a male wolf…” Before I could finish, Selena interrupted me coldly. “You want to form a mate bond? Fine. The guard at the gate has a son your age. You can form a bond with him.” My whole body instantly went cold. The guard’s son was born mentally impaired. But he was strong, and he loved hitting people. Selena wanted to control me for the rest of my life. When Kane returned to the manor, I was kneeling on the ground in a daze. Selena stood up with a smile. “You’re back. You must be tired after these past few days. This maid broke the cup presented by the wolves of the Western Territory, so I punished her to kneel for half an hour.” Kane walked around me without the slightest concern. His face was full of exhaustion. “How is the matter with my brother going?” Selena sighed. “To form a mate bond with a dying man, and risk offending you, the future Alpha King… no she-wolf would be willing.” Kane frowned. “Then just find someone. Use her family to control her. Offer money or punishment. There will always be a she-wolf who agrees. Mother already dislikes you because you are weak. If you handle this well, she will definitely see you differently.” Selena answered softly.

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Three years dead. My lawyer husband still wanted me to take the fall for his true love. He showed up at my old house with a confession in hand. The place was a wasteland. He had to ask the neighbor where I was. The neighbor told him flat out. “Elena Rose? She’s been dead for years. Word is, after she got out, the victim’s family came for her. Beat her to death.” Theodore refused to believe it. He was sure I’d put the neighbor up to it. His face twisted with disgust. “A couple years in prison and now she thinks she can fake her own death?” He let out a cold scoff. “Do me a favor. Tell her if she doesn’t show up at the courthouse on Monday, she can forget about me paying one more dime for her mother in that care home.” Then he stalked off, fuming. The neighbor stared at his rigid back and sighed. “But her mother… she starved to death in that place a long time ago.” — I drifted in the yard of my old house and watched Theodore Cross struggle through the weeds. He clutched a few sheets of paper. The confession, I figured. The one that would make me the culprit. “Elena! Get out here! You think hiding in this dump is clever?” His shout echoed in the empty yard. “If I hadn’t pulled strings back then, you’d have been beaten to death inside! Now I need you and you dare to hide from me?” Hearing him throw that in my face with zero guilt hurt worse than the beating I took the day I got out. Three years ago, he’d said the same thing. Back then, Serena Vance had been drunk behind the wheel and hit someone. He’d come to me with fake evidence. “Two years. You go in for two years. I’ll get your mom into the best care home. But if you refuse…” I’d flipped the coffee table in our fight. “Theodore! I’m your wife! How can you send me to prison for her?” He hadn’t even bothered to explain. His eyes held nothing but contempt. “Sign the confession or watch your mom’s treatment stop. Your call.” Now, here he was again. Same face, same threat. It was late. Theodore kept shouting. Mrs. Kowalski next door threw open her window. “What’s all this racket in the middle of the night? Nobody’s lived there for years!” Theodore rounded on her. “You know Elena Rose, right? Is she hiding in there?” Mrs. Kowalski squinted at him through her reading glasses. Then she let out an “Oh.” “You mean Elena? She’s been dead almost three years.” Theodore’s face went rigid. “What? Dead?” “Mm-hmm. A few days after she got out, someone beat her to death. Had to do with that old case, they said. Gone on the spot.” She gave him a sharp look. “Who are you, anyway? How do you not know this?” “Impossible!” Theodore’s voice pitched high. “Someone like her couldn’t possibly…” He cut himself off, yanked out his phone, and dialed Serena. His fingers were shaking. He put it on speaker. Serena’s voice drifted out. “Theodore? What’s wrong?” “Serena, that settlement money for the victim’s family. Did you actually pay it?” A half-second pause. Then Serena’s voice, firm and certain. “Of course I did. I signed the check myself. Why?” I heard it clear as day. I almost screamed at her. She’d done nothing. The moment I stepped out of prison, those family members found me. They wanted justice. I was barely clinging to life when I learned the truth. Serena hadn’t given them a cent. They’d never even heard of a settlement. I died in Serena’s place. Theodore’s face relaxed the second the call ended. He turned back to Mrs. Kowalski, his expression full of disgust. “I knew it. Elena got you to lie for her. A little prison time and now she’s staging her own death. Tell her this: if she skips court on Monday, her crazy mother will be out on the street.” He spun around and marched to his car. His shoes crunched on the gravel drive with a final, dismissive sound. Mrs. Kowalski watched him go and sighed into the empty air. “That man is blind. Elena’s mother was gone long before. They say she wasn’t found for days in that care home. Starved to death.”

Theodore practically fled the old property. He didn’t catch Mrs. Kowalski’s last two sentences. My soul was tethered to him, dragged along like a balloon on a string. I had no choice but to follow. His Lexus sped across town and stopped at the entrance of Serena’s luxury apartment, the one with the sweeping lake view. The door opened. Serena rushed to greet him, her smile eager and tight. “Theodore, how did it go? Did Elena agree?” He paused while changing his shoes, not meeting her eyes. “She… wasn’t home.” The smile on Serena’s face dimmed. She quickly replaced it with a wounded look. “She must still hate me. I can’t blame her. I did a terrible thing to her last time.” She dropped her head, her voice going soft and thick. Her eyes glistened on cue. “Maybe… maybe we should just drop this. It’s my mess. I can’t drag her into it again. But… if I really do go to prison, what will you do all alone?” Theodore always fell for that act. He pulled her into his arms, his brow furrowing. “Don’t talk nonsense. What right does she have to hate you? I gave her a huge sum of money the last time. The victim’s family was handled. It was just a few years in a cell, not a death sentence. What does she have to complain about?” He gripped her shoulders, his voice taking on that final, decisive tone. “Relax. I will find her. She will take responsibility for this.” I hovered by the chandelier and caught the flicker of triumph on Serena’s lips. My soul went cold. I never saw a dime of that money. And the “handled” family turned out to be the ones who killed me. Serena buried her face in Theodore’s neck. Out of his sight, the corner of her mouth curled up in victory. I reached for her throat, desperate to choke the life out of her. My hands passed right through. “Don’t worry,” Theodore murmured, stroking her back with steady reassurance. “I’ll find her. She will do her duty this time.” He went back to my old place the next morning, determined to track me down quickly. Sunlight cut through the busted window frames of my abandoned farmhouse. Theodore stood in the yard, his frown deepening. “These roses…” He crouched down. His fingers brushed the withered bushes. He knew I used to fuss over them constantly. They were my grandmother’s heirloom roses. I would never have let them die unless something catastrophic had happened. I shadowed him as he pulled out his phone and took a picture of the spiderwebbed oak door. His thumb hovered over the screen for a long moment. Then he finally called his assistant. “Find Elena Rose. Use every resource. I want every detail.” He kept walking after he hung up. My pulse raced. Right there, at the corner of the old barn, a dark stain still clung to the concrete slab. Three-year-old blood. Two more steps and he’d see it. A shrill ringtone split the air. Serena’s custom tone. Her panicked voice spilled from the phone. “Theodore! The prosecution has new evidence. If we don’t deal with this fast, I’m finished!” “What?” The color drained from Theodore’s face. “I’m on my way.” He turned and ran. He didn’t look any closer. I hovered in the air. I wanted to applaud his sheer stupidity. Of course. In the world of Theodore Cross, even when the sky was falling, he’d hold the umbrella for his precious Serena first.

Theodore’s car barreled down the highway, and I was dragged along with him. The scenery outside the window blurred into streaks. He kept rapping his knuckles against the steering wheel, muttering under his breath. “Still time. There’s still time.” The car’s speaker crackled. His assistant’s voice came through. “Mr. Cross, we still have no trace of Ms. Rose. No credit card activity, no bank transactions. It’s like she’s really…” “Useless!” Theodore slammed his palm against the wheel. “Keep looking! Get the private investigator to tear through every database!” His breathing grew ragged. Then, suddenly, his eyes lit up. That familiar, self-assured expression I knew all too well settled back on his face. He grabbed his phone and called Serena, his voice vibrating with excitement. “Serena, I’ve got it. The old woman is still in the care home. Elena cares about her more than anything…” A violent tremor ripped through my soul. The image of my mother, withered to skin and bone, flashed in front of me. After all these years, he was still using her to blackmail me. I screamed at him to stop, but Theodore couldn’t hear me. He was already consumed by the thrill of the hunt. He slammed his foot on the gas and raced toward the Maple Grove Care Home. The hallway reeked of disinfectant and stale urine. Theodore covered his nose with a grimace. “Someone get out here! Where’s Elena’s mother? Bring her to me!” A middle-aged man with gold-rimmed glasses hurried over. “Mr. Cross, what an unexpected…” “Cut the crap,” Theodore snapped. “Which room is Margaret Rose in? I’m taking her with me.” Dr. Peterson’s face froze. A sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead. “Well… you might not be aware, but Mrs. Rose, she…” “She what? Serena just came by last month and paid twenty thousand in care fees. Take me to her. Now.” My soul twisted in agony. That twenty grand. It probably went straight into Serena’s pocket. Dr. Peterson fumbled to pull up the records on his computer. The death certificate was right there on the screen. Date of Death: March 15, 2023. Cause of Death: Severe Malnutrition. “Mr. Cross… Mrs. Rose did indeed pass away two years ago.” “Bullshit!” Theodore snatched the mouse and stared at the screen. I saw his pupils contract violently. His fingers twitched. But a second later, a cold sneer spread across his face. “Impressive, Dr. Peterson. How much did Elena pay you to fake the records?” He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “Do you know how many years you’ll get for falsifying medical documents?” Dr. Peterson’s knees practically buckled. “Mr. Cross, this is an automatic system entry! Look at the certificate number. You can verify it with the State Department of Health.” “Shut up.” Theodore slammed the laptop shut and strode toward the door. “I’ll check this myself. And if I find out you’re all in on this…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but Dr. Peterson looked like a dead man walking. I knew exactly why he was terrified. He was the one who’d injected my mother with the fatal dose of sedative. Theodore’s hands were shaking so hard he could barely grip the wheel when the car started again. He called Serena, but his voice came out oddly tender. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll find the old woman. Elena always does what her mother tells her.” I drifted in the passenger seat, watching the affection in his eyes. The hatred in my soul surged like a tide. If I could still cry, my tears would be made of blood.

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Four years after my death, my husband tried to force me to donate a kidney to his mistress. He showed up at my workplace clutching a consent form. But every single coworker he asked told him the same thing. They’d never seen me. Frustrated, he finally went to my HR Director. “Erin? Didn’t she pass away four years ago?” “Complications from the last surgery. Coagulation disorder. The wound never healed. She bled out.” My husband didn’t believe it. He turned it around and accused them of taking bribes from me. Of conspiring against him. He jabbed a finger in the HR Director’s face. “Don’t think I don’t know she paid you off to lie to me.” “You tell Erin Hayes she has until tomorrow afternoon. If she doesn’t show, I will use my authority as Emily’s legal guardian to dump her right back into the foster system.” What he didn’t know. His mistress had already taken my little sister. Dragged her away for a live organ harvest. Emily died on that operating table. *** Footsteps pounded down the hallway. I drifted above it all, watching Derek Walker storm into my company. The address he’d dug out of his phone’s email trash folder. Three years old. The last trace of me he had. He clutched a document. ORGAN DONATION was printed across the top. “Erin Hayes. Where is she? Get her out here.” He shoved the office door open. Several coworkers looked up. Exchanged glances. Finally, someone answered in a small voice. “Erin? She hasn’t been to work in a long time…” “How long?” Derek’s lip curled. His gaze swept across every face. “Don’t play dumb with me. Is she hiding?” No one dared speak. The office went so quiet you could hear your own heartbeat. Derek clicked his tongue in disgust and turned toward the private office. He didn’t knock. Breezed right in and slapped the document onto the desk. “Hey. Where’s Erin? I’ve got urgent business with her. Don’t tell me you don’t know.” Mr. Wilson looked up. His brow creased so hard it could trap a fly. “Who are you? This is a workplace. Show some respect.” “Respect?” Derek snorted. “I’ve got every right to find my own wife. What the hell do I need respect for?” “It’s you people acting all shifty. Did she pay you off? Are you helping her lie to me?” Mr. Wilson was Operations Director. Hearing someone sling that kind of accusation made his face go dark. “Erin Hayes passed away four years ago. You’re her husband, and you didn’t know?” His hand was already hovering over the security call button. Two tall guards appeared in the doorway. “Sir, you are illegally trespassing—” The guards seized Derek’s arms. He thrashed against them. “Bullshit! Stop putting on this little show for me!” “You think I don’t know her? She chickened out over donating a piece of her liver. That kind of coward doesn’t just die!” Mr. Wilson gave up trying to reason with him. He pulled up a file on his computer. “Her termination date is four years ago. Marked as deceased.” At Wilson’s signal, the guards released Derek. The instant he was free, he spun the monitor around. Scanned it. Laughed. “Pretty convincing forgery. How much did she pay you to cover for her like this?” “Sir, respect the facts. Erin Hayes developed a coagulation disorder after surgery. Massive hemorrhaging. She did not survive resuscitation. This is a legal hospital document. What do you mean, ‘cover for her’?” “A liver donation surgery?” Derek’s brow furrowed. Then he roared. “That makes even less sense!” “Olivia told me it was a minor procedure. How the hell could anyone die from that?” “Enough. You pass this message to Erin. If she doesn’t show by tomorrow afternoon, I will personally throw her sister back into the foster system to rot.” Even I thought that was insane. And I was the dead woman he was talking about. Mr. Wilson clearly agreed. He shot to his feet. His voice came out tight with suppressed fury. “Sir, Emily Hayes has been missing for a long time. You intend to threaten a dead woman with someone who has already vanished?” Derek froze. For half a second. Then he rolled his eyes. “Keep it up. All of you. Really committed to the act.” “Forget it. Play your games. When the deadline hits and she’s not there, don’t blame me for what happens.” He snatched the document and stalked out. The door slammed so hard the glass panels hummed. I was dragged along behind him, staring at his stiff, self-righteous back. Bitterness filled my chest. Right. In his eyes, me donating part of my liver was nothing. Now he wanted my kidney. Still nothing. But when Olivia had nothing more than a fever, he panicked like the world was ending. Never left her side. I guess love versus indifference really is that obvious. Outside, Derek pulled out his phone and called Olivia. His voice softened instantly. “Liv, that bitch Erin is hiding again. Don’t worry. I’ve got plenty of ways to smoke her out…” I looked down at my translucent body. I thought of my sister Emily’s desperate eyes in her final moments. A dull ache spread through what was left of my soul. Derek, you don’t know. I’m already dead. You definitely don’t know what your precious love did to my little sister.

On the phone, Derek kept cooing at her. “Liv, relax. Erin wouldn’t dare disobey… We still have her sister.” He floored the gas pedal. The city blurred past the window. And my mind was dragged backward. Three years ago. Olivia claimed her condition had suddenly worsened. She needed a second kidney transplant. Matching donors were nearly impossible to find. I was dead. She couldn’t find me. So she turned her sights on my sister. Emily. I remember that night. Emily had just finished her night shift at Dunkin’. She was walking home with a stack of thick review books in her arms. A black van screeched to a halt in front of her. The door slid open. Two men jumped out and dragged her inside. She kicked and clawed. Her review books scattered everywhere. Her SAT score report—top percentile—fluttered into the gutter. I screamed and lunged at them. My hands passed right through her body. I couldn’t grab anything. I howled as the van peeled away. The only things left behind were her ruined textbooks and one lonely canvas sneaker. They took her to a hospital. The operating room lights were blinding white. Cruel. Emily was strapped to the table. A gag stuffed in her mouth. Tears streaked down her face. Her thin body shook with terror. The restraints cut bloody welts into her wrists and ankles. Olivia stood off to the side. Mask on. Eyes cold as a butcher sizing up meat. That was when I understood. Olivia was never sick. Her “illness” was a front for an organ trafficking operation on the dark web. She wanted Erin’s kidney because a buyer had offered a fortune. “Don’t worry. It’ll be over soon.” She patted Emily’s cheek. Her tone was light. “Blame your sister for disappearing. Otherwise, we wouldn’t need you.” Emily shook her head desperately. Muffled sobs choked from her throat. Tears fell in huge drops. I knelt beside the operating table. Screaming. Trying to untie the restraints on her wrists. My hands passed through. Again and again. Nothing. “Emily… Emily!” My soul felt like it was being ripped apart. I watched the anesthetic push into her vein. Her struggle faded. Slower. Weaker. Until only her lashes still trembled. The moment the scalpel broke her skin, I shattered. A shriek tore out of me no one could hear. Ghosts don’t get heard when they cry. *** “Liv, Emily’s tuition is due. Remind her to register for classes on time.” Derek’s voice yanked me back. I spun around. Stared hard at his phone screen. Olivia’s reply popped up fast. “Already handled it. The girl’s been very well-behaved lately.” Well-behaved? My Emily was ash. Discarded in the Arizona desert badlands. And this fool Derek was still wiring money to Olivia every month. Calling it “supporting my sister’s education.” Every cent went straight into Olivia’s accounts. Fuel for her spending sprees. I watched him live inside a three-year-old lie. Sending money to a dead girl. “Right,” Derek said, as if just remembering. His voice dropped low. “If Erin still doesn’t show, get ready to send Emily to the border. Let’s see if she dares keep hiding then.” Olivia sent back a hesitant emoji. “Is that really okay?” “Why wouldn’t it be? If we don’t scare her, she’ll think we’re bluffing.” I hovered above the car roof. My soul trembled with rage. Derek, you keep saying you have Emily. You don’t even know she’s been dead for three years. You’ll never know the money you sent for “your sister” every month bought Birkin bags and club tabs for your mistress. You’ll never know the hostage you used against me was already a cold corpse. The car stopped at a red light. Derek adjusted his hair in the rearview mirror. Humming. All I could see was Emily. The look in her eyes as she searched the empty air in those last moments. Looking for me. She died waiting for a sister who never came.

Derek rushed to the hospital. Olivia was propped against her pillows. Face pale as paper. IV tubes ran into her arm. The heart monitor beeped its steady rhythm. I sneered inside. If anyone deserved an Oscar, it was Olivia. Where was all that arrogance she’d had while texting? Derek didn’t see it. The moment he saw her like this, his voice crumbled. He cupped her face, aching. “Why do you look so terrible? Is the pain back?” Olivia gave him a weak smile. She held his hand. “I’m okay. Seeing you makes it better… Did you find Erin?” Her eyes held his, expectant. Derek’s expression stiffened. He shook his head. “Not yet… But she can’t hide much longer.” Olivia dropped her gaze. A long, slow sigh. “Forget it. Stop looking… Maybe this illness is just God’s plan for me.” “No.” Derek cut her off. His voice shot up. “I am not giving up. You can still be treated. We just need a compatible donor…” “But Erin is still missing.” “So what?” He was nearly shouting. His eyes glistened, like he was terrified she’d vanish any second. “She’s just hiding. Her sister is still in our hands. She wouldn’t dare stay away.” Olivia didn’t argue. Her expression flickered, unreadable. She closed her eyes. Her fingers traced lightly over the back of his hand. “It’s okay, Derek. Having you with me all these years… I’m already content.” Derek’s tears fell. He bent over and held her. His voice cracked. “Don’t say things like that. I will save you.” I hovered in the corner of the room. Watching. A dull ache spread through my soul. How long had it been? How long since Derek had looked at me like that? From the moment Olivia moved back from Paris, I vanished from his eyes. Even when I agreed to give her part of my liver. Right before they wheeled me into surgery. He stayed planted at Olivia’s bedside. Not a single tear for me. Even now. The only one who could make his eyes go red was Olivia. What a joke. Derek cared for her with painstaking devotion. He didn’t leave until she had fallen asleep. He slipped out of the room quietly. He went straight to the doctor’s office. “Dr. Rodriguez. Olivia’s condition… How much time does she have?” The doctor pushed up his glasses. His face was grim. “At this rate of deterioration… It’s hard to say. Without a matching donor, she might not last a week.” “A week?” Derek’s lips trembled. “And… if we find one?” “Then surgery should happen as soon as possible.” The doctor sighed. “But a suitable living donor is rare enough. A second transplant makes it even harder.” Derek didn’t say anything else. He nodded. Turned and left. The hallway lights stretched his shadow long and lonely. He stood at the window. Dialed a number. “Send more people. Tear the whole city apart looking for Erin Hayes. I want proof. Dead or alive.” “Also. Book me a flight to San Francisco. Soonest available.” San Francisco. Where Emily was supposed to be “at school.” My soul jolted. He was going after Emily himself?

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They took me. Two men. Zip ties. A warehouse. My husband, the sheriff, sent every deputy he had to save his first love. She’d swallowed a bottle of pills. She was dying. I didn’t call him. I let them hurt me. Last time, I called. He came. His team took the kidnappers down. I walked out alive. The next morning, Hannah Brooks was dead. She’d called him seventeen times while he was saving me. He never answered. He told me he didn’t regret it. I was his wife. I was carrying his child. Saving me was the only choice. I believed him. The night I gave birth to our daughter, he dragged me out of the hospital. Fresh stitches. Still bleeding. Our newborn in her carrier. He drove us to Hannah’s grave. Snow howling. Wind like a knife. He kicked me to my knees on frozen ground. “The kidnappers never touched you. You let her die because you were jealous.” He was laughing. “Hannah was so pure. So gentle. How could you let her die?” He poured ice water over my head. Left us there. I held my baby as my body turned to stone. Her cries got quieter. Then stopped. I died in the cold with my daughter in my arms. Then I opened my eyes. The warehouse. The zip ties. The same two men. I didn’t call him this time either. *** They shoved a phone in my face. “Call your husband.” I kept my mouth shut. The beatings started. I still didn’t speak. Frustrated, they dialed his number themselves. The one with the scar across his face held the phone to my ear. “Marcus Kane? We’ve got your wife. You want her alive, come alone. Old warehouse. Dockside. We need to talk.” Marcus sounded annoyed. “Olivia. Really? Hannah’s in trouble. I’m taking my team out there right now. Can you not do this today?” A string of accusations. Then the line went dead. He didn’t believe me. Hannah had spent months telling him I was unstable. Dramatic. Desperate for attention. He’d been primed to see me as the villain. I listened to his verdict. A knowing smile settled on my lips. The scarred man lost it. “You useless bitch.” His backhand sent my skull cracking against the wall. Blood flooded my mouth. He hauled me up by my collar. Spit flying. “What the hell is wrong with your husband? Make him believe it. Or I swear to God, I’ll end you right now.” I knew he wouldn’t kill me. I’d lived this before. I just hadn’t expected to land in this exact moment when I came back. I looked at his furious face. I let tears well up. “Just kill me. I don’t want to live anymore.” They froze. Scarface recovered first. “Don’t play games with me.” His hand connected with my cheek again. I broke down. Sobs tearing out of me. “Save me? He wants me dead. He mortgaged our house. Our joint house. To buy that whore presents. My baby. I lost my baby. Because of him. All of it. Because of him.” “He’s scum. He won’t come for me. God. What’s the point of living.” I started out pretending. Then last life’s grief took over. Real howling. Real tears. Scarface glanced at the bald one. Baldy walked over. Kicked my chair over. “Shut your mouth. Shut up.” He dialed Marcus again. Ten calls. All rejected. On the eleventh, the line went to voicemail. Marcus had decided I was lying. He only cared about his precious first love. Scarface was pacing. “What the hell is wrong with this guy? His wife is missing and he doesn’t care?” He shoved a filthy rag in my mouth. Oil and mold. I was barely three months pregnant. The smell made me retch. Baldy stayed calm. “We wait. By tomorrow, the sheriff’s office will notice their boss’s wife is gone. Then they’ll care.” Scarface spat in my direction. “Useless.” They dragged me to a corner. Ate microwaved pasta. My stomach burned. I couldn’t eat. Morning came. No Marcus. Even Baldy started sweating. Then he kicked me in the stomach. Pain tore through my abdomen. My face went white. Scarface pointed. “She’s bleeding.” Baldy’s expression flickered. “Hey. What’s wrong with you?” I could barely whisper. “Help me. Please. I’m going to die.” Sirens wailed outside. Baldy looked at the blood pooling beneath me. Looked at the cop cars through the window. “We’re out of here. Let this be a lesson to Marcus.” The sirens got closer. My stomach kept cramping. Was I going to lose this baby too? Tears slid down my face. Please. Please hold on.

Overnight, I lost the husband who loved me and the child I carried for ten months. Marcus Kane shredded every scrap of love that night. All that remained was bone-deep hate. Now, maybe God took pity on me. I woke up back on the day of the kidnapping. I made the kidnappers wait an hour longer than last time before they called Marcus. They wanted him to release one of their crew from county jail. They weren’t killers. Last time, they barely touched me. I was cooperative. This time, I’d made them angry. I watched Scarface’s face flush red. I let tears fall. “Just kill me. I really don’t want to live.” Scarface slapped me again. I wailed. Spilled my misery. “Save me? He wants me dead. Our house. Our joint house. He mortgaged it. For that whore. Gifts for that whore. My baby. I lost them all. Because of him.” He was scum. He wouldn’t come. God, what was the point. The words poured out. Real grief bleeding through fake tears. Scarface looked at Baldy. Uncertainty in his eyes. Baldy’s face was grim. He strode over. Kicked my chair. “Shut it. Shut your mouth.” He kept dialing. Ten calls. All rejected. On the eleventh attempt, the line went dead. Disconnected. Marcus had made up his mind. I was lying. His precious Hannah was all that mattered. Scarface was losing it. “Is this guy brain-damaged? His wife is in trouble and he’s not worried at all?” Baldy stayed cold. “Wait. The sheriff’s office will notice by morning. Then they’ll care.” They ate their microwave pasta. I sat in the corner. Rope biting my wrists. Dawn came. No Marcus. Baldy’s composure cracked. Then he kicked me in the stomach. Agony. White-hot. My vision swam. Scarface pointed. “She’s bleeding. A lot.” Baldy’s face shifted. “Hey. What’s wrong.” I couldn’t form words. Barely a whisper. “Help. Me. Please. I’m going to die.” Sirens screamed outside. Baldy looked at the blood. Looked at the cops. “We leave. Now. Let Marcus deal with this mess.” The sirens closed in. My body was failing me. Again? I was going to lose my baby again? Tears dripped off my chin. Baby. Please. Just hold on a little longer.

The door burst open. Uniforms flooded in. No Marcus. Of course. He was with Hannah. Holding her hand. Stroking her fragile, trembling fingers. My heart clenched. Then nausea rose. Every ounce of pain he gave me. Every drop. I would make him taste it all. A small figure shoved through the cops. “Olivia!” Jessica. Jessica Lynch. My best friend. My only friend. She’d called the police. “Olivia, what happened? Oh God. Paramedics. Someone get paramedics. She’s dying. Please. Help her.” Her frantic voice followed me into the ambulance. I woke up in a hospital bed. Everything hurt. Lashes across my back burned. I ignored them. My hand went to my stomach. Jessica stirred beside me. “You’re awake.” She saw my hand. Her face crumpled. “Olivia. You need to rest. Don’t be too sad, okay? The baby must have really wanted to be an angel. God just called her back early.” I closed my eyes. Tears slid into the pillow. I couldn’t keep you either. Jessica squeezed my hand. “Thank you, Jess.” “Don’t be stupid.” She wiped her eyes. “Let me get the doctor.” She walked out. A familiar voice stopped at the door. “Olivia. Really committing to the performance, aren’t you.” Marcus. Jessica spun around. “Marcus, you bastard. What the hell are you talking about?” He smirked. “Still playing victim? You took it all the way to the hospital. You know you’re wasting emergency resources, right?” I didn’t get a chance to answer. Jessica exploded. “Are you insane? Your wife was kidnapped. You’re the sheriff. You didn’t lift a finger. You took your entire office to rescue some bitch pretending to die. Now your wife just had a miscarriage and you have the audacity to blame her?” A figure in a hospital gown stepped out from behind Marcus. “Miscarriage? Really, Olivia? I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”

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They took my uterus. Seven months pregnant. My husband kicked me so hard the placenta detached. I hemorrhaged on the ice. His reason? Someone told him I slapped his first love across the face. My brother Marcus—the one person I had left in this world—found out and just stared at me with pure disgust. “You deserved it. If you ever lay a hand on Olivia again, I’ll make you regret it.” The hedge fund they ran together collapsed. They hung the CEO title on me and shoved me into federal prison. Three years. Three years of hell inside those walls. When I got out, I was done. No more hope. No more clinging to the shredded remains of love and family that had bled me dry. But they had regrets. Oh, they had plenty of those. *** Joseph Cross kicked me. Hard. My body hit the frozen driveway and I went down. Wind carved into my face like a blade. My abdomen clenched—a deep, ripping contraction that stole my breath. Something hot gushed between my legs. I couldn’t tell if it was blood or amniotic fluid. “Joseph—my stomach—something’s wrong—I think I’m bleeding!” I reached for him. He stood right there beside me. He looked down at me from above. His mouth curled into a cold smile, like I was putting on some pathetic show. “Oh, now you know what pain feels like? Did Olivia feel pain last year? When you made her miscarry—did she feel pain?” “She never said a word against you. That’s because she’s a good person. But you?” “It’s her birthday. You threw that bastard child in her face, and then you had the audacity to hit her.” His eyes were ice. No mercy. None. “I didn’t—just let me explain!” I scrambled to stand. The ice was too slick. I slammed back down. I crawled forward on the frozen ground, desperate, reaching for the hem of his coat. “Joseph, I’m not faking—my stomach really hurts—” My fingers never touched him. Olivia, silent until now, stumbled back half a step. She pressed a hand to her temple and let out a delicate gasp. “Joseph… I feel so dizzy…” His face changed instantly. He stared at my outstretched hand, smeared with dirty slush, like it was something foul. He didn’t pull me up. He kicked me away. The sole of his shoe met my body with disgust. “Get away from her. Don’t touch her with your filthy hands.” On that frozen driveway, the kick became a death sentence. My body slid backward. A dull, sickening crack. My lower back and belly slammed into the concrete snow barrier at the edge of the drive. Something tore deep inside me. A ripping, obliterating pain that didn’t stop. I couldn’t breathe. The heat between my legs spread faster, staining the snow beneath me red. I clawed at the ice. My blood-smeared hand reached for him. “Joseph—please—the baby—get me to a hospital—save the baby—” He stood there, Olivia cradled in his arms, staring down at me curled on the ground. No pity in his eyes. Just revulsion. “Vanessa. Save the theatrics. You think a little fake blood and a sob story will make me forget what you did to Olivia?” He snorted. “Women like you—raised in trailer parks—you’ll use any trick to get sympathy.” “I’m not faking—it’s real—” My body shook uncontrollably. My vision blurred. Through the haze, Olivia nestled against Joseph’s chest. Her voice was soft, sweet. “Joseph, forget about her. I really do think I have a concussion…” He didn’t hesitate. He stripped off his coat and wrapped it around her. Scooped her into his arms. His final words landed on me like a door slamming shut. “Lie there and think about what you’ve done. Don’t expect me to fall for this.” He strode toward the parking lot. He didn’t look back. Not once. Snow drifted into my eyes. The cold seeped into my chest, reached my heart. I couldn’t hold on anymore. Everything went black.

I woke up in a hospital room. Dim light. Dead quiet. No one there. My head was thick, slow. It took a long time to piece together what happened. My hand moved to my stomach. Trembling. Seven months. Round and full. Flat. Completely flat. The baby was gone. A white noise filled my skull. Blank. Empty. My chest caved in. Like a sledgehammer had crushed it. Yesterday, the baby had been kicking. Rolling around inside me, full of life. I’d been imagining his face. And now— Seven months. That was all we got. Hatred surged up from my chest—wild, boundless. I wanted to kill Joseph. I wanted to do it right then. I dragged myself off the bed. Before I could stand, I crashed to the floor. The thud echoed through the room. The bathroom door banged open. An orderly rushed out. “Mrs. Anderson! Are you okay? I’m so sorry—I was just in the restroom.” “You just had a hysterectomy. You cannot be out of bed.” Everything stopped. “What did you say?” She helped me back onto the mattress. “You came in with a placental abruption. Massive hemorrhage. They couldn’t save the uterus. You absolutely cannot get up for the next two days. Let me handle everything—your husband already prepaid all the expenses.” Like being held underwater in freezing darkness. My blood turned to ice. I came back to myself and tore free of the orderly’s grip. I was going to find Joseph. I was going to end him. She hit the emergency call button. Shouted for doctors. A crowd rushed in. A moment later, sedatives slid into my veins. I sank into unconsciousness. The dreams coiled around me, suffocating. Memories. Marcus and me when we were kids, just the two of us against the world. Him carrying me on his back, our small lonely shadows moving through trailer parks and cheap rentals. The sweet moments after I married Joseph. The way he used to take care of me. And then Olivia appeared. Everything shattered. When I woke again, it was the next morning. I opened my eyes. Marcus was there. Sitting motionless beside my bed. His expression was flat. Distant.

Marcus is three years older than me. We’re orphans. The real kind. Our father died of a fentanyl overdose in a truck stop restroom when I was five. Our mother vanished. Never saw her again. We survived on foster homes and state checks. The kind of hardship only we understood. Dumpster diving behind convenience stores for just-expired food was normal. Begging quarters for wiping windshields at gas stations was normal. Eventually we clawed our way into college on scholarships and loans. Started working. I thought we’d finally made it. Then his senior year—end-stage renal disease. He needed a transplant. He wanted to give up. Couldn’t afford it. I got tested in secret. A perfect match. I emptied the last twelve thousand dollars from the trust our grandmother left us. Donated my kidney. I made sure the hospital signed strict privacy agreements. The social workers, the surgeons—nobody told him. Same recovery wing. He never knew. I didn’t want him carrying that weight. He’d suffered enough his whole life. I wasn’t going to let him spend the rest of it drowning in guilt toward me. He got angry later—furious I’d touched the trust money. Disappointed I’d vanished for over ten days during his surgery. I just smiled and brushed it off. Now, seeing him healthy, almost like any normal person—I was genuinely happy for him. To me, Marcus was my only family. The one who raised me. My only blood in this world. When I saw him, my nose stung. Every buried hurt surged up my throat. “Marcus—” My voice broke. He slapped me. Hard. Across the face. The blow choked every word of grief right out of me. I stared at him. Too shocked to see his expression clearly anymore. “Vanessa. I am so goddamn disappointed in you. How dare you?” “Last year you pushed Olivia down the stairs. Deliberately. She lost the baby. She didn’t press charges because of me.” “But you just keep going. You crashed her birthday party. Made a scene. Gave her a concussion. When did you become this vicious?” “She forgave you. Again. But after you’re discharged, you will get on your knees and apologize to her.” I kept staring, silent. He screamed: “I’m talking to you! Do you hear me?!” “I spoiled you. That’s the problem. I made you forget your place.” I looked at this man—face red, features twisted, unrecognizable. Was this really Marcus? Over twenty years of memories flooded through me. When we were kids, he did spoil me. Protected me. But after he fell for Olivia—got tangled up in her emotional games with Joseph—he became volatile. Erratic. He was jealous of Olivia’s boarding school history with Joseph. But he couldn’t let go of the scraps of warmth and flirtation she threw his way. I knew him. A childhood starved of love made him desperate and insecure. The missing kidney carved a deep hollow of shame inside him. And Olivia? Upper East Side heiress. Trust fund. European degree. Beautiful. He looked at her with awe. He’d comply with anything she asked, even if it targeted me. And he wouldn’t care. Back then it was all small stuff. At first I tried to talk to him. Eventually I understood. He was a grown man. He knew right from wrong. The way he acted was a choice. His choice. It hurt. But I genuinely hoped he’d find his happiness. Now here he was. Storming into an ICU room, basing everything on one unsupported accusation, demanding answers from me—me, who had just lost her baby and her uterus. I didn’t know this man. He wasn’t the Marcus who once stayed up all night, terrified, because my fever hit 104. Something thick and metallic rose in my throat. I gagged. Blood spilled past my lips. Marcus froze. A flicker of pain crossed his eyes. But he gritted his teeth. He didn’t come to me. He turned to leave. At the door, he stopped. His back to me. His voice was ice. “Vanessa. Everything happening to you—you brought it on yourself. And if you ever go after Olivia again, I won’t forgive you either.” The door slammed. I stared at it for a long time. Wiped the corner of my mouth with my hand. Blood smeared my fingertips. Tears blurred it, spreading the red in circles. Tilting my head back, I tried to force the tears down. It didn’t work. I really regretted it. Regretted scheming my way into marrying Joseph. Regretted stepping into this chaos. Olivia wavered between my husband and my brother. Stringing along Marcus—sweet, obedient Marcus who gave her everything—while refusing to let go of her first love, Joseph. So why? Why were my baby and I the casualties of their game?

The moment I saw Joseph, I knew I was finished. Completely, utterly lost. Fall of senior year. Sunlight streaming through gothic stained glass at an Ivy League alumni mixer. I spotted him beside the lectern. Chiseled profile. A tiny beauty mark at the corner of his eye. It hit me like a freight train. He was aloof. Privileged. Gorgeous. Gliding through campus on family trust money and elite venture capital internships. To catch up to him, I pulled all-nighters on full scholarship, shadowed professors shamelessly for recommendation letters. I followed him to the Ivy League. Followed him to Wall Street. His shadow. Always hovering just inside his sightline. I loved him like a secret I was terrified to speak aloud, afraid my love would inconvenience him. And then one night—after a failed acquisition, drunk—he finally looked down. He saw me. The shadow. After that day, I had a second person in this world I’d gladly die for. I knew someone else occupied his heart. I walked into the fire anyway, fully aware I’d burn alive. From dating to a Hamptons wedding—one year. After marriage, he was tender. Attentive. No matter how busy, he never neglected me. When I got sick, he stayed by my side. Every trip to Silicon Valley or London, he brought back carefully chosen gifts. We were happy then. No question. But all of it ended the moment Olivia came back from Paris. The first time he abandoned me at a highway rest stop in Jersey was to pick Olivia up at JFK. The first time he called me trailer trash with no breeding was for Olivia. Later, he, Olivia, and Marcus launched a hedge fund. I was the CEO on paper. I held zero equity. I had my suspicions. But I didn’t want to believe people could be that ugly. Of the three of them, one was my husband. The other was my own brother. When I got pregnant, I ran to Joseph with the blood test, trembling with excitement. There was no joy in his face. Just a tight frown. Disgust. He never once came to a prenatal appointment. Back then I didn’t understand why pregnancy made everything worse. I should have known. If I had understood sooner— If I had walked away then— My baby might have made it into this world alive. But “if” doesn’t exist. Joseph arrived. Olivia beside him, dressed like a magazine spread. I was pale, lips gray, the stark contrast laid bare. I saw them enter, one after the other, and closed my eyes. I didn’t want to deal with this. “You’re awake.” Joseph’s voice. Flat. No warmth. His expression was open contempt. “Good timing. Olivia came to see you. Apologize to her. Now.” “She’s a kind person. You’ve hurt her again and again, and instead of blaming you, she offered to visit. But I won’t let this keep going. You will apologize today.” I almost laughed through the tears gathering in my eyes. I’m vicious? I’m cruel? This time last year. Olivia’s birthday party. Joseph and Marcus had planned it for her at the Hamptons estate. Midway through, I went upstairs to the bathroom. She cornered me on the staircase. I hadn’t even figured out what was happening before she cried out and tumbled down. She wailed about stomach pain. Blood seeped between her legs. She passed out. On the drive to the hospital, Marcus was shaking. Joseph held her in the back seat, calling her name, urgent, desperate. Then came the story. Two months pregnant. Miscarriage. Whose child was it? Marcus’s? Joseph’s? I didn’t know. I never understood the tangled mess between them. Afterward, they dumped the entire blame for Olivia’s miscarriage on me. I spent a full year living like a convicted sinner in front of them. No matter what I said, they believed I was lying. And then—just days ago, at her most recent birthday party—she pulled the same stunt. Accused me of slapping her. They believed her. Again. Without hesitation.

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A new intern invited me to her wedding, but the groom’s name was my husband’s, Christian. I tell myself it was probably just a coincidence. At the moment, My colleague Sarah laughed and teased. “Chloe Evans landed herself a real catch—a self-made millionaire, even though he’s like fifteen years older than her.” “But he’s so hot. Honestly, he doesn’t look a day over thirty.” As she spoke, Sarah pulled up a photo of Christian to show everyone. The entire office gasped in envy. I saw the photo too. It was my husband’s face. Identical. My heart turned to ice. On their wedding day, I arrived early. Chloe wore a custom haute couture gown, beaming as she grabbed my hand. “Thank you so much, Ms. Vance, for taking time out of your busy schedule to witness my special day.” … A cold, bitter smile tugged at my lips. To be precise, I was here to witness their affair. At the entrance of the hotel stood two massive wedding photo standees. In the photos, Christian had his arm wrapped around Chloe’s slender waist. Both of them looked radiant, blissfully happy. Staring at those images, I felt something rip my heart apart. Chloe’s smile was as bright as sunshine as she pulled me toward the guest lounge. “Ms. Vance—” She paused, her smile turning tentative. “Since today’s such a special occasion, I hope you don’t mind if I drop the formalities and call you Eleanor instead?” She had just graduated from college this year. Only twenty-two years old. Her eyes sparkled with youth, her skin smooth and flawless like porcelain. At that age, even without makeup, she was devastatingly beautiful. Seeing her smile so joyfully made my heart ache. Still, I forced a smile. “Sure.” I sat down in the lounge while she fussed over me—offering tea, fresh fruit. That love-drunk expression on her face was exactly how I had looked when I married Christian fifteen years ago. My chest felt like it was stuffed with a heavy stone. This morning, before coming to the wedding, I had called Christian. He told me he was still on a business trip out of state. Over video call, he looked like a homesick puppy, his eyes full of longing for me. He even showed me a necklace he’d bought for me. “I won’t be back for another three days. I miss you so much, babe. I can’t stand being away from you.” I had nearly broken down right then. But I held it in. For the past fifteen years of our marriage. In everyone’s eyes, Christian was the perfect husband. The perfect father. Even the perfect son-in-law. Before all of this came to light, I truly believed he was the best man in the world. The happier I had once been, the more unbearable the pain was now. My coworker Sarah came over, grinning as she grabbed Chloe’s hand. “You look absolutely stunning. So gorgeous!” Chloe blushed modestly and glanced at me. “It’s just the makeup doing all the work. Eleanor is the truly beautiful one here.” At the office, I was known for my looks. Back in school, I was voted the campus queen. Even though I was fifteen years older than Chloe, I still looked better than her. But marriage was never won on looks alone. I showed no emotion. Just a faint smile. Sarah leaned in, curiosity brimming. “Chloe, I heard you and your fiancé have been together for four years. How did you even meet a self-made millionaire like him?” Sarah playfully nudged her with an elbow. “Are there more guys like him? Hook me up and I’ll file for divorce tomorrow.” Hearing the words “four years,” my insides shattered into ice. Four years. He had been lying to me for four years. And I hadn’t noticed a single trace of his infidelity. I sat there, pretending to be calm, as Chloe spoke with shy sweetness. “He’s the best gift fate ever gave me.”

As she spoke, Chloe pulled Sarah to sit beside me. She continued, “My freshman year of college, both my parents died in an accident.” “I nearly had to drop out. But it turned out my fiancé’s alma mater was the same university I attended.” “He endowed a million-dollar scholarship to the school every year. I was one of the students who received his funding.” “That winter was brutally cold. To thank him, I hand-knitted him a sweater.” “And that sweater… that’s what started our love story.” I remembered Christian did have a hand-knitted sweater. He treasured it like gold. But he told me it was a keepsake from his late mother. Once, our son accidentally dropped the sweater on the floor. Christian flew into a rage and beat him black and blue. So that sweater was hand-knitted by Chloe Evans. What broke my heart even more—he’d been donating a million dollars to that university every year, and I had no idea. Two years ago, he told me the company was facing a cash flow crisis. We mortgaged our house, his father’s house, even my parents’ house. That’s how we supposedly saved the company from collapse. Even now, he claimed the business was barely breaking even—limping along, half-dead. Yet this shrewd, calculating man had been throwing away fortunes on charity—all to win the heart of a young girl. Sarah’s envy was written all over her face. She pressed on, “I heard your husband’s loaded, and he gives you all his money too. So why are you still working at our company, grinding away like the rest of us?” I perked up, hanging on Chloe’s every word. Smile never left her face. “Even though he gives me everything—more money than I could spend in a dozen lifetimes—I still want to have a career I love. I don’t want to just be some trophy wife he keeps at home.” “I need to feel like I have value, you know?” More money than she could spend in a dozen lifetimes? My chest felt like it was caving in. Just last month, our son couldn’t afford the $50,000 tuition for his elite private school. He had to transfer to a public school. The humiliation triggered anxiety and depression in my ten-year-old boy. I kept my voice steady as I asked, “What kind of business is your husband in? How does he make so much money?” “His main company is overseas. The domestic branch doesn’t make much profit.” My mind reeled. I had no idea Christian had a company overseas. For the past four years, he’d been telling me the business wasn’t doing well. He stopped contributing to household expenses entirely. My annual salary after taxes was $80,000—just enough to cover our family’s needs. So I never pressured him. Even when his mother passed away a few years back and her medical bills ran close to $200,000 over the course of a year. I paid for everything. I borrowed $100,000 of it. To pay back that debt as quickly as possible, I had to keep up appearances that we weren’t struggling—while secretly cutting every corner I could. Christian witnessed so many sleepless nights I spent drowning in worry. He watched my hair turn gray at barely thirty. But he never once offered to help. Not a single dollar. Sarah kept prying, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I heard your fiancé is divorced. This is his second marriage, right? Can he handle things well with his ex-wife?” A bitter laugh rose in my throat, but I swallowed it down. Chloe looked completely unbothered, her face still glowing with happiness. “His ex-wife and son are both dead.” My heart stopped. A gaping wound tore open in my chest, choking me. I couldn’t believe it. Christian had told her our son and I were dead.

A flicker of regret crossed Chloe’s face. “It was an accident. Such a tragedy. That poor woman never got to enjoy the life he could have given her.” A few more colleagues arrived. Chloe’s face lit up with that same radiant smile as she greeted them. She didn’t notice the storm raging across my expression. The women crowded around her, gushing with envy. Everyone marveled at how lucky she was—landing a rich, devoted husband who adored her. Just then, Chloe’s phone buzzed with a video call. It was Christian. Everyone urged her to pick up. Chloe blushed and giggled, declining the call. “I want to wait until the ceremony—when he puts the ring on my finger. I want that to be the first moment he sees me like this.” The women squealed in delight. “Chloe’s saving the big reveal for the ceremony! She wants to surprise him!” Chloe bit her lip, smiling shyly. “I’ll let you in on a secret. Christian’s first marriage didn’t have a wedding.” “No wedding photos. He never even got to see the woman he married in a wedding dress.” “So today, I want to make this unforgettable for him. I want him to be happy.” She wasn’t wrong. Fifteen years ago, when Christian and I got married, he was broke. We had nothing. It was the definition of a no-frills wedding. He proposed with a ring from a 25-cent gumball machine. I used every cent I had to support his startup. Three months ago, our son suggested that Christian and I get wedding photos taken as a keepsake. Christian just laughed it off casually. “We’re an old married couple. What’s the point?” Then he added, “Maybe we should just take a family portrait instead.” I felt a small pang of disappointment back then, but I didn’t make a big deal out of it. I’d always believed that as long as our family was safe, happy, and together, nothing else mattered. He had completely forgotten the promise he made on our wedding day, when we were living in that cramped, $200-a-month basement apartment. He had tears in his eyes when he swore to me: “Babe, when I make it big, I’m going to give you everything. A real wedding.An engagement ring. Everything you deserve.” But when he finally had everything, what he gave me instead was soul-crushing betrayal. Someone gasped in shock. “Wait—he didn’t even have a wedding with his dead wife?” “He said he never loved her. He didn’t want to marry her in the first place. His parents forced him into it.” Chloe said this as casually as if she were talking about the weather. “He told me that when she died, he finally felt free. Like a weight had been lifted.” “He said the sky finally felt bright again.” My heart was being shredded, piece by piece. I never imagined Christian would humiliate and degrade our love like this in front of his mistress. He was the one who proposed to me twenty times before I finally said yes. I kept my face neutral. Emotionless. Chloe kept talking, then suddenly covered her mouth and gagged. It looked exactly like morning sickness. I asked, “Are you pregnant?” Her eyes sparkled with joy as she nodded. “Yes. You have such a sharp eye, Eleanor. I just found out. I’m two months along.” The women swarmed her again, showering her with congratulations. They cooed about how her baby would be the heir to a fortune. Chloe didn’t shy away from the topic. “Christian already transferred all his assets into my name and the baby’s.” “I just started this job, and then I found out I was pregnant. He told me to quit immediately.” “He wants me and the baby to move overseas. He says he wants to give us the best life possible.” More envious squeals erupted. Meanwhile, my spine turned to ice. Her child was the heir? Then what the hell was my son? My ten-year-old boy—who risked his life at age eight to save Christian from a fire.

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I’d been in a secret relationship with my childhood best friend Ethan for six years when he dumped me without warning. A month later, my mom brought up gossip about him while taking jabs at me as usual. “Ethan’s about to be a father, and you still haven’t even held a guy’s hand.” “If I’d made you smarter or prettier, maybe he would’ve actually wanted you.” I scrolled through my work messages, barely paying attention. “He’s way out of my league anyway.” I remembered that day. Lying in a hospital bed with my leg in a cast, angry enough to end things. He didn’t try to stop me. Just let out a cold laugh. “Whatever. I’ve got plenty of girls throwing themselves at me who are better than you anyway.” “Besides, who else are you gonna find without me?” …… Hearing my self-deprecating comment, Ethan’s mom Mrs. Harrison immediately brightened up. “Don’t say that! If you two could make it work, I’d be thrilled!” “Ethan’s always been so withdrawn. I’ve never heard him mention a girlfriend once.” Mrs. Harrison sat down next to me, carefully fishing for information. “Maya, you two are close—has he ever talked to you about his girlfriend?” I shook my head. “We don’t really keep in touch much.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie. After all, Ethan hadn’t contacted me once in the month since we broke up. Mrs. Harrison turned to my mom with a sigh. “Daughters are so much easier. Sons are nothing but headaches.” “If I hadn’t been looking through his phone photos the other day and accidentally seen that ultrasound picture, I wouldn’t even know I’m about to be a grandmother.” My mom brought out a plate of strawberries and set them in front of Mrs. Harrison. “Ethan’s always been smart and capable. He knows what he’s doing. Don’t worry.” Mrs. Harrison’s face lit up. “Just the other day someone tried to set him up—apparently the girl’s father is a state senator. Thank god I turned it down, or this would be awkward as hell.” I stared at my phone for a long moment, completely forgetting who I’d been about to message. My mom suddenly kicked my foot. “The doorbell’s been ringing forever. Can’t you get the door?” I shuffled over in a daze. Ethan stood outside, looking down at his phone, a slight smile on his lips. Right before his screen went dark, I caught a glimpse of the pinned chat at the top—a pink profile picture. “Here to pick up my mom.” Not that he needed to explain. I already knew he wasn’t here for me. I looked down, fumbling for slippers for him. “I’m not coming in. Leaving in a second.” I looked up and met his cold stare. For a moment, I felt completely lost. The same person who’d whispered sweet things to me a month ago could barely look at me now without ice in his eyes. I turned to go back inside. He suddenly grabbed my hand. Shoved a paper bag at me. “These absorb better. Take them with vitamin D.” Mrs. Harrison’s voice drifted over. I yanked my hand back. “Don’t you have a flight assignment today? How do you have time to pick me up?” He smoothly tucked the paper bag behind his back. “Got canceled. Had nothing else to do, so I came to get you.” My mom came over too, chatting away as she walked Mrs. Harrison to the door. Ethan stood to the side, quietly waiting for them to put on their shoes. Mrs. Harrison suddenly noticed a pin on his bag. She asked casually, “That’s a unique pin.” “Old classmate gave it to me.” “A girl?” “Yeah. She’s a flight attendant for a private airline. Ran into her at the airport yesterday when we landed.” It clicked. That pinned chat with the pink profile picture—Michelle Shaw, our high school’s queen bee. Over the past six years, I’d given Ethan watches, wallets, ties. He never used any of them. Every time I asked, he’d say he couldn’t bear to use them, wanted to save them. But I knew the truth. He just didn’t want anyone knowing he had a girlfriend. Yet Michelle gave him a pin, and the very next day he’d clipped it to his bag. How desperate was he to show off his new relationship? Mrs. Harrison and my mom exchanged a meaningful look. “It’s good to stay in touch with old classmates! Tell her to come over for tea sometime!” Ethan looked at me, something challenging in his eyes. “What do you think?” I crossed my arms, forcing my lips into something resembling a smile. “I think it’s great. She’s gorgeous. You two look perfect together.” He froze. Something dark flickered across his face.

I started to head back to my room, but my mom called after me. “Maya, grab that bottle of wine for Mrs. Harrison. Take it down to the car so Mr. Harrison can try it too.” By the time I found the wine gift box, my mom and Mrs. Harrison were already at the elevator. Ethan let out a sigh and walked over. He knelt down, gently taking my ankle in his hands. Rested my foot on his knee. His hands were warm. The touch sent an unwanted shiver up my leg. “When did you get the cast off?” “Is it healing okay?” He examined my ankle with this serious, concerned look. The wrong ankle. He was holding the foot that was never injured. I could tell he was trying to make things right between us, patch things up. But what was there left to patch up at this point? He was about to be a father. The front door was wide open. My mom and Mrs. Harrison were right outside chatting. One glance back and they’d see us. I jerked my foot away, panic rising as I turned to put on my shoes. “Don’t worry about it.” He gripped both my shoulders, forcing me to turn and face him. “I had back-to-back flights that week. The next day I flew to Brussels—” I shoved his hands off. “Don’t. If someone saw us, they might get the wrong idea about our relationship.” He lowered his voice. “Maya, what the hell is that supposed to mean?” I finished putting on my shoes quickly. “We already broke up. No point letting people get the wrong idea.” “Especially now that you’ve got a new role to play.” Irritation crept into his voice. “What role?” I watched him play dumb, the words on the tip of my tongue. I swallowed them back. The whole thing was pathetic, really. Ethan didn’t have a single photo of us together on his phone. Not a trace of me anywhere on his social media. When we traveled together, he never let me post anything. Before, he always said our families were too close, that we’d go public when the timing was right. It wasn’t until we broke up and I heard what he really thought that I understood—he’d always been too embarrassed to be seen with me. Ethan frowned, forcing patience into his voice. “Maya, I just got back from an international flight yesterday. First thing this morning I went to buy you calcium supplements.” “You’re at a stage where you’re prone to calcium deficiency—” His phone cut him off mid-sentence. He pulled it out. Michelle’s name flashed across the screen. My voice came out flat, emotionless. “Better answer that. Don’t keep her waiting.” He stared at me, then deliberately hit speaker phone. A woman’s laugh came through first. “Ethan!” “Why’d you leave in such a rush yesterday?” “Your co-pilot got my number and texted me all night.” “He asked me to go to this bar tonight. You should come with me!” Ethan didn’t respond. Just watched me with an amused look, waiting. “Why are you looking at me? What does this have to do with me?” A soft laugh escaped his lips. “You’re the one who said it had nothing to do with you. Don’t regret it later.”

After they left, I grabbed the watering can and started watering the plants on the balcony. My mom chopped vegetables in the kitchen, calling out to me. “That Michelle girl—she’s a classmate of yours?” I answered without much interest. “Yeah.” “How come you’ve never mentioned her? Is she pretty?” “Gorgeous. Drop-dead gorgeous.” The chopping stopped abruptly. “Figures. Handsome pilots always end up with beautiful flight attendants.” “If they have kids, can you imagine how good-looking they’d be?” I zoned out for a second. Ethan probably thought the same thing. Last month at the high school reunion. Ethan deliberately sat half the table away from me to avoid looking suspicious. The moment Michelle walked in, she swapped seats with whoever was next to him. “I heard you made captain?” “Let me get a good look at you. Eye candy for the day.” “All the captains at my airline are ancient.” They had so much in common. Air traffic control, hotels, restaurants—they could talk for hours. Someone at the table teased Ethan. “I heard pilots always marry flight attendants. Is that true?” He answered completely seriously. “Yeah, there’s definitely some internal matchmaking that happens.” I shot him a glare and texted him under the table. **[Matchmaking my ass.]** **[angry emoji]** When everyone started leaving, my best friend Sarah and I walked ahead. Ethan and Michelle followed behind. Michelle was laughing about something, nearly doubled over. I glanced back without thinking and missed a step. Went tumbling down the stairs. “Maya! Are you okay?!” Sarah rushed over. My ankle swelled up almost immediately. A sharp, drilling pain shot through my leg. “Ethan…” His name left my lips on instinct. He started toward me, then stopped several steps away. I looked at him, silently begging. Even then, he chose to keep his distance. Sarah was freaking out. She had her husband carry me to the car and rushed me to the hospital. I gripped Sarah’s hand, my whole body shaking. “Sarah, I’m scared…” She held me tight, trying to soothe me. “Don’t worry. I’m sure the bone’s fine.” I clutched my stomach, tears streaming down my face. “I’m… I’m pregnant.” I’d just gotten the ultrasound confirmation a few days ago. Hadn’t had the chance to tell Ethan yet. But now this. My leg in a cast, a cold probe moving across my stomach. I silently prayed nothing was wrong. Then I heard the doctor’s verdict. “I’m sorry. There’s no heartbeat.” Lying in the hospital bed, I couldn’t sleep. Just stared at the ceiling, tears running silently down my face. Late that night, I saw Michelle post on Instagram. **[It’s been forever since a hot guy drove me home~ happy]** The next day, while Sarah was handling my discharge paperwork, Ethan finally showed up. I lay there numb, refusing to look at him. “Leave.” He didn’t say anything. Just moved to lift me into the wheelchair. I kicked him hard, voice rising. “Where were you when I actually needed you? What’s the point of showing up now?” He frowned. “Everyone from school was there yesterday. I didn’t want them to suspect anything if I acted too close to you.” “Besides, Sarah was with you the whole time. I didn’t think I should get in the way.” I stared at him as tears slid down my cheeks. “Ethan, how worthless am I to you? You’d rather leave me there bleeding on the ground than let anyone know I existed.” He took a deep breath. “It just happened so suddenly. I wasn’t prepared.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Don’t worry about being prepared. We’re done anyway.” I shoved him aside and threw myself clumsily into the wheelchair. He stood there and let out a cold laugh. “Whatever. I’ve got plenty of girls throwing themselves at me who are better than you anyway.” “Besides, who else are you gonna find without me?” Then he turned and walked out. Disappeared from my life completely.

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On the day we were supposed to register our marriage, Ryan Thorne’s men blocked me outside City Hall. Then he walked up to me, hand in hand with his first love, Camilla Reign. “Camilla’s child needs a legal identity. I’m marrying her first. Give it a month—once the divorce is finalized, I’ll come back for you.” Everyone who knew me was certain: Elina Morandi would wait. After all, I’d already waited seven years for him. But that night, I accepted the arranged marriage my family had brokered and boarded a flight to Geneva. Three years passed before I accompanied my godfather husband, Gregor Volkov, back to the States to handle family business. But something urgent came up at the last minute, and he sent the New York branch to pick me up from the airport instead. The person they sent was Ryan—whom I hadn’t seen in three years. He tilted his head, sizing me up, that familiar arrogance curling at the corner of his mouth—the same look I’d once grown so tired of. “Three years gone. Had enough of your little tantrum yet? Perfect timing—Camilla’s kid starts school soon. You’ll handle drop-off and pick-up.” … … In the arrivals hall, I spotted someone in the distance holding a sign with my code name on it. As I got closer, I realized the person holding the sign was Ryan Thorne—my ex-boyfriend of three years ago. Beside him stood Camilla and a few of his lackeys I vaguely recognized. The whole group was craning their necks toward the exit, scanning the crowd. One of them—a gaunt-faced man—spotted me first. “Hey—isn’t that the little leech who used to follow Ryan around? Elina?” Ryan turned at the sound, his gaze sliding from my face down to my clothes before one corner of his mouth hitched upward. “See? What did I tell you—she was always going to come crawling back.” Laughter erupted from every direction. “Vanishes for three years, and now that Ryan’s made it big, she’s kicking herself.” “If you’re going to stage a coincidental run-in, at least clean yourself up first. What are you even wearing?” “Don’t tell me you can’t even afford a decent outfit without Ryan. How far have you fallen?” The old me would have presented nothing less than perfection whenever I went to see Ryan. But now, there was absolutely no need for that. Since the pregnancy, Gregor wouldn’t let me touch cosmetics—only let me wear whatever felt comfortable. This loungewear was something he’d had custom-made for me; the fabric alone cost a fortune. But hearing their comments, I understood immediately—they only knew the code name on that sign. They had no idea the person they were here to collect was me. I was about to set the record straight when Camilla beat me to it. “Elina, don’t blame Ryan. He arranged things this way for your own good. After all, you disappeared for three years—God knows what you’ve been up to out there.” She swept her eyes over me, a thread of pity leaking from the corner of her lips. “Looking at the state of you… honestly, even if Ryan gave you my position as his personal assistant, you wouldn’t be able to handle it.” “Just help me look after the child.” Three years, and Camilla still had that same insufferable, holier-than-thou expression. Still just as capable of making my stomach turn. Ryan, meanwhile, misread my grimace as jealousy over him. A flicker of satisfaction passed through his eyes. “Come on. You couldn’t even hack it out there on your own, and you’re still putting on airs?” “Just be a good girl, take care of the kid, stop making a scene. Know your place.” “Don’t worry—I’ll set aside a servant’s room for you.” The crowd erupted into shameless laughter again. “Elina, look at that—Ryan’s being more than generous. He’s giving you room and board; all that’s missing is a paycheck.” “It’s just picking up Camilla’s kid. That’s better than roughing it out on the streets, isn’t it? Hurry up and thank the man.” Camilla flicked her earring, adopting a magnanimous pose. “Don’t worry. If my son misbehaves, I’ll discipline him myself. I’d never put you in an awkward position.” Ryan shot me a derisive glance. “What’s she got to feel wronged about? She vanished over some trivial nonsense, and now she’s back because she can’t survive on her own. If she suffers a little, she brought it on herself.” Hearing that, every inch of my body recoiled. Even now—he still thought marrying Camilla that day was just “some trivial nonsense”? The Ryan Thorne who once loved me was truly gone. He was no longer the boy who, battered and bleeding, had carried injured-me across half the city. No longer the young man who had nothing but swore he’d give me the best of everything. And certainly not the man who, even after making his fortune, still cooked for me with his own hands. But maybe that was fine. It was all in the past now. After all, I was about to give birth to my second child.

I pressed my emotions back down and looked at Ryan, my voice flat. “Aren’t you here to pick me up? Let’s go.” A beat of silence. A few of them exchanged glances, then burst into raucous laughter. Camilla scoffed, her voice ice-cold. “Wait for you? You think you’re worth waiting for?” She jabbed a finger at the code name on the sign. “Read it clearly. We’re waiting for the Godfather’s wife—the Donna of the Volkov family.” That was my code name. I was perfectly aware. “The Godfather rules the underworld with an iron fist—ruthless, untouchable—but for his wife alone, he’s utterly devoted. They say he refused to marry for years, just to wait for her.” “Everyone in the circle knows: if you want to win the Godfather’s favor, you’re better off winning over the Godmother first. She’s the one he cares about most.” Listening to them chatter, the corners of my mouth lifted involuntarily. Three years of marriage, and Gregor’s influence had only grown. His reputation as a man obsessively devoted to his wife had spread through every corner of the underworld. And Camilla would never pass up an opportunity to show off in front of me. “To win the Donna’s heart, the Godfather bid on a ‘Heart of the Ocean’ necklace at a world auction. Thirty million dollars.” She paused, and her gaze suddenly locked onto my neck. Her voice shot up an octave. “That’s the exact same one!” The room went silent. Every pair of eyes dropped in unison to the deep blue stone resting against my collarbone. Ryan seized my shoulder, glanced down at the necklace, then let out a derisive laugh. “Decent knock-off, I’ll give it that. Which broke loser bought you this flea-market junk? Gifting a fake—how embarrassing.” “Let go.” I shook off his hand, my fingertips lightly tracing the pendant. Remembering the night Gregor gave it to me as his proposal gift—the reverence and adoration in his eyes—I still felt a rush of sweetness. Seeing the happy smile spread across my face, Ryan’s pupils contracted sharply. “Smiling over garbage. How cheap can you get?” Before I could react, he reached up, clamped his fingers around the chain, and ripped the necklace off me. I hadn’t expected him to do that. I didn’t have time to stop it. Camilla was already striding forward, taking the necklace from his hand, turning it over and over beneath the light. “Even more convincing than my replica. Though I’d never actually wear mine out—too humiliating.” Then she laughed, fixing me with a look full of insinuation. “Unless—Elina, are you the legendary Volkov Donna?” The moment those words landed, the group around her howled with laughter. “Are you joking? The Godfather’s woman? Her? Three years ago Ryan kicked her out of their own wedding.” To them, the idea was utterly absurd. Gregor Volkov was an underground emperor whose reach spanned continents, feared by both sides of the law. And three years ago, I’d still been part of their circle—publicly discarded by Ryan. There was no conceivable way I could be connected to Gregor. Camilla dangled the chain. “Elina, let me have this necklace. I’ll pay you double.” Terrified she’d let it slip and shatter, I reached out instinctively. “Give it back. Gregor gave me that—” Before I could finish, a slap cracked across my face with enough force to snap my head sideways. Blood seeped from the corner of my mouth. “Shut up!”

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