Author: Momo Chan

After I moved into the house my parents bought me, the electric bill hit $100,000 in a month! My parents emptied their retirement fund to buy me a house, despite my brother’s objections. I moved in with joy. But one month later, my phone showed an electric bill of $100,000! I rushed to the power company to check the statement. The clerk looked at it and shook her head. “Ma’am, your electric bill is legitimate. There’s no fraud.” To investigate, I removed every appliance from the house. I even charged my phone at work. But the second month’s bill came out at $100,000 again! I’d only been working a few months. I couldn’t possibly pay this astronomical bill. Under pressure from collections, my parents borrowed from loan sharks to pay for me. I wanted to sell the house, but word about the electric bill had spread. No one would buy it. The bills kept piling up. I pulled the main breaker, not daring to use any electricity. But the third month’s bill came out at $100,000! I nearly fainted. My brother didn’t believe me. He called me ungrateful, accusing me of using fake electric bills to scam our parents’ hard-earned money. My parents were completely disappointed in me. They kicked me out to fend for myself. Within months, I owed millions of dollars in predatory loans. In the end, I was beaten to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my parents bought the house. …… Dad smiled as he handed me the new house keys, his eyes full of affection. “Hazel, what are you thinking about? Don’t tell me you’re speechless with emotion?” “Our Hazel finally has the little house she’s been dreaming of. Hurry up and move in to see how it feels!” The memories of my tragic death flooded back. I couldn’t help shuddering. I quickly refused. “Dad! Julian got married last month and you just bought him a house.” “Buying one for me this month is too much spending!” “Why don’t we return the house?” Dad paused, then burst out laughing. “Silly girl, you think this is grocery shopping? You can’t just return it like that.” Mom also laughed. She took the keys from Dad and pressed them into my hand, brooking no argument. “Hazel, if your brother has one, you must have one too!” “Being fair to both of you—that’s our bottom line. No discussion!” “Your dad and I have things to do. Go check out your new home first!” I opened the door with a heavy heart. The house was fully furnished and very new. I could tell my parents had spent serious money. They said they wanted to buy the best, so I could move in and enjoy it immediately. I scanned the entire place. One bedroom, one living room, one kitchen, one bathroom. I carefully checked every room. No high-power appliances. Even if there were, they couldn’t possibly cost $100,000 a month! I opened my phone and logged into the electric utility system. My mind went blank with shock! It showed the house had already used 237 kWh. 237 kWh was more than a normal person would use in a month. But only one hour had passed since I completed the paperwork! “I don’t believe it… why is this happening!” I frantically searched on my phone, looking for a solution. Suddenly my eyes lit up! A news headline read: Man’s Electric Bill Triples—Neighbor Was Stealing Electricity! Instantly it dawned on me. Of course. In my past life, I’d searched every inch of my home and found nothing wrong. Even after I pulled the breaker, the meter kept spinning at high speed. If someone had secretly wired into my electrical system, everything would make sense! I immediately hired the best electrician in the city and asked him to inspect the entire building’s wiring. The master electrician’s expression turned serious. “Miss, inspecting the whole building is no small matter.” “Coordinating with neighbors is very difficult, and the cost will be tens of thousands. Are you sure?” Looking at the three thousand dollars left in my account, I gritted my teeth and opened a credit card, then took out online loans. If I didn’t spend the money now, I’d spend much more later. I paid the deposit and coordinated with the neighbors one by one. Then the electrician began the formal inspection. My heart was in my throat. After the electrician finished inspecting the last unit, I looked at him expectantly, hoping for a reasonable answer. But to my surprise, the electrician’s face was grave. He sighed. “Miss, no one is stealing your electricity. It’s your own household using it.”

My eyes widened in shock! How was that possible! In my past life, I’d removed all the appliances. There was no way to use electricity! This life, though I hadn’t gone through all that, the appliances in the house were just a fridge, washing machine, and lights. These couldn’t possibly use 237 kWh in one hour! The electrician shook his head and left, his tone full of helplessness. “Miss, I don’t know about this. Why don’t you contact the power company again?” I collapsed on the floor in despair. In my past life, I’d already searched through all the relevant departments. Power company, housing bureau, even the fire department and police. But in the end, nothing was found. Bang bang bang! Someone suddenly pounded on the door. I opened it. It was my brother. He looked at the fully furnished house, his eyes full of resentment and anger. “Hazel, congratulations. You finally beat me once.” “While my mortgage isn’t even paid off yet, you convinced Mom and Dad to buy you a house in full. You must feel pretty smug, huh?” I forced a bitter smile. I didn’t feel smug at all. On the contrary, I felt miserable. Since childhood, though our parents said they’d be fair to both of us, the bigger apples always went to my brother. This time, for once I got better treatment than him, but it turned out like this. Bang! I slammed the door with all my strength, shutting him out. Looking at the electric bill still jumping rapidly on my phone, anger, resentment, grievance, confusion… all my emotions surged up. I grabbed a hammer. Bang! Bang! Bang! Like a madwoman, I smashed all the interior decoration to pieces! The electrician said it was my own usage. Fine, I’d smash everything—all the fixtures and furnishings—I refused to believe I couldn’t find where the electricity was being used! Shards flew everywhere, piercing my skin with searing pain. But I felt nothing. I just kept swinging the hammer. Tiles, closets, bed… everything I could see was smashed to pieces! This should solve the problem. But when I opened my phone with trembling hands, my pupils shrank! It clearly showed 2,500 kWh used! “How is this possible!” My eyes were bloodshot, staring deadly at every corner of the house. The house was a complete mess, everything shattered to fragments. But the electric bill kept jumping rapidly. “No, this is impossible!” I refused to accept it. I hired some demolition workers to tear down the walls. Now there was nothing left in the house, yet the bill kept rising. Could all the secrets be hidden in the walls? Several workers demolished for an entire day. Kitchen, bedroom, bathroom… all the interior partitions were torn down, leaving it empty with only four bare load-bearing walls! I stood in the ruins and opened my phone with shaking hands. Surely the electricity couldn’t keep running now. But after logging onto the website, a chill shot straight to the top of my head! The electric bill was still rising at high speed!

This time not just me—even the workers were shocked. They took turns checking my phone. “This is absolutely impossible!” “There’s nothing left in your house. How is it still using electricity?” One worker glanced around and muttered quietly. “Miss, could there be something… unclean… in your house…” Hearing his words, the others’ faces changed instantly. They shoved the phone back at me and fled. Looking at the empty house, my heart filled with despair. I’d never believed in supernatural nonsense, but now except for this, there seemed to be no other explanation. But what should I do? Was I destined to be burdened with massive debt in this life too? Suddenly there was knocking at the door. I opened it to find my parents. They cheerfully handed me fruit and vegetables. “Hazel, we’ve been busy at work these past few days, so we’re only coming to see you now.” “How is it? Are you living comfortably in your new house?” I smiled bitterly and didn’t answer. They looked behind me curiously. The next second, their smiles froze! Dad rushed into the house, looking at the debris on the ground, utterly shocked. “Hazel, what happened?” “Wasn’t this fully furnished when we bought it? How did it become a bare shell?” I pulled out my phone, opened the website, and showed them. My parents’ faces instantly went pale. Dad angrily kicked over a stool on the ground. “Heartless realtor! How dare they scam my daughter!” “Hazel, don’t worry. Dad will go find them right now and make them exchange it for you!” Mom silently helped me clean up the house. Looking at her thin figure, my tears fell uncontrollably. In my past life, I dragged them down, forcing them to borrow from loan sharks to help me pay the debt. This life, I absolutely couldn’t do that again. I walked into the bedroom, found paper in the ruins of the desk, and began writing a will. If in the end I still couldn’t find out why, after my death this house would automatically be donated. That way even if huge fees accumulated later, it would have nothing to do with my parents. As I wrote, I suddenly found a section of wire under the desk. The bedroom wiring wasn’t in this location at all. Why would there be a wire here? Thump thump thump! My heart suddenly pounded violently! Could this be the source of the $100,000 electric bill? Grabbing the wire, I wanted to see where it led. But no matter how hard I pulled, the wire never reached its end. Just as I was puzzled, suddenly Mom’s voice sounded behind me. “Hazel, what are you doing?” I whipped around. Mom’s eyes were fixed deadly on the wire in my hand. Her expression wasn’t like her previous loving one—it carried a hint of darkness. My heart instantly tightened. A bad thought vaguely surfaced. I forced a smile at Mom, trying to sound casual. “Mom, I’m cleaning up the bedroom.” “I want to help so you’re not too tired.” Mom looked at me suspiciously for a few moments, then snatched the wire and shoved it back under the desk before pulling me out of the bedroom. “Mom’s not tired, you don’t need to clean.” “You’ve been mentally and physically exhausted these past few days. You need to rest properly.” I wasn’t willing to give up. I tried to get around Mom to look at that wire again. But unexpectedly, Mom took several steps directly in front of me, her hands gripping me like iron clamps, trying to pull me out of the room again! Looking at Mom’s evasive expression, the panic in my heart grew larger and larger. Why did she keep stopping me from inspecting the wire? Could there really be some unspeakable secret there? The terror of my past life’s death kept crashing over me. I panicked instantly. I shook off Mom’s hands and grabbed that wire, yanking hard! The next second, my pupils shrank!

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My best friend and I gave birth on the same day. As a joke, I suggested we arrange a match between our babies someday. My husband, Ethan Hargrove, went dark in an instant. He looked at me with absolute seriousness. “They’re siblings,” he said. “They can’t marry.” I froze. I was sure I’d misheard him. He smiled — light, unbothered, like he was commenting on the weather. “On our wedding night, after we were done, I slipped a sleeping pill into your drink. She used her bra to cover your face. We went at it until dawn, right there beside you.” “That’s the night you both got pregnant.” The world detonated inside my skull. I turned my head, stiff as a board, toward the bed beside mine — where my best friend, Vivienne Ashton, lay sleeping. Twenty years old. I took fifteen stab wounds saving her life. She told me she would owe me forever. Ethan shifted, blocking my line of sight without any urgency, his tone perfectly casual. “Don’t worry. Vivienne won’t fight you for anything. We’ll all live together. You’ll still be Mrs. Hargrove.” Every drop of blood in my body turned to ice. My phone buzzed against the mattress. A message from an unknown number. *You may abandon the redemption of the target. Do you wish to exit here immediately?* My gaze drifted to Vivienne’s wrist. She was wearing a strand of prayer beads. The same prayer beads I had spent three days on my knees at a Church to obtain when Ethan nearly died in a car accident — praying until my legs gave out, begging for his life. He had never taken them off. Until today. When Vivienne and I had both been wheeled into our delivery rooms at the same time, he hadn’t hesitated for even a second before pressing them into her hand. Ethan calmly reached over and tucked Vivienne’s arm back under her blanket. Then he turned to me and used the pad of his thumb to wipe the tears from my cheek. “You’re a mother now,” he said gently. “Still crying like this?” I slapped his hand away. “Why her?” My voice came out cracked, raw. “She had a boyfriend! You threw yourself at her — do you have any idea how pathetic that is?” Ethan glanced at his hand where I’d struck it, then looked back at me with something like genuine surprise. “You still think the boyfriend she’s been hiding this whole time was someone else?” He seemed to find something funny in that. A short laugh escaped him. “There were times you called her while we were in the middle of it. She’d be trembling, trying so hard not to make a sound.” His expression turned wistful. “Honestly, I’ll miss that.” I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted copper. My throat had closed up completely. I couldn’t make a sound. After a long silence, I finally managed to speak. “Why lie to me? If you’d just told me the truth, I would have stepped aside. I would have let you go.” I would have walked away early, with at least some part of myself still intact. Not like this. Not shattered beyond recognition. Ethan let out a quiet sigh. Something almost like pity moved through his eyes. “What do you expect? We felt guilty.” “The night you were attacked trying to save Vivienne — the night they hurt you until you lost the baby — I was parked around the corner with her.” A pause. “We got carried away. We forgot to call for help.” The last thread holding me together snapped. I remembered that night. Vivienne and I walking back from the movies. The parking garage. The men who came out of the shadows. I threw myself between her and them. I held on, and held on, because I knew she would go for help. I knew she would come back for me. I believed that, all the way through. When I woke up in the hospital, Ethan was holding me, shaking. He swore revenge, and he had delivered. I thought it meant he loved me. Looking at him now — so calm, so unbothered — I understood for the first time that love can be performed. That I had been watching a performance for years. If a kind stranger hadn’t found me that night, I would have died. I grabbed the ceramic soup bowl off the nightstand and hurled it at him. It hit the floor and exploded. Broth spread across the tiles in a dark stain. He had made that soup himself, the night before. It had peanuts in it — Vivienne’s favorite. He had forgotten, or not bothered to remember, that I was allergic to peanuts. It had all been there, all along. I just never let myself see it. Ethan stood perfectly still, broth dripping from his hair, completely composed. He wasn’t angry. He exhaled slowly. “Hate me all you want. I’m only asking one thing — don’t blame Vivienne. She cares about you deeply. She just gave birth, and she’s fragile right now. The last thing she needs is postnatal depression. Please try to understand.” I pressed my fingernails into my palms until the shaking stopped. The incision from my delivery screamed with every breath. It was a constant, visceral reminder that he knew I needed to rest, needed calm, needed care. He simply didn’t care enough to provide it. My phone buzzed again. *The countdown has begun. 24 hours remaining. If no choice is made, you will lose the only chance to leave here.* —

My tears came back without warning. I twisted toward Vivienne’s bed and screamed until my voice tore. “Vivienne Ashton! How long are you going to keep pretending to sleep? Was it that good? Was sleeping with my husband really worth all of this?” Vivienne opened her eyes. Her face was drained of color. She couldn’t look at me. She grabbed the pillow beside her and threw it at Ethan. “How could you tell her? How could you hurt her like this?” “I told you — I didn’t want a title. I was going to leave after the baby came!” Ethan caught her in his arms before she could move again, holding her too tightly, voice breaking apart at the edges. “I couldn’t let you leave. That’s why I told her. Don’t go, Vivienne. Please. Don’t leave me.” “This is all my fault. Don’t move, you’ll tear your stitches—” He’d said those exact words to me once. I thought of what I knew about him. His mother had died when he was small. His father worked constantly. He’d been left alone with a housekeeper who, it turned out, was deeply disturbed — someone who hurt him in secret, over and over, for years. I was ten years old when I kicked down his front door and found him half-dead on the kitchen floor. I dragged him out of that house and he never had to go back. Later, when the housekeeper retaliated, she hired people to take me. Ethan had refused to let go of my hand while they beat him bloody. He held on until the adults came. He stayed at my bedside in the hospital, unable to stop clinging to me even after we arrived. *Don’t leave me, Elara,* he kept saying, over and over. The way he’d looked at me then — like I was the only real thing in his world. He was looking at Vivienne the same way now. I had once asked myself: if we ever fell apart, what would I do? I’d thought about it seriously. My conclusion had been that I’d drag Vivienne to a bar, drink for three days straight, cry until I had nothing left, and then go back to loving him. Because that’s how much I loved him. But it was Vivienne. Who was I supposed to call now? Vivienne wrenched free of Ethan’s arms and collapsed to her knees at the edge of my bed, tears pouring down her face. “Elara, don’t cry. I’ll leave tomorrow. You two can go back to how you were.” I pressed my lips together. The ache in my chest was unbearable. Vivienne had once been a girl from a wealthy family. At five years old, she was the only one who survived a car accident that took everyone else. Her relatives divided up the estate and dumped her in an orphanage, where she was bullied for years. When we met, I begged my parents to take her in. They loved her like a second daughter. She had stood in front of her first birthday cake in our home and cried, and I’d laughed and told her: everything I have, I’ll split with you. Half the good food. Half the good days. Half my parents’ love. She had taken the half of me I never offered. “Get out,” I said through my teeth. “I don’t want to look at you. You’re a liar and a homewrecker and I want you gone.” The babies startled at the noise and began to wail. I lifted my daughter and held her close, trying to soothe her through my own tears. Vivienne buried her face in her hands, broken sounds coming out between her fingers. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—” Ethan’s expression hardened. He picked up Vivienne’s son, and when he turned to face me, his voice was controlled but cold. “You have no idea how much Vivienne tried to protect you. She never wanted you hurt.” He paused. “Vivienne was my fiancée first. She was the one I was always going to marry. That makes you the other woman — not her.” I stared at him. He had told me his fiancée died in a car accident. He had said it to my face, with tears in his eyes. He and Vivienne had met in front of me dozens of times and pretended to barely tolerate each other. I had actually mediated their arguments. I had congratulated myself on finally getting two people I loved to get along. I had been the fool the entire time. I laughed. The kind of laugh that comes out with tears attached. I reached over and tore the prayer beads from Vivienne’s wrist. The string snapped. Beads scattered across the floor like broken teeth. “These were mine,” I said. “You don’t deserve them. Neither of you do.” I held my daughter against my chest, stood up on legs that barely held me, and walked out. Every step felt like walking on glass. The pain from my incision was extraordinary. I didn’t slow down once. Behind me, Vivienne was sobbing. Ethan was saying something cold and furious. My phone buzzed. *18 hours remaining.* —

I wandered the hospital corridor with my baby, hollow and shivering. I should hate Ethan for his cowardice. I should hate Vivienne for her betrayal. But beneath all of it, the thing I hated most was simpler: they had taken two people from me at once. I only had room in my heart for a finite amount of love, and they had used all of it. I sat down on a bench and opened my phone. I went to my photos. A thousand images. More. Ethan and I on a mountain trail at four in the morning, waiting for the sunrise. Kissing in a field of wildflowers somewhere I can’t quite remember now. The three of us on a beach trip — Ethan, me, and Vivienne — laughing in the ocean. There had never been two of us. It had always been three. I just hadn’t known which configuration was real. I deleted every single photo. All fourteen thousand. When I was done, I looked at the screen of my phone. A new message had arrived from the unknown number. *You ask what Ethan Hargrove did wrong. The answer is simple: he stopped loving you. That’s all. No villain, no monster. Just a man who looked away.* I pulled my daughter tighter and laughed — a broken, private sound. *I know.* *I’m sorry, baby girl,* I thought, pressing my lips to the top of her head. *I have to leave you in here. Forgive me.* Let me stay a few more hours. Just a few. Ethan’s shoes appeared in my field of vision. I looked up. He stood there watching me, his expression full of something that looked like remorse. Before I could react, he pulled me into his arms. The familiar warmth of it undid something in me. My tears came back without permission. Part of me — the stupid, stubborn part — whispered: *maybe he still loves you, just a little.* “I’m sorry, Elara. I said a lot of things I shouldn’t have. I wasn’t thinking.” “You have to understand — I panicked. I was afraid Vivienne would actually take the baby and disappear. I needed you to hear the truth, even if it hurt.” “Come back inside. She hasn’t stopped crying since you left—” *Vivienne, Vivienne.* In the end, that was all there was in his eyes. She was the entire world to him, and I was the atmosphere he’d forgotten he needed to breathe. The last fragment of hope I’d been holding went out. I cut him off quietly. “Promise me something. Take care of the baby. Whatever else happens — take care of her.” Ethan blinked. He relaxed, just slightly — misreading the moment entirely. He cupped my face in his hands, his voice lifting. “Of course. I’ll take care of you both. You just had a baby — you need to rest, you need—” His phone rang. He answered it. His face went white in an instant. “I’m coming. Don’t move.” He hung up. The warmth evaporated. He looked at me with something close to accusation. “Vivienne’s baby has a congenital heart defect. They can’t find a compatible donor. She’s already emotionally unstable, and then you deleted your photos — she thinks you’ll never forgive her. She’s on the roof.” His voice was tight. “She’s going to jump.” “You’re coming with me.” He grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the stairwell, not waiting for an answer. The jolt tore something in my incision. I felt warmth spreading between my legs. The corridor blurred at the edges. I bit through the inside of my cheek to stay upright. — The rooftop was cold and brutal with wind. Vivienne stood on the other side of the railing. Her hospital gown billowed around her like something already half-departed. She looked like she might blow away. When she saw me, her eyes lit up — just briefly — then went dark again. Her face was wrecked with crying. “Elara. My baby is dying. And you’ll never forgive me.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I have nothing left. I have nothing at all.” Before I could speak, Ethan’s voice cut across the roof. “Vivienne, listen to me. Elara knows she was wrong. She came up here to ask for your forgiveness.” I spun toward him, stunned. The absurdity of it was almost dizzying. Vivienne didn’t believe him either. Her eyes went glassy, unfocused. “You can’t forgive me.” Her voice dropped lower. “You especially can’t forgive me. Because if you ever found out — that the men who hurt you that night were men I hired—” The ground fell out from under me. I lunged forward. A hand seized my arm and yanked me back hard. I turned to find Ethan, his grip like iron, his eyes like stone. “She was young. She didn’t know what she was doing. She’s nearly destroyed herself with guilt over it — she almost took her own life twice. If I hadn’t stayed with her through those months, you might never have seen her again.” I stood very still. He knew. He had known the truth the entire time. And he had chosen her. I was the one bleeding in the dark, and he looked at me and chose her. —

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For the eighth time at a parent-teacher conference, Vivienne watched her six-year-old son recite his essay , in front of the entire class. The pain in her chest had long since gone numb. The child’s innocent voice cut through the classroom: “My mom, Vivienne Hartley, the most popular porn star, the town’s most notorious homewrecker.” “She used the tricks of a seductress to lure my daddy into abandoning his billion-dollar fortune and his perfectly matched fiancée, running away with her.” “Even though she used her wicked ways to trick Daddy into marrying her, every time I have to look at her, I feel disgusted.” Little Jasper Caldwell’s childlike voice carried unmistakable contempt — each word a curse, each sentence a blade driving straight into Vivienne’s heart. The teacher awkwardly ushered the boy off the stage, but the mocking whispers of the other parents refused to be contained. “God, porn star– even after she cleaned up her act, a woman like that can never wash off the stain. Even her own son thinks she’s filthy!” “Oh, come on — you didn’t hear? No matter what everyone else thinks of her, the Caldwell heir, Sebastian Caldwell, is absolutely mad for her!” “For her sake, he gave up his inheritance and ran away with her.” “Even after she abandoned their newborn on the very day they eloped, took five hundred thousand dollars from the Caldwell family and vanished — even after she left Sebastian wandering like a ghost for five years — the moment he found her again, he dragged her straight to the courthouse and married her on the spot!” Hearing those words, the raw ache in Vivienne’s chest began, ever so slightly, to ease. Even if the entire world misunderstood her, looked down on her — Sebastian loved her without reservation. Again, Jasper declared she was unworthy of knowing anything about him, finished his essay, and had her escorted out of the school. That evening, out of deep concern for the boy, she found herself outside Sebastian’s study, hoping to hear from his assistant what Jasper’s day at school had been like. Just as she reached for the door handle, Vivienne froze. “Mr. Caldwell, as you instructed, this week’s “whore mother” theme essay worked perfectly again. Only…” The assistant’s voice wavered. “…only, is it really good for the young master’s mental health to have him resent the madam this way?” Through the heavy oak door, Sebastian let out a quiet, unhurried laugh — his voice calm as frost. “Has Jasper said a single thing that isn’t true? Besides — Jasper is Diana’s child. You already know that, don’t you?” Standing outside the door, Vivienne felt every drop of blood in her body turn to ice. She could not believe what she was hearing. Diana? The woman Sebastian had married as a political match after Vivienne disappeared — the woman Jasper had called Mom for five years? But hadn’t he told her he only married Diana so Jasper could have a complete family? He had said the very sight of Diana bothered him. And Jasper — the child she had carried for ten months and brought into the world — how had he become Diana’s? Sebastian’s cool, measured voice betrayed no emotion. “When I first brought Vivienne back, I was afraid she couldn’t bear the shock of learning the baby had died. So I passed off the child Diana and I had together as hers. Diana was forced to be separated from Jasper — I owe her that.” The world exploded inside Vivienne’s skull. “Has the video of Jasper reading the essay been sent to Diana?” “Every clip has been forwarded to Miss Diana — recorded in high definition, with a close-up of the madam’s face the moment she heard it.” “Miss Diana was extremely pleased. She said she’d send back your favorite cufflinks as a thank-you gift…” Sebastian’s voice finally warmed with what sounded like genuine amusement. “Diana is still so easy to please. All it takes is humiliating Vivienne, and she cooperates with everything.” “Unlike Vivienne — completely used up by the world, and she still plays the trauma card with me. Won’t even let me turn on a light. Makes me sick.” The assistant, baffled, asked: “Mr. Caldwell, do you feel Vivienne isn’t worthy of being your wife? Then why — after five years of searching — did you divorce Diana on the spot and marry Vivienne the moment you found her? Who is it you actually love?” Sebastian’s amused voice had once reached down into the depths of hell to pull Vivienne back to the living. Now, it pushed her back in — without so much as a second glance. “I love Vivienne. I believe she had her reasons for leaving me. The title of Mrs. Caldwell will always be hers. But… she has been tainted.” “Diana loves me, asks nothing in return, keeps things interesting, and Jasper is closer to her anyway. Having a wife without a title suits me fine — Jasper gets to be with his birth mother, and nothing is disturbed.” Vivienne could not recall how she made it from outside the study back to the bedroom. She only knew that shame and shattering grief were tearing her apart from the inside — her whole body cold as stone — yet she could not shed a single tear. So — on the very night they had planned to elope, Diana had already been carrying Sebastian’s child. Everything Jasper had ever said was true: she was not his mother. She was the third party who had destroyed his parents’ love. Sebastian’s love had been adulterated from the very start. And now, it was nothing but a web of lies. That night, Sebastian held her from behind as usual, murmuring softly that Jasper had had a good day at school. She reached for one last thread of hope, tentatively pressing her hand to his chest. He held her hand still. “Tired tonight.” Vivienne lay awake into the small hours. The sound of running water drifted from the bathroom — and beneath it, the low, muffled sounds of a man’s labored breathing. She had always assumed it was him managing his own needs out of consideration for her trauma. But tonight, when she drew closer, she heard clearly — a woman’s voice coming from his phone. “Even better over the phone, isn’t it? Aren’t you afraid of waking your current wife, Sebastian…” “Please. She’s a block of wood. Even if she hears, she’ll just think I’m thinking of her…” Breathless murmurs flooded the silence. The last strand of hope Vivienne had been holding snapped clean. She swallowed the churning agony in her gut and sent a message to a saved number. “The plan you proposed — the fake death. I accept.”

The reply came quickly: “You can really let go of Sebastian?” Vivienne gave a hollow, bitter twist of her lips. But tears fell in fat drops onto the screen, blurring the message. She typed a single word: “Yes.” His heart had long been divided in two. What was the point of fighting for half of it? The irony was almost funny. Sebastian — the man who swore, over and over, that even if she had truly sold herself, he would never mind. And yet, just like everyone else — he found her dirty. Seven years ago, she and Sebastian had fallen in love, only to face fierce opposition from the Caldwell family. The night she gave birth to their child — unmarried — they made their plan to elope. But the Caldwells sent men to abduct her in secret, sold her overseas, and told Sebastian she had taken their money and abandoned him and the baby. She spent five years in a living hell abroad — but guarded her innocence with her life. Sebastian, though he had married his arranged match, never stopped looking for her. Finally, when Jasper was six, Sebastian followed a thread of evidence to the overseas compound and broke her out. He didn’t need a single word of explanation from her. He divorced Diana on the spot and married Vivienne immediately. But five years apart had left the child distant from her, and photographs taken of her under duress had somehow leaked. Everyone assumed she had sold herself willingly, that she had become a kept woman for money. No matter how thoroughly the world condemned her, Sebastian had never let it change him — not for a moment. He, who always doted on the child, even scolded Jasper sternly on more than one occasion: be good to Mom. But Jasper was never her child at all. Through those five years of torment, the greatest thing keeping her alive had been Sebastian and their baby. Now there was nothing left. Sebastian came out of the bathroom looking thoroughly satisfied, the scent of desire still clinging to him, and settled back into bed. The moment his fingers touched her tear-wet cheek, he pulled her close with an almost instinctive reflex. “What’s wrong, Viv? Another nightmare? It’s okay — I’m here. I’m right here.” He kissed her tears away with tender, careful lips. Those five years had left Vivienne with severe trauma. In the early days after their reunion, she woke screaming from nightmares every single night. No matter how important the next day was, Sebastian sat up with her through every hour of darkness. Just so she’d know, when she opened her eyes, that he was there. To help her heal, he had sought out every renowned therapist he could find, and pushed himself to become something like a therapist himself. But the way his kiss instinctively veered away from her lips — just barely, unconsciously — still betrayed him. Vivienne wept quietly, then suddenly smiled. “Sebastian, there’s a document I need you to sign tomorrow.” She wanted to leave without any ties to Sebastian or his family. Divorce was the necessary first step of her plan. A drowsy Sebastian didn’t question it. “Sure — after we visit the cemetery tomorrow, hand it to me.” The next day was Vivienne’s late mother’s memorial. Sebastian had promised to go with her. He still rose early to make her breakfast, as always. The distinguished man, wrapped in an apron, stood at the stove carefully stirring a pot of porridge — the picture of a devoted husband to any outside eye. But this time, Vivienne noticed: he had made two servings. Just as he finished ladling the second bowl, Jasper appeared in the kitchen doorway and tugged at Sebastian’s sleeve. “Daddy, Mom’s asking where breakfast is! Don’t forget — she gets stomach cramps if she skips!” Sebastian immediately quickened his movements, packed the second breakfast to go, and swept out the door with Jasper’s hand in his, calling back out of habit: “Viv, I’m dropping Jasper off at school — back soon to take you to the cemetery. Let the porridge cool a bit before you drink it, okay? Don’t burn yourself.” The warmth of those words had barely faded before father and son disappeared. Vivienne stood alone in the kitchen until the porridge went completely cold. Then she swallowed it in silence. The housekeeper found her and gasped. “Madam! Why are you drinking it cold? If Mr. Caldwell sees this, he’ll be heartbroken!” Her stomach was already ice. But Vivienne felt nothing — only a dry, self-mocking smile. Would he really be heartbroken? His eyes seemed to have stopped seeing her a long time ago. She waited from breakfast until dinnertime. Sebastian never came. The driver lingered awkwardly. “Mr. Caldwell may have gotten tied up — would you like me to take you to the office to wait?” Vivienne caught a glimpse of Jasper’s social media page. “Daddy and Mommy came to cheer for me at the track meet — Jasper is the luckiest kid in the world!” The photo showed Sebastian and Diana, both leaning in to kiss Jasper’s cheeks. She hadn’t even known there was a track meet today. That picture of their perfect little family made her feel like a shadow — a dark, intrusive thing lurking at the edges of a life she had no right to. Vivienne tucked the signed divorce papers into her bag. “We won’t wait for Sebastian. Take me to see my mother.” One last visit to her mother’s grave — and then she would leave this city forever. But she never expected what awaited her at the cemetery. She had barely passed through the gate when her mother’s headstone cracked apart with a thundering crash and toppled at her feet. And standing before the grave — was Diana.

The carved epitaph shattered into pieces. The black-and-white portrait of her mother was smeared with filth. A crew of workers huddled around it, shovels already raised toward the burial mound. Vivienne’s mind went blank. She lunged forward, staring at Diana in disbelief. “What are you doing?” Diana smiled pleasantly. “Why, Mrs. Caldwell — I’m digging up your mother’s grave.” Vivienne’s whole body shook with fury as she planted herself in front of the excavator. “This is my mother’s resting place. The land belongs to the Caldwells — how dare you?” Diana swept her hair back, contempt glinting in her eyes. “I called you ‘Mrs. Caldwell’ out of pity. You signed a registry — that doesn’t make you Sebastian’s wife. Caldwell land does what I say.” “What are you waiting for — get to work!” At her command, the workers moved toward the excavator controls. In desperation, Vivienne clambered into the driver’s seat and wrenched the steering wheel hard. The machine lurched — straight toward Diana’s head. Diana went white. Only her bodyguard’s swift intervention saved her from taking the blow. Shaking, she stared at Vivienne’s white-knuckled grip on the wheel. “You’re just some woman my husband slept with for years, and you dare raise a hand against me?” The driver lunged in, kicking Vivienne hard in the stomach — once, twice, again and again. She bit down on the pain and refused to let go. “Sebastian would rather put a ring on a kept woman than ever give you a name!” Diana’s eyes flooded with venom. “Throw her under the excavator — grind her into the dirt!” The bodyguards surged forward to drag Vivienne away. But the moment they reached for her, a black Maybach rolled through the cemetery gates. Sebastian was out of the car in three strides. He knocked the bodyguards aside and crushed Vivienne against him. “Diana! How many times have I warned you — don’t touch my wife!” He searched Vivienne carefully, and when he saw the bruises blooming across her stomach, the anguish in his eyes was almost unbearable. “Viv, I’m sorry I came late…” His gaze cut to Diana, cold as a blade. “How many times have I said it — you lost the right to interfere in my life when we divorced. Push me further, and I’ll turn the Harrington name to ash.” Yet Diana, rather than flinching at the threat, only tilted her head with a faint smile. And Vivienne had already noticed — on both Sebastian’s and Diana’s wrists were the matching parent-child bracelets the school had given out. The heat of Sebastian’s body against hers, the fierceness with which he was shielding her — it overlapped with the memory of the man who had broken into that compound to save her. And it moved her not at all. Vivienne stepped out of his arms and addressed Diana coldly. “What exactly do you want?” Diana didn’t answer. She just gave Sebastian a look. Sebastian rushed to explain. “Viv, this land was sold to the Harrington family for a development project. All the remains were relocated — your mother is fine. I had her moved to a better place, and the headstone was remade. Things have been hectic — I forgot to tell you.” The workers uncovered the burial mound. It was empty, just as he said. Vivienne exhaled with relief. And then came the absurdity of it. He had been thinking about accompanying her to visit her mother just this morning — yet he had forgotten to mention that the grave had been moved. She pressed her hand over her bruised stomach and pushed aside his reaching hand. “Take me to see my mother. And after that, I’ll give you that document to sign.” Sebastian walked her toward the car. Diana got there first. “Mr. Caldwell, there are some business matters we still need to discuss.” As she passed Sebastian, her fingers trailed lightly across his arm. Sebastian’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly. “Viv, wait just a moment — let me speak with Ms. Harrington first…” The two of them slipped into the car. Almost immediately, sounds began to filter through the doors. Sebastian trusted the Maybach’s soundproofing far too much. He had forgotten that Vivienne also had the key to disable it. She pressed the switch on her phone in a kind of self-inflicted cruelty, dropping the noise barrier to its lowest setting. From inside the car came a muffled gasp. “Diana — in the car — Viv is right outside…” Diana’s voice came out soft and breathless. “Isn’t that what makes it exciting? Every time she had one of her episodes and passed out, we were at her bedside. Three hours minimum — and she always thought she’d just had another nightmare.” Vivienne went pale. Every time her trauma surfaced and she lost consciousness, she would wake to terrible, sickening dreams. And Sebastian would always be at her side, tender and steady, swearing he hadn’t left for even a second. She still remembered the journey back from the compound — how he had cried the entire way, his whole body covered in wounds, his voice barely a rasp as he promised: From now on, he would never leave her side. He hadn’t lied about that. He truly hadn’t left. He’d just been at her bedside with Diana while she slept. A wave of nausea surged up Vivienne’s throat. She gripped the back of the car, retching helplessly. Inside the car, the movement suddenly stopped. Diana’s voice came out annoyed. “Vivienne’s bag is poking me.” “Just move it.” Sebastian’s voice cut off abruptly. “The document in her bag — what is it?”

The next instant, the car window rolled down. Diana flung Vivienne’s clutch bag straight out. “It’s just in the way,” Diana drawled. “What could a housewife possibly have that matters?” Sebastian’s voice was light. “You’re probably right.” The sounds from inside the car resumed — each one landing on Vivienne like a fresh cut, draining another shade of color from her face. Trembling, she crouched down and picked up the divorce papers, now soaked through by a puddle. From dusk until dark, Sebastian finally pushed open the car door. A flush lingered on his face — one he himself seemed unaware of. He walked over to take her hand as if nothing had happened. Vivienne glanced at the still-damp upholstery on the seat. “No, thank you. I find it disgusting too.” She climbed into the assistant’s car on her own. Sebastian, assuming she was upset over the earlier confrontation and had gotten dirt on her clothes, frowned and followed her in. His long fingers reached for a wet cloth and gently wiped at her brow. “A little dust, that’s all. Our Viv is never dirty — always the most beautiful girl in the room, no matter what.” He smiled, the softness in his eyes deep enough to drown any woman who looked too long. Vivienne met his gaze directly. She wanted to smile back, the way he did — as if nothing had happened. But the corners of her eyes reddened instead, and two tears fell straight down. “Sebastian. You forgot to sign the document.” She held out the papers, red-eyed. Sebastian, thrown into a panic at the sight of her crying, didn’t even glance at them before scrawling his signature and frantically saying, “Whatever you hand me, I’ll sign. You could sell Caldwell Corp and I’d sign for it.” What if it were divorce papers? Vivienne swallowed the question before it reached her lips. Sebastian spent the entire drive home making promises — he would deal with Diana, and there would be a surprise waiting for her tonight. They arrived at the new cemetery. It was immaculate, just as he said. Sebastian knelt solemnly before the headstone and pressed his forehead to the ground three times. “Ma’am, I’m taking good care of Vivienne. I’ll protect her peace for the rest of my life.” Looking at his tall frame bowing before her mother’s grave, Vivienne felt something shift, just for a moment. When the Caldwell family had stood against them, Sebastian had knelt before the ancestral altar in the clan hall and knocked his head against the ground until his face was raw and bleeding — and he had said only one thing: “Sebastian Caldwell will marry no one but Vivienne Hartley. I beg my ancestors to allow it.” He had never broken that vow. He had married her. It was just that love and a divided heart were not mutually exclusive. Marriage and faithfulness were two entirely different things. Sebastian rose and reached into his coat, producing a photograph. Vivienne’s eyes lit up. It was her family portrait from childhood. After the Hartley family fell from fortune in her early years, the house was auctioned off and everything inside disappeared, including every photograph they’d ever had. “Tracked it down across the globe — found it in the hands of a collector. I knew you’d be happy to have it back.” Sebastian’s eyes were bright with the look of a man presenting a treasure — almost boyish in his excitement. Vivienne accepted the photograph. Something stirred in her deadened heart. But then a sharp, acrid stench struck her without warning. Diana appeared from nowhere, hugging a basin of chicken blood — and hurled it directly at her mother’s headstone. The pristine marble was drenched in filth. Vivienne’s pupils contracted. She stepped forward and shoved Diana aside. “Diana! Come after me if you want — what kind of person desecrates a dead woman’s grave?” The repeated violation of her mother’s resting place ignited something raw and uncontrolled in Vivienne’s chest. But mindful that Diana was still Jasper’s birth mother, she had held back. Diana, however, reacted as though she had been struck by a battering ram — letting out a shriek and crashing dramatically to the ground. Sebastian’s eyes snapped to her in an instant. He crossed the distance in three steps and caught Diana in his arms. “Diana — are you all right? Are you hurt?” “How could you do this to her–” The words that rose instinctively to Sebastian’s lips — instinct born of his panic over Diana — died the moment he looked up and saw Vivienne’s ashen face. The emptiness in her eyes was frightening. And she was staring directly at his arms, wrapped tight around Diana. For one fractured second, Sebastian’s gaze faltered. But then Diana began to cry. And he could no longer spare a thought for anything else. He lifted Diana into his arms and strode away. “Viv, Diana is a critical business partner for Caldwell Corp. She can’t afford to be injured. I’m taking her to the doctor — I’ll come back for you soon.” He carried Diana out at a near-run, urgency overtaking him. He didn’t look back once — not at the headstone soaked in blood, and not at the dead, hollow look in Vivienne’s eyes. She crouched there, using her own clothes to scrub the filth from the stone. The tears that finally came dropped one by one onto her mother’s photograph. Mom — that man who just knelt and swore he’d protect me forever — I don’t believe him anymore. He’s the best liar in the world. Don’t believe him either, okay? The blood and grime smeared into one another. Vivienne’s heart felt like it was being carved open. And then a crew of workers came crashing through, shouting and laughing — and when they spotted Vivienne, a few of them exchanged a look and grinned. “Mr. Caldwell’s orders — everything at the site gets cleared into the ground.” Strong hands grabbed her and threw her into an open grave that had yet to be filled.

She hit the bottom hard, soil raining down into her face, choking her nose and mouth. “What are you doing?! I’m a living person!” The workers only laughed harder. “Not for long.” As more earth poured in, the horror of being buried alive set Vivienne’s skin crawling. Her voice shook. “I’m Sebastian Caldwell’s wife — if you do this, he won’t let you walk away.” The shovels didn’t slow. Laughter echoed through the cemetery. “Give it a rest! The order to bury you came from Mr. Caldwell himself!” “Besides — everyone knows Mr. Caldwell’s wife is Diana Harrington. You’re not fooling anyone.” Vivienne’s voice cut through in desperation. “That’s impossible! Sebastian would never do this to me — you’ve made a mistake!” One of the workers paused. “Fine. If you really are Mrs. Caldwell, I’ll call him and ask who his wife is.” A flicker of hope. The worker dialed. “Mr. Caldwell — we’ve got a live one in the pit. That’s your order, correct?” Sebastian’s voice was perfectly calm. “Yes. She hurt Diana. Teach her a lesson.” Vivienne felt her heart plummet into darkness. The worker held up the phone and looked at her with a mocking grin. “Mr. Caldwell — is Diana Harrington your wife?” “Of course. Why are you asking something everyone already knows? Get it done — Diana is already on my case about this.” Sebastian hung up. The workers looked down at her, roaring with laughter. “Never seen someone delusional enough to claim she’s the boss’s wife!” “Ready to give up now?” Vivienne looked up one last time at her mother’s face on the headstone. Sebastian’s family portrait was still pressed to her chest. She closed her eyes. A boundless desolation filled her. As the earth closed over her, Vivienne’s mind drifted, hazy and dim. She remembered a night after she had first come back to Sebastian — a nightmare so bad she’d stopped breathing. Sebastian, eyes red, tears streaming down onto her face, had performed CPR over and over. When she finally came back, he held her like a child and sobbed without restraint. “For five years, the only thing keeping me alive was the belief that you were still out there.” “No matter how much it hurt — whether you left because you were threatened, or because you genuinely chose the money over me — as long as I knew you existed somewhere in the world, I could bear it.” “But Viv, how could I ever stand by and watch you disappear from this world entirely?” It was his tears, his voice, that had given her the will to fight back to life. And it was that same man who, for Diana’s sake, had ordered her buried alive without a second thought. So be it. At least she didn’t have to make some elaborate plan to disappear. But a frantic voice broke through the dark, pulling her back. Hands tore at the packed earth — and Vivienne opened her eyes. Sebastian was on his knees in the dirt, his always-immaculate hands scooping the earth away bare-handed. “Viv — I’m here. Viv, don’t you dare leave me!” She woke in a hospital bed. Sebastian gripped her hand, his voice raw. “Viv, you scared me to death. I thought I was losing you again.” But Vivienne only looked at him. That vacant stare sent an involuntary tremor through Sebastian’s pulse. “Viv, are you angry with me? I can explain.” He softened his voice in that familiar, coaxing way. “I cleaned up your mother’s grave with my own hands.” When she said nothing, he filled the silence himself. “Diana explained — the new cemetery requires a ritual cleansing before use. It’s superstition, but what can you do. I talked to her about it.” Vivienne looked at him making excuses for Diana, and her chest ached with a bitterness she could no longer name. “Afterward, Diana told me there was a man harassing her at the site, so I told her I’d handle it.” “I didn’t know you were still there. You got caught in the middle — this was all a misunderstanding.” Vivienne said, very quietly, “I heard it myself. A worker asked you — is Diana your wife — and you said yes. Was that a misunderstanding too?” Sebastian’s expression tightened. The careful tenderness in his eyes was gone, replaced by a shadow of impatience. “Viv, you’re aware of the rumors that follow you.” “Introducing Diana as my wife publicly — that was wrong of me. But it was also the situation I was in…” “If the outside world knew the Caldwell heir’s wife was someone like you — it would affect the stock price.” Sebastian loosened his tie with a touch of exhaustion. “Viv, I need you to be reasonable. Think about the bigger picture.” Think about the bigger picture? Vivienne lowered her eyes. She almost wanted to laugh. For the sake of the bigger picture, they’d had no wedding. For the sake of the family name, she never appeared in public. Every time Jasper publicly humiliated her, she had swallowed it without a word. She had been careful, obedient, invisible — and what had she gotten in return? A man who had been spinning her in circles while she played the fool. She thought of the divorce papers he had already signed. “I’ll be reasonable, Sebastian.” She met his eyes and smiled.

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After returning home as the Alpha’s true daughter, I told Mom about it. I was bound by the Blood-Tie — the ancient Moon Goddess covenant. Whatever injury I suffered, my blood kin would suffer too. Alpha Richard let out a low, dismissive scoff. “You’ve been reading too much human fantasy?” To prove it, I grabbed a pair of scissors and snipped off a small lock of my hair. Mom’s hair dropped in the exact same spot with a sharp snap. Dad instantly clapped a hand to his own head. Both brothers came thundering down the stairs. “What the hell — why is there a bald patch on my head?!” The four of them stood in the great hall, exchanging bewildered looks, their inner wolves restless and confused. Once they confirmed it was real, Mom and Dad issued an absolute order — no one was to lay a single finger on me. Enforcers watched over me around the clock. When Seraphina, the fake daughter, came home, she was furious enough to draw blood. On my first day at Lycan Academy, she had my guards pulled away and cornered me in the restroom. A group of her followers surrounded me. Seraphina crossed her arms and smiled coldly. “Silver needles ready? I want a thousand holes in her.” “…” “As long as the wounds are small, she’ll have no proof to report us.” I was backed into a corner. I watched them advance on me, needles raised, step by step. My eyes stung. I lowered my voice in warning. “Are you… sure you want to do this?” The next second. A silver needle drove into my arm. From down the hall came a sudden, sharp howl of pain. “Who the hell just stabbed me?!” It was my second brother Jaxon’s voice, bellowing from his classroom. Seraphina flinched instinctively at the sound. I pressed my hand over the wound, gritting my teeth against the burn of silver. “Seraphina, you touched me today. Mom and Dad won’t let this go.” Seraphina squeezed the remaining needles in her fist. She recovered herself and gave me a cold smile. “You’re nothing but a stray wolf Mom and Dad dragged out of some forgotten human territory.” The girls around her burst out laughing. “Exactly. The Silver Moon Pack took you in to guard the gates. Since when do strays think they’re the Alpha’s heir?” Seraphina toyed with the needles between her fingers, smiling with satisfaction. “You think carrying Silver Moon blood makes you better than me?” “Mom and Dad only have guards on you because they’re afraid a wild girl like you can’t handle Pack life without causing trouble.” She tilted her head, her laugh low and unbothered. “I’ve been raised as the Alpha’s daughter for eighteen years. Every wolf in the Northern Packs knows my name.” “And you think you can shake my place just because you’re their real child?” I heard all of it and felt nothing but tired. I stood and turned to go back to class. Seraphina stepped in front of me. “Want to leave? Then get yourself out of the Silver Moon Pack first.” I pressed my hand over the needle wound, frowning. “Seraphina, what is wrong with you?” “I didn’t take your room. I didn’t ask Mom and Dad to send you away.” “What gives a fake like you the right to drive me out?” Seraphina’s expression darkened at that word. She shot a look at the two girls beside her. “Hold her down. That last round was too light.” Just as the needles were about to come down again — My phone rang. Seraphina’s hand froze. She reached over and snatched it from my pocket. When she saw the screen, she held it up in front of my face with a cold laugh. “Impressive. You’ve been gone barely an hour and Mom, Dad, and both brothers are flooding your phone.” Seraphina bit her lip, and something dark crept into her eyes. “So what would happen if you actually disappeared for good?” My phone kept lighting up, call after call, over and over. Every single one, she declined. I looked up at her, voice steady. “Seraphina, you really can’t hurt me. If I’m hurt, Mom, Dad, and the brothers feel it too.” “They’ll tear you apart for this.” Seraphina lifted one brow, utterly unconcerned. The needles were rising again when her own phone went off. The caller ID said Jaxon. Her eyes lit up. “My brother still cares about me most.” She answered. His voice came through. “Seraphina. Elara is missing.” The hand squeezing the needles went white. Her expression locked in place. He wasn’t asking about her. Only me. “Someone said she was pulled into the restroom.” “I’m already on my way.” Seraphina’s head snapped up. The next second, the restroom door shook with frantic, thundering blows. “Open up!” “Everyone out — now!” Every last drop of color drained from her face.

I opened my mouth to call out — the word brother died before it left my lips. The two girls holding me reacted instantly, clamping their hands over my mouth. Seraphina’s eyes swept the room. She pulled a silver dagger from her jacket and pressed it against my throat. She dropped her voice to a lethal whisper, every word deliberate. “Hold the blade on her. She makes a sound, you draw blood.” The pounding outside became a full crash against the door. Seraphina shoved me into one of the stall compartments. Left two girls watching me. The silver blade never left my neck. She leaned close to my ear. “Make a sound and I’ll end you right here.” I clenched my fists and forced myself to nod. The look on her face — she meant it. If something happened to me, Mom and Dad would— No. Absolutely not. I’d been a lone wolf for eighteen years. I would not lose the family I’d only just found. The door was seconds away from giving. Seraphina called out toward it, her voice easy. “Jaxon… Elara’s not in here. I had stomach cramps, that’s why I didn’t answer.” She pushed the door open, one hand pressed to her stomach. Jaxon didn’t say a word. He shoved past her and stepped inside. “Elara, are you in here? Did someone hurt you?” Seraphina grabbed his arm. “Jaxon, this is the girls’ room. What do you think you’re doing?” “She probably wandered off to explore. It’s the Academy — there’s plenty to see.” She tried to push him back out. He brushed her off. The space went quiet for a few seconds. The phone of the girl standing beside me lit up. A text from Seraphina. The girl’s eyes turned hard as she looked at me. She shifted the dagger to my collarbone and pressed down, voice barely a breath. “Don’t you dare.” She dragged the blade across my collarbone in a thin, sharp line. I bit down on my lip, sweat breaking cold across my forehead. Outside, Jaxon let out a sudden cry and grabbed at his own collarbone where the mirrored wound had opened. “Elara wouldn’t just wander off. Something’s wrong.” “Seraphina, come with me. We need to find Elara.” He answered his phone mid-step and strode out. Seraphina waited until his footsteps faded, then shut the door. The way she looked at me completely changed. Like something that wanted to feed. “Elara. I didn’t expect it — Jaxon actually cares about you that much.” Her eyes went cold. “I can’t let you go home.” The girls taped my mouth shut. Then pressed a mask over the tape. “We move her to the abandoned silver mine outside Pack territory.” “The walls there are thick. No sound gets out.” “I want her to understand what it costs to cross me.” One girl hooked her arm through mine. The other hid the blade under my academy jacket, point pressed to my ribs. I didn’t make a sound the entire walk out. We were almost through the front gates when Jaxon came running from the other direction. He grabbed the girl with the blade by the shoulder. His voice was urgent. “Chloe — you’re in Elara’s class. Have you seen her?” “No.” Chloe yanked me forward, trying to pull us away. I lifted my eyes slowly and looked straight at Jaxon. His gaze caught mine. He frowned. There was no time for him to think it through. Chloe dug the blade point harder into my ribs. Jaxon’s hand flew to his side. We both looked away at the same moment. “I have to move faster.” He turned toward the car waiting at the gates. I was being dragged forward, but I looked too. It was my eldest brother, Silas. Blood was seeping through his shirt at the collarbone. He walked toward the car, knuckles cracking. “Whoever dared lay a hand on my sister — you’d better enjoy breathing while you can.” The two girls holding me went rigid. Silas raised his eyes and looked straight toward me. At the same moment, Chloe shoved the blade in harder. She pressed her mouth to my ear. “Move. Now. Or I’ll finish you here.”

Silas and Jaxon cried out at the same instant. Both of them dropped to their knees, doubled over. They locked eyes, and their expressions turned to ice. “Elara’s in danger.” “If we waste any more time, we lose everyone.” Silas’s face went dark. By then, my mouth was sealed with tape. I couldn’t make a sound. The blade was still in their hands. No matter how fast my brothers moved, they couldn’t outrun steel. I lowered my head and looked away. And I didn’t want my family hurt because of me. By the time they shoved me into the abandoned silver mine, the sky had gone completely black. I didn’t know how long had passed before Seraphina arrived. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, staring down at me. “Elara.” “You really are something.” “One day back, and you’ve already got the entire Silver Moon Pack losing their minds over you.” She laughed, low and cold. “Over a hundred pack members are out searching for you right now.” “Side branches, elders — everyone’s been called in.” She gritted her teeth. “Even Elder Vance, who never leaves his territory, came rushing back.” I knew the Pack House must be in complete chaos. I struggled against my restraints, muffled sounds forcing their way past the tape. I wanted to tell her about the Blood-Tie. She didn’t care. She thought I was just thrashing. She drove her boot into my stomach. The pain exploded outward, white and blinding. I curled on the ground. Tears fell before I could stop them. It was exactly like being small again — back in the human orphanage where the other children would corner me. Seraphina crouched down. Ripped the tape from my mouth. Gripped my jaw. “Talk.” “What exactly makes you so different?” “Your face?” “Or your bloodline?” I forced the words out. They came in broken pieces. “It’s not… that…” “It’s the… Blood-Tie…” “When I’m hurt…” “They’re hurt too…” The girls paused for a moment. Then erupted in laughter. Seraphina looked at me like I’d just told the worst joke she’d ever heard. “A blood covenant?” “What is this, a low-budget werewolf drama?” I bit down hard. A deeper pain was gathering low in my body — my cycle, from the cold and the stress. I pushed everything I had left into a single sentence, barely above a whisper. “If I die —” “Every soul in the Silver Moon Pack dies with me.” A beat of silence. Then Seraphina laughed — and kept laughing, louder and louder. “If that’s true, then perfect.” She leaned down, her eyes vicious. “If they all die, I’m the only one left.” “Then everything the Silver Moon Pack owns — it’s all mine.” She paused, letting the smile settle. “But it’s not true. So it doesn’t matter.” Across the territory, inside the Silver Moon Pack House — The great hall was full of bodies on the floor. Every blood relative of the Pack, writhing, clutching their stomachs, unable to stand. Elder Vance, old and already frail, passed out cold from the pain. Luna Helen’s face had gone the color of ash. “Find her. Now.” “Whoever took Elara wants her dead.” “Every minute we wait, we lose more of our own.” The hall was crowded — Alphas, high-ranking warriors, Elder Council members. Everyone across every rank of the Pack. And every single one of them had one purpose. Find Elara. That night, every enforcers’ signal lit up across the Silver Moon territory. Pack communication channels screamed with emergency alerts from one end to the other. Outside the mine, distant howls of patrol wolves carried toward us. Seraphina heard them. The hatred in her eyes sharpened. “I was always the Alpha’s daughter.” “Eighteen years I stood by this family.” “You come back for one day and everything changes?” Her eyes had gone red. Tears slid down her face. “I only meant to teach you a lesson. But now —” Her voice dropped below freezing. “I’ve changed my mind.” One of the girls came running back in from outside. Seraphina waved her over. The girl nodded and immediately looped a rope over an iron hook bolted to the ceiling. Beneath it, the floor had been soaked with alcohol-drenched wolfsbane cloth. Seraphina smiled, dismissed the others, and lit a candle. The flame caught the rope and began to eat slowly downward. She pressed the tape back over my mouth, then stepped to the doorway. “By the time I walk back into the Pack House, this place will be going up.” She smiled lightly. “And when it does, the Silver Moon Pack will only have one daughter left.” “They’ll have no choice but to love me.” Right then, her phone rang. She glanced at the screen and answered. Silas’s voice came through. “Seraphina. Enforcers tracked Elara’s phone signal.”

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After my foster sister died, my Alpha brother became the person who hated me most. He hated me so much that he sent me to the werewolf black market to be auctioned off for entertainment. What I went through there was beyond words. On my knees, I begged him for mercy, but all I saw in his eyes was hatred. If it weren’t for you, Lydia wouldn’t have died on that operating table! You killed her, now spend the rest of your life paying for it. But when a Rogue attack came, he didn’t hesitate to pull me into his arms, shielding me from every lethal blow. Blood was coughed against my ear, warm and thick. If there’s a next life, I’d rather never have you as my sister. Lydia is all I need. I lunged at the Rogues, dragging them down with me—only to wake up five years in the past. This time, my brother, I’ll give you what you want. You’ll only have one sister. I made my decision. Delilah! You burned Lydia’s hand in boiling water just for a piece of candy She saved your life! How did I end up with such an ungrateful sister The familiar voice rang in my ears. I opened my eyes slowly, stunned by the scene in front of me. This was five years ago—the day I scalded my foster sister Lydia Alvarez’s hand. I really went back in time. And there he was. My brother. No blood on his lips, no wounds on his body. He was healthy. My nose stung. I forced down the wave of emotions and rasped, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have burned Lydia’s hand. He froze. I looked at him and smiled bitterly. That candy, it was the one he’d shoved into my palm years ago, eyes red, trying to calm me down after our parents died in that car crash. Delilah, don’t cry. I’m here. I’ll take care of you. He was just a kid then, but he had to step up as an Alpha and raise me. It made sense he’d forgotten about that candy. I shouldn’t hold it against him. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I lowered my head to Lydia, who was lying in the hospital bed. I’m sorry. I won’t fight you for his attention anymore. Lydia blinked, then her eyes welled up. She looked ready to cry again. Sis, I didn’t mean to step on your candy, I… Without a word, I turned, grabbed the freshly boiled water from the bedside table, and poured it over my own right arm. A searing pain exploded through me. Cold sweat soaked my back instantly. I was shaking so hard I could barely breathe. Does that make us even They both stared, completely thrown by my sudden shift. My brother was the first to snap out of it. He grabbed my wrist, shouting, Delilah, are you insane Before I could answer, he snapped at the guards by the door. What are you waiting for Get a doctor! A warmth bloomed in my chest. I watched him, comforted. Back then, he still cared. His eyes weren’t cold yet. Weren’t full of hate. That felt good. Even though I knew this love was never really mine, I still clung to the warmth of his grip. But before I could speak, Lydia sniffled and tugged at his sleeve. I know she just wants you all to herself… but she doesn’t have to play the martyr. Then she turned to me, tears streaming. Please don’t hurt yourself. You’re his real sister. I’m just adopted. That did it. His expression cooled. I pressed my lips together, ready to defend myself, then stopped. Sure enough, his voice came out cold. And here I was, stupid enough to hope. You really are something else. Are you even my real sister After everything I’d been through, this was nothing. I lowered my head. Whatever you say. You— He choked, pointing at me, lost for words. Finally, he turned to a Beta. Take her to get that arm treated. Keep her away from Lydia. I nodded and quietly walked out. But I didn’t go get treated. Because from the moment I woke up in the past, a familiar sharp pain had been spreading from my heart to every nerve in my body. I could barely stand. Right. Last time around, today was the day I was diagnosed with Lycan Heart-Core Failure. Without a transplant, I had less than two weeks.

I’d always been a sickly child. The pack’s witch had foretold that I would never shift—never have a wolf of my own. Unlike other werewolves, I had no ability to heal. I was, for all intents and purposes, human. A simple flu, a bad fall, a broken bone, any of it could kill me. Worst part I had a clotting disorder. Almost bled out once during surgery. My body couldn’t handle the strength of the werewolf bloodline. No one in the pack could save me. My brother completely lost control. Searched everywhere until he found the one Omega who could donate—Lydia. Her blood saved my life. That was how she went from being the lowest Omega in the pack to the adopted daughter of our father, Noah, Alpha of Silverclaw. But after that, my brother changed. He stopped caring about me. Lydia became his whole world. If we both got hurt He wouldn’t even look my way. He’d leave me there and rush her to the hospital, even if her injuries were minor. It made me jealous. Made me hate her. So I lashed out. A sweet, innocent foster sister versus a bitter, crazy real one You do the math. I was so naive. I thought he still loved me most. That he only doted on her because she saved my life. Turns out, I couldn’t have been more wrong. Last time around, they found out I had Lycan Heart-Core Failure—my heart was slowly shutting down. And Lydia died on the operating table, donating blood to save me. I lived. Miraculously. But from that day on, my brother hated me with everything he had. He hurled the cruelest words at me, like we weren’t even siblings. Like we were enemies with blood between us. This time I didn’t want that. I’d rather be the one who didn’t make it. Winter was brutal. Freezing wind and snow whipped at my face like razor blades. The ache in my soul mixed with the burn on my arm until even breathing hurt. I hunched over, pulled my coat tighter, and kept walking. Guess I got greedy earlier. I came back to give my brother what he wanted, a life with only one sister. I should just leave. That thought was still fresh when a car honked beside me. The window rolled down. There he was, stone-faced. Get in. Before I could say no, his men pulled me inside. The heat was cranked, but I still felt cold. I pressed myself against the window, staring at the blur of streetlights flying past. You didn’t even get your arm treated. What are you trying to pull this time His voice cut through the silence like ice. Hurting yourself for attention wasn’t enough Now you’re running away I was quiet for a second. Then I turned and met his eyes. I mean it. You won’t have to deal with me anymore. I’ll move out. Stay far away. He laughed, bitter, mocking. Move out You With your weak body You leave home, you’re useless. How long do you think you’d last Not long anyway. I dropped my gaze. That’s not your concern. I know I used to fight for your attention. Scream. Throw fits. But I get it now. Some things just aren’t mine. Lydia saved me. You should love her. I… I shouldn’t get in the way. His eyes narrowed, searching my face for lies. For some scheme. All he found was ash. Whatever fire had burned there—jealousy, longing, even love—was gone. Dead. That stillness unsettled him more than anything. You think this act will make me soften Make me proud Delilah, I’m sick of your games. I’m not playing games. My voice came out soft, tired. I’m just… done. I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t want to go meet Mom and Dad with you hating me. I thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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